Relatives cry over the body of a
victim April 26, 2015, after an earthquake struck Nepal, at Bir Hospital in
Katmandu, Nepal, the day before. Rescue workers scoured through rubble for
survivors as new tremors sent shocked survivors scurrying outdoors.
Monday, 27 April 2015
Friday, 3 April 2015
What happened you, why did you blend the tears
Into your gory eye?
is it because of remembering
The holy neighbour , whose life was among sorrow
Melancholy and happiness in Zeesalm
Or the west wind blew from Kagima caressing thy
Heart with the Midas touch of prophetic love
And his adoration was blazed strongly on your heart
And the light of volcano spattered on the cold glare
Of desolate night around the courtyards
Of IZAM, it gave a clue of Muhammad (pbhu)
And the darkness will make introduce you about ancient
darkness
Where every new born girls were buried alive.
What about your eyes? if you murmur the lachrymal canal
To stop, the silver threads drooped would have stirred from
your rheumy eyes
What troubled your heart if you say heartily; please breathe
a sigh of relief
Then you would have sent and dedicated to spike of pain
radiating through your skull.
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Thursday, 12 March 2015
about prophet
What happened you, why did you blend the tears
Into your gory eye? is it because of remembering
The holy neighbour , whose life was among sorrow
Melancholy and happiness in Zeesalm
Or the west wind blew from Kagima caressing thy
Heart with the Midas touch of prophetic love
And his adoration was blazed strongly on your heart
And the light of volcano spattered on the cold glare
Of desolate night around the courtyards
Of IZAM, it gave a clue of Muhammad (pbhu)
And the darkness will make introduce you about ancient darkness
Where every new born girls were buried alive.
What about your eyes? if you murmur the lachrymal canal
To stop, the silver threads drooped would have stirred from your rheumy eyes
What troubled your heart if you say heartily; please breathe a sigh of relief
Then you would have sent and dedicated to spike of pain radiating through your skull.
Why the lover consider, one man who yearns
And his cryptic message could be hidden in the depth of sea
While, eyes are covered with red blood and hearts dwelling with nostalgia.
IF you have not met a big thrill
Thy tears don’t follow the course of the river
Surrounding the debris and you don’t annihilate the slumber
Of youth in commemoration of fond valley and mountain.
How can you reject haughtily love
Why you made wearing be spectacled tears
And thy heart was forced to play with illness of life.
The grief full of sweat loves settled perfectly
Two tracks of mellifluous melody of cheek
With smirked cry and pour health
As a winter rose with red blood
And branches of tendril with leafy redness
Friday, 6 March 2015
A
A blind rage like a fire swept over him
A book that rends and tears like a broken saw
A breath of melancholy made itself felt like a chill and sudden gust from some unknown sea
A cloud in the west like a pall creeps upward
A cloud like a flag from the sky
A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree
A confused mass of impressions, like an old rubbish-heap
A cry as of a sea-bird in the wind
A dead leaf might as reasonably demand to return to the tree
A drowsy murmur floats into the air like thistledown
A face as imperturbable as fate
A face as pale as wax
A face tempered like steel
A fatigued, faded, lusterless air, as of a caged creature
A few pens parched by long disuse
A figure like a carving on a spire
A fluttering as of blind bewildered moths
A giant galleon overhead, looked like some misty monster of the deep
A glacial pang of pain like the stab of a dagger of ice frozen from a poisoned well
A glance that flitted like a bird
A great moon like a red lamp in the sycamore
A grim face like a carved mask
A hand icily cold and clammy as death
A heart from which noble sentiments sprang like sparks from an anvil
A jeweler that glittered like his shop
A lady that lean'd on his arm like a queen in a fable of old fairy days
A life, a Presence, like the air
A life as common and brown and bare as the box of earth in the window there
A light wind outside the lattice swayed a branch of roses to and fro, shaking out their perfume as from a swung censer
A lightning-phrase, as if shot from the quiver of infallible wisdom
