Tuesday, July 04, 2006



Walking up and down the empty street,
I'm waiting for someone I need to meet.

Its half past six on a Sunday evening,
The sky is golden and the Sun is setting.

There is a new building coming up near,
The site is silent; there is no one I hear.

Two men on the rooftop catch my eye,
Silhouetted by the colors of the evening sky.

The structure so huge made them look frail and small,
But the structure is tiny beneath man who made it all.

I watched as one of the men picked up his tools,
And strapped on a harness as per his work rules,

The other braced himself and held the rope tight,
As his friend let go and hung in mid-air so light.

As he welded the metal rods, golden sparks of fire flew,
A man at work and the fire he made – I’ll never forget that view.

All around the man who hung, the wind seemed to play,
For all else was still, but he and the sparks did sway.

His friend held on and never once did he turn away his face,
But the man focused on his work - never met the other’s gaze.

At length the work was done and he called out – ‘Its over’,
The man on top began to pull the rope with all his power.

The worker soon stood alongside his friend on the roof top,
He looked first at the thin rope then down at the sheer drop.

It was much more than the thin rope that had held him up, down there,
It was his faith in his friend who looked out as he hung alone in the air.

The two men left, and I neither knew nor saw them ever again,
But I’d learnt a bit more on life, the wait hadn’t been in vain.

There are men who hold my own rope, who always heed my call,
These are the people whom I’ve learnt to trust to never let me fall.

That kind of trust is not built in a single second’s glance,
But with time I learnt to find the souls I can never do sans.

You may meet many persons upon life’s risky way,
But only those are friends who’ll help you any day.

People who call themselves your friend are plenty and rife,
But he is no friend whom you couldn’t trust with your very life.

So whenever you doubt if a man is a friend,
If you can see him hold the line’s other end,
And you work, knowing you live by the rope,
In him you can place all your faith and your hope.
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Saturday, July 01, 2006

Poem - The Hero

The Hero

Some person’s dream – you may be living,
Some heart’s deepest desires – your life may be reflecting.

He will seek you out and then never let you go,
He’ll see what can be and hence mark you his hero.

The fact that you exist is all that he needs,
Your presence is the inspiration upon which he feeds.

So, take care to live your life with no guilt, no lies,
Keep your self worthy to meet his adoring eyes.

Now, his dreams may be your reality-
But what of your dreams that seem so flighty?

‘Tis a chain – each one a man and a hero to another,
Hope springs from their Achievement – a lamp that glows forever.

So fraught with much risk is the path to your craven place,
But be brave and go on - for it is against time that you race.

Each day we try our best and our effort takes us upstream,
Towards that day when we’ll live our own dream.

And you’ll know you've reached that day when -
You feel each living day that you are in heaven.
Read More......