The Cron: Periodical Notifier

The Undying Hope

2010-07-22T02:30:00.000-07:00

Those runs along the dusty corridors,
through the rattles of the paddles and
wheels of the old bicycle, and
drops of sweat on that wrinkled face,
pale dusty cloth stitched more than seven times,
drying, darkening eyes
but, thoughtless feable smiles.

How could he smile with that belly
that shrank due to hunger?
How could he smile when those eyes
rarely saw a comfy slumber?
What drove him across when
His youth had tanned to the age of darkness;
darkness finely blending with shapely wrinkles?

Fuel that ignited that timid smile
and strengthened the feet to paddle along,
The undying hope in a feable silhoutte
leads him on his cycle's route,
cycling through the hits of hunger
paddling across the proverty's river.

His mighty will,
zeal to live,
majestic hope,
and ceaseless treading on the troubles...

That make him smile; smile soulfully!

- Cron

Beloveds Oceans Apart

2008-07-16T03:20:00.000-07:00

Regardless of it that,
we're oceans apart.
Trust me, my ducky,
across the continents,
and along the boundaries,
even today, the same wind blows.
No matter that...
we're oceans apart,
In mine and yours, heart
the same love glows..!

- Cron

Ek Pal Muskurahat Ka

2008-01-19T03:37:00.000-08:00

Ek pal muskarahat ke bina,
lagta hai jaise
ek madhushala bin paimano ki khanak ke,
ek mandir bin aastha ki awaaz ke,
ek saagar bin laharon ke unmaad ke,
aur ek jeevan chalti saanso ke ehsaas ke.

Hawayen tarasti hain,
ki kab teri saanso ki khushboo
unke nas nas ko sarabor kar de,
ki kab teri khilkhilahat,
fizaaon mein sangeet bhar de.
ki tere gaalon ke bhanwar kab,
hawaon ke bawandar ban jayen,
aur tere is deewane ke hosh,
apne saath udaa le jaayen.

Teri rukti muskurahat se,
meri raaton ke sitaare,
chamak kho rahe hain,
aur mera chand gumshuda hai.
tumhi bata do mujhe ki kaise,
kaise main is jeevan ko jee loon jab,
yeh mere yeh nagme,
tere sur ki sangat kho rahe hain.

lauta do woh pal,
woh pal sitaron ki timtim ka
aur gumshuda chaand ki ek jhalak ka.
woh pal mere nagmo ki gunjan ka,
aur woh pal fizaaon mein bikhri khushboo ka.
Lauta do is deewane ke hosh udatee hawayen,
Lauta do, sirf...
Woh ek pal muskurahat ka.

- Cron

Undefined..intensity of love

2007-12-04T02:37:00.000-08:00

Aah..they talk about intensity of love,
I say, undefined.
They think, undefined usually means, infinity.
..I'm afraid, it's not.

Love..well, a Fashion!

2007-03-27T05:29:00.000-07:00

Archaic tales of love and passion,
do they serve now?
Well.. Love is a fashion!
Changes as the cloths they wear,
Breaks as the papers they tear,
Indifferent Individuals,
No trickling drops of tear.

Thinking aloud philosophers die,
Poets and writers left to cry,
Lunar comparisons, and glowing flames,
Forgotten Individuals,
To think of such names.

Sharing nights and heat is the passion,
gifting and flirting; yet another fashion.
Trouble to so-called classic lovers,
Finding the places in fictions' covers,
Orthodox individuals, being laughed at,
For crying to fill those salty rivers.

-Cron

Life that you abolished!!

2007-03-19T11:10:00.000-07:00

The blossoming love
and blooming nights
and two unturned,
natural lives.
splurging, panting,
knealing emotions,
no moments resting,
movements and motions.
earthy souls heavenly feelings,
feelings treading over the truth,
taking in stride
the far-fetched reality,
and no projections of
their own brutality.

Heat and passion eventually grown,
but to care what love has sown.
The sown piece of blood and man,
the life sown with youth and tan,
screams aloud with clogging throat,
"don't decease me, I'm your son."
falters accepting that his own life,
coming to earth on edge of knife.

Red-sprayed air, shredding noise,
dried tears and unheard voice;
Voices that are made to mumble
THE mother's dreams made to crumble,
fragging apart heart's pieces,
and burnt are dreams' jungle,
leaving the man with the only whim,
no love, compassion,jus' commit the sin.
The sin of life that you laid out,
roasted the seed with no sprout.
How on earth the mercy doesn't cry,
and why the tears so early dry?

-Cron

A corpse sobs..

2007-01-10T05:49:00.000-08:00

The damp memories of survival,
on earth ..
beneath my current home,
beneath this sky of death,
I miss every pleasantry,
and I miss each tragedy.
I miss heartbreaks and
sufferings from poverty.
Amiss are all smiles
seen across faces,
amiss are all showers
and tarrying tears' traces.
Every garden, every farm,
handshakes and hugs,
everything was welcoming warm.

