Autumn of one’s life

A gray old woman sits all alone
Unloved, uncherished and unknown.
Sitting beside her broken door.
Dreaming of days past long ago,
When children played about her knee,
Filling the air with childish glee,
Tended by her with loving care.
Knowing the blessing of a Mother’s prayer.
But now they have gone, each to his life
A girl to her husband, a boy to his wife,
Forgetful are they of her who sits here,
Silently wiping a tricking tear,
For striving for things in a life so brief,
Blind their poor eyes to a dear Mother’s grief.
But does she upbraid them in word or in mind.
Nor does their neglect to her seem unkind.
She’ll forgive and forget all unkindness they’ve shown
This poor old mother who sits alone.
I see the sadness in your eyes,
The times that you are knowing
What’s happening to your wondrous mind,
The symptoms you are showing.

It was so hard to recognize,
When they started coming through.
The little things that changed you
From the person that I knew.

The doctor’s confirmation
Was so hard to accept,
To know that little could be done,
That there’s no cure as of yet.

Forgive me, dear, if sometimes
I give in to my frustrations.
It’s just so overwhelming,
This change in our relations.

Now I’m the one to be on guard,
To keep you safe from harm,
Protecting you the best I can
And not showing my alarm.

I hope you still can understand
How much you mean to me.
Though you curse me, or forget me,
I’ll accept what has to be.

For I will still remember
The joys that we once shared.
You showed me in so many ways
How very much you cared.

I pray to God to give me strength
To do what must be done,
To trust that in the future
This battle will be won.

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-www.googleimages.com

And The Story Begins…

When I first met you I was so shy,
I couldn’t even hold your hand
or kiss you good-bye.
But after a while I started falling in love with you,
And next thing I know,
I was so much attached to you….

Now every morning when I wake up
I see you lying next to me.
You are the one I cherish and love,
A blessing sent from Heaven above.

I will love you as a faithful partner should,
And do everything
for you that I could.
I would let you know everyday,
That I love you more than words can say.

I thank the Lord above
For blessing me with you,
Our relation shall never fade away,
I’ll just keep on loving you ,

Every single day……
Every single day…..

I desire to know you in every detail
Give me this chance, my heart will not fail
Life is a trial, that’s never ending
But together is time we could be spending.

I barely know you, its happened so rapid
And to you this may seem a little drastic
I have to reveal, can’t hold it any longer
You’ve got me trapped in a box of wonder.

Out destinies could intertwine forever
Girl just come to me, it’s now or never
Think of the happiness that’s yet to be
If you would surrender your heart to me.

From the day we met,
God has grown closer to me
indefinitely.
From the day we met,
“more than I ever prayed for”
is how I see life.

From the day we met,
I lose myself in laughter
and love feels so good.
From the day we met,
each time I look in your eyes,
my heart skips a beat.

From the day we met,
my life hasn’t been the same.
I’ll never look back!

My love is yours,
my life is yours;
for you fulfilled more then my dreams could ever design!

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-www.googleimages.com

Part of You

best friend

Best Friend

For so long I held my heart so securely in place.
Away from the world, in this cold, dark, lonely space.

Then you came into my life, and I didn’t know what to do.
What my heart had so longingly missed, I now found in you.

Letting you in my life was something I wasn’t sure about.
But the more time we spent together I was left without a doubt.

Knowing that with each passing day, your love to me meant more.
It filled a place inside my heart that had known only emptiness before.

I didn’t see how painful it must have been for you to love me, unconditionally.
When I demanded so much of you, this perfect person you tried so hard to be.

Even though it wasn’t purposeful I know it hurt your heart to believe.
That just one mistake, and I wouldn’t hesitate to leave.

How could you have known nothing was ever farther from being true.
Your smile, the warmth of your heart, I could never bid adieu.

As you held my heart you touched a part of my soul, and there your fingerprints still rest.
Your whispers softly echo, with hopes of hearing them I quiet my very breath.

Although where we’re headed now is something yet unknown,
A part of me has left, and never again will I alone, my heart own.

