Don't listen to those who tell you not to dream. Because if it wasn't the dream of stars we would have not reached the space.
I do whatever I can to reach you
But whatever I do, I feel insufficient without you.
It is you I want to be with
It is you I do anything to be with
It is you, without you I am just an air without oxygen
am a body without soul
I am a feeling without satisfaction
I a moment without life
I missing you alien ... :\
पर फैलाए खड़ा हूँ में उड़ान भरने को
मंज़िल है दूर कहीं आसमान को छूने को
डगर ना होगी आसान जानता हूँ में मगर
घबराता क्यूँ है दिल राह भटकने को|
- क़ैद आज़ादी
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Sunday, 16 September 2012
There is no peace for my crying soul
everyday your memories bank on my shoal
I soliloquize to keep you out of my head
but when the night falls you come back to my bed.
and then you rule every second of my dream
like an angel who came down from heavenly agleam.
I wish I am ruling your world too
dominating your skies with my vibrant hue
whilst this distance is crushing my heart
a moment away from you is like submitting to a dart
I rest with my dead words and with my bleeding pen
with scraped papers and with feelings beyond my ken.
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Thursday, 13 September 2012
Heart never knew how to fly in sleep,
Dreams they called it, and she told me to keep.
Days passed, So is her level of understanding,
confusions rose high, explanations, she started demanding.
I died many times, when I lost my conscience,
made peace with pain, with drinks formed an alliance.
When I lost myself, I started boozing to endure,
without it I could have not made it, for sure.
My determination to live never fell, I was always stiff.
Now I have few questions to her, What if?
What if I treated you the way you treated me?
would you have stayed all this length with me?
What if I would have left you amid your turmoil?
like me, would you have fallen to this foil?
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Wednesday, 22 August 2012
You kissed me holding my hands tight,
and tied them behind, when I was busy loving you.
You showed me the dagger, said it won't hurt,
you put the point on my heart, yet I stood there to please you.
You went all the way down, every inch of the blade in me,
and left me to my fate, but I waited for you.
Everyone who tried to pull it out, had failed.
I bled to my last drop and still, I was craving for you.
I live as living dead, I accepted the fortune,
though my silence cry out loud, calling out for you.
After everything, you come begging for love, brings me a smile.
I am confused whether my smile is smiling on myself or, on you!!
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Wednesday, 8 August 2012
It is an amazing language
with which the Silence speaks.
When one falls in love
how a blink of an eye tweets.
words aren't suffice to express
and silence contains the ultimate expression.
even if it lasts for a minute
you end up having a strange sensation.
When it rises from nowhere
heart races to its maximum heat.
Only thing you hear is her breathe
which is louder than your heartbeat.
A strange current passes through
when she asks you to tell something.
It tickles every inch of your bone
when you find yourself with nothing.
This eternal silence keeps pushing you
out of your comfort zone.
It is when you wish
that you have had recharged your phone.
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Friday, 3 August 2012
When eyes are devoid of light,
life is confused with fight.
When future of steps are undecided,
confidence in heart is subsided.
When everything else loses its spark,
this is when they call it dark.
When thought doesn't seem bright,
darkness is darker than night.
When happiness burns in sweats,
tears falls off in debts.
When dreams do not embark,
it is when they call it dark.
When questions are more than the answers,
every word spoken create disasters.
When vision die in embarrassment,
and support resigns its department.
When things done do not make a mark,
it is when they call it dark.
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Tuesday, 10 July 2012
Sated the paper with the aroma of love
drenched my pen in a pool of emotions.
I started writing my poem about you
keeping every feeling in their deserved positions.
Wept when the pen refused to write
still holding the things I wanted to subside.
Tore everything I have of you
when I lost, my hope, my guide.
Silence took my heart as hostage
storm rose violently in my head.
My eyes filled with rivers of agony
when I realized, my poem is dead.
The words filled with rage, was taking over
yet my desire to melt you away kept burning.
So I started again from the beginning
writing those lines full of yearning.
I wish I could show you in those sentences
how red was the color of my tears.
How lonely was I without you, in the people
when you decided to disappear.
I tried everything I can do to explain, how I felt
cried my heart out at times, when I couldn't do.
till now I thought it was my poem, I lost,
but it wasn't it, it was not my poem, all I lost is .................. YOU.
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Wednesday, 20 June 2012
you were right.
With you I live,
I smile louder
than my laugh.
my word doesn't fumble.
I write beautifully
than my thoughts.
I live, with no meaning.
I laugh, for no reason.
