Wednesday, December 14, 2005


This is the sequel to something which I wrote long back..
A friend of mine, Mehtab, requested me to write the same.
So here it goes..

I compared death to the beloved. People have been contradicting
me on this thought but its just a thought.

You know you got to feel things up.
Then u can realize what beneath the written text.
In lots of my poems, if you closely analyse,
you get lots of meaning.
I write a compressed manner.
Leaving all that and back to where I started
Just think
that you are alone
you are breathing
you are sensing things around you
Mounting on to this scenario
Consider you are in a very serene environment..
Do you feel something.
I expect you do.
You may feel peace or fear or love
Did I say 'love'.

I just mean that.
Any human being first loves himself.
If you are on the verge of death, you wud like to live.
But just think about your ultimate goal.
Any human being ultimately wants to merge with almighty
He doesnt know that
But this is the truth.
And you have no way, but to believe this.
Death is all around you everytime.

We say that your wife is you soulmate.
That's what I say.
Death is your soulmate.
Hence by the property of transitivity
It turns out to be : Death is your beloved.

Whatever I wrote may seem to be crazy
But its just a thought.

You got to ponder...

One more last thing..

You always think that
whom do you love most?
whom do you care about most?
whom do you think about most?

It's you
You are important.
Your life is important.
Equally, your death is important.

Dont fear from her.
Let her be on your side.

Then you will feel happiness..
That's what everybody wants....

Anand Bora

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Trembling Line

Sitting on the bench
On the verge of starting a new script
I look on...
The human trembling line.

Emotions pouring through the face
Distressed, disgusted and abase
Awaiting the parchment of life
Answers are the literal wife.

Confidence reflects on the physignomy
Determination shines on some...
That 'some' is an important factor
Others suffer due to lust of 'playful' nectar.

The line I refer to...
Is the queue of 'studs' on scrutiny
Performing in the hall wont be a cakewalk
Testing the mettle - a product of bark.

Words guiding the cardiac senses
Ink committing innumerous offenses
Hope....coordination remains incessant
'Period' makes the line stagnant.

Anand Bora

This poem was written in a very eccentric situation.
I was in my exam hall waiting for the exam to start.
I could see my batchmates sitting on the other bench
in a row. I thought of jotting down the emotions
exhibited by their faces.