But I no longer miss
the reason why,
I was left,
to choose to die.
No matter what the reason,
what matters is my decision,
Now I feel in all my senses,
I left every tear to dry,
and I ran after my dreams
chased them until end of world,
chased them until end of life.
Now that I'd been in coffin,
and have my experiences recalling,
,of gods, and, of devils,
of fairies, and of angels,
inhabiting hell and beautiful heavens,
enjoying lushes and heavenly maidens.

However,I still resent my wits
that flashed up to my decision.
Why in hell couldn't I see,
Why I lacked my proclaimed vision?

Now, I sob on top of my voice,
but fail to touch my loved ones' hearts.
Which was my dream left untrue.
For the reason I ended life,
leaving alive no earthy residue.

-Cron

My Love For You...

2006-10-13T01:15:00.000-07:00

My love for you..., maybe,

..am not well at expression,
or just worried of reaction.
But your love signs are carved,
at my heart's every section.

Written are the things that are finite,
your love guides me as a ray of light.
How can I express with my naivety,
how this mighty sun is bright?

Every that moment of thought you steal,
I live trances, I live crazy.
Everything apart from your love,
seems to me vividly hazy.

Come to me as a delectable surprise
and be my love's infant sunrise.
A sunrise that will last forever...
as my sight in my loving eyes.

Describing love, don't know why,
dreamers dream and lovers cry,
and sculptors model their artifacts,
As rivers meet their darling ocean,
their waves bubble and ocean reacts.
Reacts exposing his sky-wide heart.
meeting horizon spelling an art.
An art of love and rivers' devotions,
An art of flooding and rippling emotions.

The charm of you pounces on my heart,
and warmth of your lips meets my lips,
and rise of your curves touches my ribs,
Sensuous moments bringing up delight,
thanks my love, for making my ways bright.

- Cron

Do I Sound Aloof?

2006-09-22T06:35:00.000-07:00

Do I sound aloof?
When you ask me to
write you love notes,
and I express myself in poem.
When you seek my attention,
and to me,
each of the rest becomes an alien.
When you look at me,
with timid blur in your eyes,
and I comfort you confessing nothing.
When you open your arms wide,
to feel me in your warm embrace,
and I bend to meet your lips,
Do I really sound aloof?

-Cron

My Love's Pledge

2006-07-21T05:07:00.000-07:00

It's your language of laughter,
that spreads smiles across my face.
And showers of your playful looks,
pierce me in my every trace.

Your small spells of laughter;
the distant bells from temples.
Your Pinkish glistening cheeks,
shining and letting rest dimples.
Your fearless innocent eyes,
with dimly flickering twinkles.
Your exclamations to tiny pleasures;
resplendent smiles gift me treasures.

Embracing briskly with dalliance,
Oh, my divine ducky...
Hey, tell me if you're a glyptic illusion,
mighty enough to drive me to a frisson.
or you're a dialect of love's language,
with dialogues of you; my love's pledge.

-Cron

In the bloodshed hours

2006-07-12T05:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Mumbai bomb blasts and bloodshed, caused abolishment of so many assets called life; so many miseries called orphaning, and lack of support for a mob. Heart sobs to hear all this and make us contemplate why on earth these bastards called terrorist enjoy impunities after giving rise to turbulence to calm rainy breezes of a city breathing fresh after so many disasters.

Hail Mumbaikars, for their speed of lives, their instinct for living, and prosperity… and these are my few words expressing my emotions:

In the evening hours of bloodshed,

the lives were lost; air was red.

Satanic verses played cacophonies,

and stopped healthy lives' journeys.

Raging sorrow flooding the sky,

devil left us all to cry,

Emotions tend to reach too high,

to exact revenge before tears dry.

Why on earth, an innocent dies?

Tell me reason, O' thou pries.

O Heavens, shower blessings to alive,

for devil's love is just to deprive,

deprive of life, deprive of bread,

deprive of love, deprive of head.

We, the living, will impoverish the evil,

when we come against them, acting rebel.

God strengthen us, expanding our

reaches...

and may earth welcomes tranquil breezes.

- Cron

It's all about feeling good

2006-06-23T10:15:00.000-07:00

The one liner from the title of Jigar Gosar's Blog really says it all.

It's all about feeling good,
So many goals,
So much to get,
if nothing to lose,
ain't nothing to regret.

Choose the way that trickle your senses,
Choose the way that makes you agile,
Think what makes you feel good,
and list to see that are your pleasures.
Look aside from due-prudence,
and resort to a little unsaid ignorance.

Sometimes feel you're no discoverer,
for, myriads of thoughts don't leave us better.
Feeling good is quite a feeling,
Feeling it shall get you uplifted
and you content it for you are gifted.

- Cron

Your Sunrise in My Imagination

2006-06-08T01:47:00.000-07:00

In castle of my imagination,
I see you my princess
getting up with the rays of sun,
and scratching away dreams
from your satin-lashed eyes,
and lazy twisting of your lissome waist,
makes worthwhile my sunrise.

Dew crimson with infant sun,
sees your eyes and envies you.
Lily petals in morning ponds,
starve to match your repose.
Breeze's proud kissing your cheeks
and shaking wiry strands of you.