And how fortunate I must be, that at this journey’s end,
It has been, still is, and always will be, you I call best friend.

Just always remember to be patient and pray,
“Tomorrow will be different” as you’d always say.

For you, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do,
My heart’s not that big yet, but I’ll give you that too.

To be your friend is what I am honored to be,
To be your sister is what I’m meant to be.

So now you should know as we’ve reached an end,
To me you’ll always be more than a friend.


© The Honest Fabler– Pooja Mukherjee
© Image Source – Google Images

A Privilege

For All Seasons

A teacher is like Spring,
Who nurtures new green sprouts,
Encourages and leads them,
Whenever they have doubts.

A teacher is like Summer,
Whose sunny temperament
Makes studying a pleasure,
Preventing discontent.

A teacher is like Fall,
With methods crisp and clear,
Lessons of bright colors
And a happy atmosphere.

A teacher is like Winter,
While it’s snowing hard outside,
Keeping students comfortable,
As a warm and helpful guide.

Teacher, you do all these things,
With a pleasant attitude;
You’re a teacher for all seasons,
And you have my gratitude!

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-www.googleimages.com

TIMELESS

Life is a work of art,
something you paint or write with your heart,
taking care to make every part
a symphony of colors or words
that fly together like a flock of birds.

You use the tools that you have,
a paintbrush or a pen in your hand.
Appreciate the hand you use,
because you don’t get to choose,
and be careful what you create
using your character trait.

Take a lesson from the other designs,
but still use your creative guidelines.
Don’t think your abilities come from your greatness;
they are a gift from God, and they’re not utterly painless;
they take endurance and care,
and you have to be able to bear
the wear and tear.

The piece can be one of a kind,
no matter if you have a great mind.
Write and paint of actions undefined,
by the knowledge of others
who are undermined.

Use the love God has given
and the guidance of his hand
to recreate his promised land.

The sands of time
will bring about inspiration
and the gifts of God you use without hesitation.
Life is a work of art,
a reflection of you,
and a journey that you must pursue.

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-www.googleimages.com

Hope’s Gleam

The flower that is given little light tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive,
then fades away like dusk into the night.

The soul who struggles just to stay alive much like the flower wilting in the dark,
tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive.

How can a fire be lit if there’s no spark?
Without hope’s gleam, the soul will waste away,
much like the flower wilting in the dark.

This is the plight of one whose world is grey:
Though others say a paradise exists –
without hopes gleam, the soul will waste away.

A man upon this earth who tastes no bliss is like a soul brought low who droops his head,
though others say a paradise exists.

How sad that someone rather would be dead!
The flower that is given little light is like a soul brought low who droops his head,
then fades away like dusk into the night.

Winking to the soul dream of dreams ,
Together we can build a future palace one without fear and pain
Destiny will be eternities,shooting arrow.

Do you hear still the melody
to the most beautiful song playing
Warmly exploring deeply touching tunes
Covering the bed with rose petals

Music plays a heartfelt chant sighs,
I miss you dearest flower forever more,
just like the desert misses rain
Whispers held on a cloud of breath beautiful.

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-@Bijoy singha photography

Writers are Paranoid

writers

Pre-Script:

We, writers, may be well known and respected for portraying our thoughts in words but there are few secrets that every writer keeps to himself. Now, I may be exaggerating but these are my worst fears and to be honest each of it is a byproduct of paranoia.

Writers are Paranoid

From the moment we pick up our pens,
till we start with the first letter on the page,
we are afraid.
Afraid about starting the thought our
mind has instigated & what will be the best way to begin?

From the first chapter’s completion,
till the transition of next, we are afraid.
Afraid that if we fail to write again
and live in our real world,
we’ll get exiled from the world we created.

From the introduction of the protagonist,
till the elevation of events, we are afraid.
Afraid that our imaginary friends may leave
us high & dry in the middle and
our story would never proceed.

From the triumph and the climax,
till the final verdict of the book, we are afraid.
Afraid about any plot holes we may have
left in our world.
The story we invested everything in.

