The Silent Magnetism of Calm Souls

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They do not roar to prove their worth,

Or crowd the spaces of the earth;

They filter thought before they speak,

In gentle tones, serene and meek.

A raised-up voice they do not need,

For quiet truth is where they lead.

They do not live for hollow praise,

Or stage the drama of their days;

While others sprint to show and tell,

They tend the garden of their well.

They find a wealth that cannot break

In harmony and peace they make.

With careful steps, they walk the floor,

And never push a heavy door;

They ask of life a simple art:

To leave no bruise upon a heart.

To heal a fracture, calm a fright,

And step through darkness with a light.

In chaotic winds that pull and strain,

They are the shelter from the rain.

For power does not need to shout—

It is the flame that stays the doubt.

And in their presence, we find room

To watch our own quiet spirit bloom.

Tightening

 

If something is bearing and moving,

trend is to turn the wrench

and tighten further,

to make it firm and fixed.

In life it's the same too.

But

in both the cases

break point exists,

anyway shall bear it.

The Twilight

 

The dusk

painting my own

shadow very large,

at my feet.

The sun

is setting down,

dipping in the evening

darker.

The Shadow will disappear

in the dark.

True Wavy Black

 

Nourished with a few drops

of natural coconut oil

truly black stood in rows

like an obedient army

Young school days

fear of white coat and cane

had a little choice

trim down to carpet clean

Stepping into the race

crafting my own boat

sailing upstream

was the spring had wavy

Soon came the long summer

in the land where even native dates palm

roots stood in cool while heads burning

default, crew cut

Unwelcome falls appeared quick

treated seawater and harsh weather

influenced, no choice for a young

on one war of many fronts

 

Time has flown away fast

leaving me in the long summer

uncontrollable lifeless gray

peeping all over

It’s obvious, eyeball rollover

my bald and my NIC

sure no winter, not again

for my wavy hair...

The Journey

 

On verdant leaf, a strange spot's birth

A tiny mark, of life and mirth

It spreads its hue, like morning dew

And turns the green, to yellow anew

The leaf, once full, now withers slow

As if the sap, began to flow

In reverse, a tale of woe

As nature's beauty, starts to go

The tree, above, with sorrow's sigh

Watches its child, begin to die

It weeps, in silence, tears of pain

For life's brief span, and fleeting gain

The wind whispers secrets, as it blows

Of life's transience, and nature's woes

The leaf, now yellow, starts to fall

And with it, memories, of life's call

*an AI assisted poem

What’s Packed in a Seed?

 

Strong bark, many branches,

Velvet soft or harsh buds and many leaves,

Smooth, fragrant and nectar filled flowers,

May be thorns too, but to protect them,

How all those are packed in a small seed?

Amazing!

But, to know what it brings that

shall be planted,

grow with strong roots,

span of time

and go through many phases,

to stand tall and reap fruits.

Sure, they give you

priceless breathing air

since they span their arms with love,

tiny green leaves.

Ride Alone to Win

 

One shall put all the efforts, ride alone

to hear many claps at Finish line.