Hungry Lion.

There is a certain person who got blocked from this site and I believe came back couple of times here. I know who comes to this site using trackers. It is unfortunate that person left me and my poetry for whatever and now coming in like a stranger. To that person.. If you want to be back, understand, you can send me a request and no questions asked, no terms or conditions said. I will take you back, because I am a very caring person. I will not say that it is with kindness I am letting you back or this is my charity. I will say, it is with respect and honor I welcome you back. If you don’t want to be known here add me in twitter http://twitter.lonelypoet.com I have a new facebook account but after the treatment I got from you in facebook last time it is better we don’t see there at all.

It is the month of Ramadhan, rarely I write during the month of fasting. So no new poem I am going to just post an old poem which you all may know very well. It is from my book “Age Of Survival”. This poem kinda reflects what I feel now. Read.

Waiting For The Last Summer Rain.

Among the crowd he wandered,

With thoughts that wondered,

About life that seems normal,

Alien for him from the path fate paved.

A summer storm loomed above and all around,

The singing birds silenced by a rumble,

The fear in the eyes of those birds said,

More about what is to come than the past.

He walked away from the streets,

And in a deserted corner stood,

Unknowing what felt inside was real,

Or another fancy thought that may drag,

Him down way below the land he stood.

He knew no ways around this town,

None of the faces any way familiar,

He never meant to go anywhere he realized,

He never spoke to himself either.

Inside, he felt lost for all he felt for that girl,

As deep into the halls of mind silence penetrated,

Leaving mind astray with no hope of recovery,

Burying deep his love still listening to her silence.

The norm of the world stopped,

More dreams from sprouting,

As inside he felt what felt was wrong,

And must be washed away in the last rain,

Of a turbulent summer he wished never existed.

Love still remained untold and unfelt,

Leaving another wound inside that will never heal,

He wiped away the tears he felt in his eyes,

And then without a thought I crossed the street,

To offer some words to console his broken heart,

The closer I reached the blurry became my eyesight,

But nothing wrong was there with my vision,

It was him, who was fading and shrinking,

And in my awe of surprise I stood still,

How long I don’t know I stood there in awe,

But felt ashamed and sad,

When the flower seller passing by said,

In her perplexed and humorous tone,

“Why are you staring at your own shadow sir?”

From the book “Age Of Survival” ©LonelyPoet. All rights reserved. No Part of this poem maybe reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers. Published by Publish America, LLP

Here are some of my latest pictures. Hair is gone so don’t laugh at me it will grow back.

First Day At Work, Fasting

Hide And Seek

Friday Fun Face

Work At Times Can Be Very Intense