Clouds!

Clouds!

You float with your load of splendor,

You are so beautiful!

Golden brownish lazy beautiful sloths!

Wondrous clouds!

I give words to you,

What a folly I do!

You stop me and my constant mental scribbling...

You live in the land of no thoughts!

You have a splendor that cannot be explained,

Your fires are not yours they say,

Does anyone in your beautiful land cares about mine or yours anyway!

You don’t let the sky look grand,

You provide birdie playfulness to an otherwise sober bereft man!

You look still, but you do move,

A snail would defeat you, and in that I praise you!

The world rushes,

You are glorified by the gentle strokes of a painter’s brushes…

You are lovely…

Clouds!

-Manan sheel

(written today on seeing an army of clouds floating in extreme leisure...)

Poetry and Fire..

Have you felt fire?
Rising in your being...
No, not rage, that is not what I mean..
A million hot flowers rising from every part of your body
Upwards, to meet your sky..

Such,
is the effect of poetry
on the sensitive...

Then there is milder poetry,
the feel good type, that shows the loveliness of your fire...
Such poetry scents of the petals of your colorful fire
a mild scent, a refreshing scent..

Then there is raw poetry
with the power and pain of sun in it
it falls on you like a hailstorm..
It is like lava erupting from a volcano..

Flowers are the most precious kind of poetry
The poetry by the almighty
they are like sparkles of God's own fire
twinkling like heavenly stars...


-Manan sheel.

A flower

 A flower
 once bloomed
 has bloomed.
 It won't repeat

 The same elements
 which made it
 are unable to conspire
 again in
 the same way,
 they may make
 other flowers, but
 that one flower..
 it was unique
 Incomparable!

 So are you!

-Manan sheel.
(This poem celebrates the uniqueness of each one of us)