From the forming of another plot,
till the publishing of current,
we are afraid,
Afraid if we can even live long enough
to tell the world our stories by our pen.

I agree we are paranoid,
but we’re the fuel.
We’re the ones who remember,
the tellers of truth & tales.
We’re the thinkers and the ones
who never give up even after rejections.

It’s because we know our worth.
It’s because we know we’re writers.


©The Honest Fabler
©Handwriting credits – @theartisticmess

Post-Script:

The past few weeks were buried under academics and extra-curricular activities. I almost forgot the feel of blogging, but it’s really great to be back♥ Wish you guys a great week ahead!

Spread your wings.

wings

Lift your wings to fly.

 

There is no safety here.

This morning in the garden
your words fell out.
Your mouth opened
and ran out of things to say.

Light abandoned and every corner
you went into the spaces
hid away and you became,
just another voice in the wind.

No one notices when the snow
begins and the motels
close and none of the roads
lead home and none of the homes
even have roads
that could take you there.

This morning you collapsed
in on yourself,
and it was only the air
that felt you’re falling.

We heard the
song before we
saw the truck,
and fueled by
heart and hunger,
raced across
the clover field.

You in the lead
as always,
riding free handed,
your smile fuller
than a rain heavy sky.

Majestic creator of geometry
Of my peering face, window,
weeping willow tree.
Her body cropped against the landscape
Cradles birds, leaves, buildings,
Rain and shadows.
In open arms.

Her ever-changing robe.
Sapphire, crimson, auburn, gold.
Continuously alters the wrapping paper.
Presenting the Earth to mankind.

The world ends where the sky begins,
Nothing lies beyond the horizon
But the knowledge
of the stars,
Reaching beyond the Milky Way
Whose luminescence strokes my tabletop,
In a tiny apartment
A gleaming box of light
Adorning the vast expanse of a building,
Carved along the edges
Of a clear night sky.


© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source- Pooja Mukherjee

Winking Cupcake

I sink my shiny white teeth into
The rich creamy delicious chocolate cake .
I lick my lips,I think I am addicted.
My mind sighs blackberries
and a moonstruck melody
plays along my spine
as I soak up the fruited juice
of I love you coloring your lips
The cherry blush of breathless,
And a smile amid the wash
Of blueberry eyes, should indicate
My intended reply.

I am looking blindly into the fridge.
You are the keeper of my heart.
Its natural form bleeds away in a sticky juice.
She laughed as softly as if she sighed,
I wondered though would she ever love me,
Her smile revealed things only I could see,
Now would I tell her of the things I thought
I wondered though would she ever love me.
What is this feeling that has made me taut?

Now would I tell her of the things I thought
All other food but love I’d surely spare
What is this feeling that has made me taut
My life I’d gently give to her with care
All other food but love I’d surely spare,
Then I would be hers and she would be mine,
A life together we would have to build,
My love and joy swelled up until I cried,
I’d be her love,companion and her shield,
She laughed as softly as if she sighed.


© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source- Myself

Library Romance.

library

Library Romance – Every New Time.

The first time I saw her smile,
it was through the gaps of the library shelves that she stood beyond.

The first time we exchanged a glance,
she laughed too hard while reading a comic under the “Keep Silence” board.

The first time I talked to her,
she dropped her favorite bookmark in the crack between two tables which I helped to lift.


The second time I didn’t only see her smile,
I smiled with her.

The second time we didn’t only exchange a glance,
we stared directly in our eyes looking for solace.

The second time I didn’t only talk to her,
I confessed to her about how I felt that she had the brightest smile I’d ever seen
and the sweetest voice I’d ever heard.


The third time I definitely didn’t see her smile,
she cried her eyes out in her father’s arms.

The third time we definitely couldn’t exchange a glance,
since her eyes were drenched with tears and her mascara all over.

The third time I definitely didn’t talk to her,
because it was her turn to repeat the vows and say “I do”


©The Honest Fabler ~Ashutosh Gursale
©Image Source- @theartisticmess