A list of our unread books torments some of us like a list of murders
A little breeze ran through the corn like a swift serpent
A little weed-clogged ship, gray as a ghost
A long slit of daylight like a pointing finger
A memory like a well-ordered cupboard
A mighty wind, like a leviathan, plowed the brine
A mind very like a bookcase
A mystery, soft, soothing and gentle, like the whisper of a child murmuring its happiness in its sleep
A name which sounds even now like the call of a trumpet
A note of despairing appeal which fell like a cold hand upon one's living soul
A purpose as the steady flame
A question deep almost as the mystery of life
A quibbling mouth that snapped at verbal errors like a lizard catching flies
A radiant look came over her face, like a sudden burst of sunshine on a cloudy day
A reputation that swelled like a sponge
A ruby like a drop of blood
A shadow of melancholy touched her lithe fancies, as a cloud dims the waving of golden grain
A silver moon, like a new-stamped coin, rode triumphant in the sky
A slow thought that crept like a cold worm through all his brain
A smile flashed over her face, like sunshine over a flower
A soft and purple mist like a vaporous amethyst
A soft haze, like a fairy dream, is floating over wood and stream
A soul as white as heaven
A sound like the throb of a bell
A stooping girl as pale as a pearl
A sudden sense of fear ran through her nerves like the chill of an icy wind
A sweet voice caroling like a gold-caged nightingale
A thin shrill voice like the cry of an expiring mouse
A thing of as frail enchantment as the gleam of stars upon snow
A vague thought, as elusive as the smell of a primrose
A vanishing loveliness as tender as the flush of the rose leaf and as ethereal as the light of a solitary star
A voice as low as the sea
A voice soft and sweet as a tune that one knows
A white bird floats there, like a drifting leaf
Against a sky as clear as sapphire
Age, like winter weather
Agile as a leopard
Agitated like a storm-tossed ship
Air like wine
All around them like a forest swept the deep and empurpled masses of her tangled hair
All like an icicle it seemed, so tapering and cold
All my life broke up, like some great river's ice at touch of spring
All silent as the sheeted dead
All sounds were lost in the whistle of air humming by like the flight of a million arrows
All that's beautiful drifts away like the waters
All the world lay stretched before him like the open palm of his hand
All unconscious as a flower
Alone, like a storm-tossed wreck, on this night of the glad New Year
An anxiety hung like a dark impenetrable cloud
An ardent face out-looking like a star
An ecstasy which suddenly overwhelms your mind like an unexpected and exquisite thought
An envious wind crept by like an unwelcome thought
An ideal as sublime and comprehensive as the horizon
An immortal spirit dwelt in that frail body, like a bird in an outworn cage
An impudent trick as hackneyed as conjuring rabbits out of a hat
An indefinable resemblance to a goat
An isle of Paradise, fair as a gem
An omnibus across the bridge crawls like a yellow butterfly
An undefined sadness seemed to have fallen about her like a cloud
An unknown world, wild as primeval chaos
An unpleasing strain, like the vibration of a rope drawn out too fast
And a pinnace like a flutter'd bird came flying from afar
And a tear like silver, glistened in the corner of her eye
And all our thoughts ran into tears like sunshine into rain
And at first the road comes moving toward me, like a bride waving palms
And melting like the stars in June
And night, as welcome as a friend
And silence like a poultice comes to heal the blows of sound
And spangled over with twinkling points, like stars
And the smile she softly uses fills the silence like a speech
As a child in play scatters the heaps of sand that he has piled on the sea
shore
As a cloud that gathers her robe like drifted snow
As a flower after a drought drinks in the steady plunging rain
As a leaf that beats on a mountain
As a lion grieves at the loss of her whelps
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Mother Teresa had said that ‘We have not come here for work but we have come here for Jesus. We are religious. We are neither social workers, nor doctors nor teachers ! We are nuns of Jesus.’ – Shri. Sandip Shinde