Ah, could I prolong the moments,
morning sun spent with you.
and I thank the creator,
that made sun distant from you.
Ah, I got envious with sun,
for ever-growing scarcer you.

Let the sunshine find its blisses
in the ponds and on the dew,
and wander rest of beautiful world.
Before I realize my senses exist,
God, bless me with her warmth of kisses.

-Cron

A Tribute to My Sacred Love

2006-06-02T09:30:00.000-07:00

It's your bondage of sacred love,
that stops me from looking aside.
It's your resonance of voice,
that keeps me from all harmonies,
It's your reminiscence of sight,
that keeps world outta my view.
It's your everlasting desires,
which keep themselves ever new.

Now the turn is of my state,
Wish, you only is all my fate.
psalms and chanting are all I say,
Wish you were mine, is all I pray.
Languidly singing pass my day,
Coz you, my master, hear me and stay.

That shoreless ocean waves me smile,
for my melodies are not so fragile,
the naked horizon envenoms the sun,
that let the shine not further run,
I now see you impressed in dusky ripples,
And no other urge further bubbles,
You, only you, is my prayer,
and this,
...A tribute to my sacred love.

-Cron

I Am A Tyro

2006-05-27T08:27:00.000-07:00

Tending to match those coherent steps,
wanting to always be with you.
What to do, I don't know.
Alas, I say..I am a tyro.

Don't know where to have those finite pauses,
Suffering from those undone losses,
Don't stop me from learning to love,
Don't let me be lost in cove.
Maybe, am not well to know,
That's why I say, I am a tyro.

Shivering nights used to be mine,
playful smiles made me shine.
Sheen of love, flare of your sight,
All lost; no day is bright.
See me back and let love glow,
Love you forever,
though, I am a tyro.

-Cron

You, the ray of inspiration

2006-04-27T10:19:00.001-07:00

Since the sunshine is no more,

Since the dark is lingering

leaving behind that yore,

Ain’t none to adore.

You, the ray of inspiration,

You, the hint of mystery,

You, the revitalizing love

Rebuff my pains of history.

You, entwined with my being,

You, versed in making me versed,

Desires of you splurging to have you,

Dreams of you longing to come true,

You, the heiress of my heavens

Come over to glorify my love for you.

Dreams of feeling my scent in you,

Dreams of that long-due felicity

Let them come true,

Before they die in scarcity.

- Cron

The reason should be love...

2006-04-13T08:33:00.000-07:00

For depths of valleys echoing voices of wind resonating with stony walls,
Soft wind with stony walls, producing harmonies,
Why? The reason should be love.

Flying sparkles crackling and blending with moisture,
wet moisture with hot sparkles, producing
harmonies.
Why? The reason should be love.

Round pebbles dwindling in size with river's thrusts
Mighty pebbles with vigorous rivers, producing harmonies.
Why? The reason should be love.

Ostriches burying heads in hot sand feeling protected,
Hard-runners with dangerous claws, closing death.
Why? The reason should be love...??

...Maybe,
the reason called foolishness, the reason called naive...
If really someone leaves you naive and foolish,
The only reason should be love!

- Cron

Voice of Solitude

2006-04-07T10:28:00.000-07:00

Don't know it's voice or a sigh
Don't know miseries sound this high
Don't see a reason why...
Solitude silently cry.

A jingle jostling through silent screams,
surviving through congested globules of memories,
surviving through melancholic air clogging the throats.
Reminiscense melt down the ears,
melencholy creeping all physical gears.
Since the moment you're unaudible,
me, longing for even hears.

Treacherous voices betray ears.
All pleasantries impersonate fears.
Ambivalence of noise and voices
making eyes splashing tears.
....

- Cron

Rustle of Spring Leaves

2006-03-29T07:45:00.000-08:00

This rustle of spring leaves
lingers in my heart of grey cells.

Delectable noises producing magic,
turning greyer those grey cells,
trying to reconcile the sensual pleasures,
of loving memories-the tragic treasures,
thinking of those blissful laughters,
reliving the life of embodied warmth,
warmth turning even warmer,
scattering sparks through the streats
That's the real sensed sound,
that again reminds me of...
the rustle of spring leaves.

- Cron

My Heart Craves

2006-03-29T06:48:00.000-08:00

My heart craves...
craves for the unseen,
craves for the one,
one who has no significance in the eyes of reality,
one who has no brilliance of charming individuality
one who loves to stain love,
one who loves her contrived cove,
one who stays in eternal snit,
one who sways in silent rave,

makes my heart yearn amore,
makes herself become amiss,
makes me hear her harder.

me, growing even fervent
me, feeling magnetism of solemnity
me, catching fire the heated residue
me, craving for the love perpetually due...

- Cron

The First Notification

2006-03-29T05:25:00.000-08:00

To Your senses:

The first notification
The first impression of existance
The first alarm

To me:

The first notification
The first feel of presence
The first sense of anarchy

To Everyone:

First ,let the trail begin...

- Cron