I fumble when I speak.
my writings distort
and my thoughts die,
even before they are born.
you are my paper,
to write off my feelings.
you are my diary,
to log my day up.
You are my blotter,
to dry off my spill.
you must be wondering
How, without you,
this is written so well?
This is because
you are hidden in my heart
and I am going through hell.
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Thursday, 14 June 2012
महफ़िल को वो यूँ इस कदर जवां रखा करते है
एहसास अपनी मौजूदगी का यूँ बनाए रखते है
इस कशिश मे ढूँढने पर उनकी परछाई भी नसीब नही होती
लेकिन वो तो अपने दिल की धड़कनो से ही महफ़िल सजाए रखते है|
पर उनकी यादों से शमा मेरी जलती है
जिसको बारिश के पानी से हम बुझाते रहते है
लेकिन मालूम था ना हमे इन बूँदों की फ़ितरत
जो लौ बनकर शमा को रौशन करते रहते है|
इस बेताबी के आलम मे तो आँसू भी उतर आते है
मोहब्बत की महफ़िल मे वो शमा बुझाने चले आते है
माहौल तन्हाई का हो तो नम आँखें झील बन जाती है
और भारी बरसात मे पलकों पर अश्क भी भीग जाते है|
फिर भी नफ़रत नही अब भी उनकी चाहत से
ख्वाबों का सेहरा जो इस दिल को पहनाया है
बस यही दुआ है रब से की ख़त्म ना करे इस मोम से दिल को
जिस पर प्यार से उन्होने आग इस कदर लगाया है|
- CSK, Md. Khalique
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Wednesday, 30 May 2012
My eyes are winking, I can barely sit anymore.
The dark inside me is growing, All I see is the final door.
A figure has appeared there, the light fell on my skin.
My heart filled with fear, and the sweat is dripping off my sin.
I cared no less to see, It was smiling hard at me.
I stood back on my feet, this time it was so easy.
I looked down on the floor, wondering at the miracle just passed about.
though it was abhor, the very sight left me in no doubt.
I was standing on the bridge, It was awaiting to take me away.
my body was lying on the ridge, my sight started turning gray.
I pleaded the man, I am not yet ready to go home.
Pushed him and ran, expecting to outrun that gnome.
The distance wasn't cutting short, and the world was coming apart.
I started to snort, and the beats raised in my heart.
All I can look, is turning black, thereafter I couldn't catch my breath.
I stopped fighting back, when realized, I was being dragged by death.
The final path
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Sunday, 27 May 2012
I stood on my first crossroad
wondering which one is for me to take.
They chose the one more traveled
decision was not mine, to make.
Might have been in my best interest
they know what I can manage.
I locomated myself like others
all the way through, without damage.
And that lead me to another one
It too diverged into more than two.
Every road has been traveled frequently
there is nothing new, which I can do.
Finally I found a new trail
Roadsigns said its to the heaven.
But the path was roughly blazed
and there were tools all over, broken.
The stage is there to perform
How can they select what I play?
I know at which I am good.
Yet the path is not good for me, they say.
They never looked at it, the way I see it,
They barricaded it and told me not to do it.
I know it wont be easy, but it is not that hard
But I want to play it, The way I feel it.
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Monday, 21 May 2012
I pick my pen up daily, for something to write.
My thoughts take birth but die, And I stare at walls all night.
Words strike me like bullet, I feel them deep inside
I sit blank thinking how to start, When I wanted to confide.
I am damned with these incomplete emotions, I contain,
So I thought about you for one last time, to bring out this fountain.
Now I have these tears to fight and so many feelings to drain,
yet I continue staring, wondering what part of you to explain.
If I start with our cute love, but that is long gone,
or I can do with our lovely tussles, which you always won.
I love to lose myself to you, Even after I lost you,
memories do the rest to bring you back, when with pen and paper I glue.
I hate to live the pain again, So I changed the topic.
And off I went to my college at the time of tropics.
The day I stepped in that place it was green all over
and the day I walked out, it dried in lack of shower.
I looked at every face of my friends, before leaving,
Each having the same question on them "Is this the beginning(of the end)??"
I started teasing the matters beyond my understanding
this very thought put me back in place that was haunting
now what should I write about? I am not capable of it anymore
I have nothing left to talk, My poems had reached the hoar.
My ink is drying without the lines it can boast about
And the paper lie still without the feelings to rout.
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Monday, 16 April 2012
A walk I so desperately want to remember.
where we accompanied each other
in those sweet Novembers
and in those sullen august rushes.
Though I was surrounded by the people,
I was home alone in those vacations
that might be, because of the hangover
of those entertaining Euro trip's we had.
When we used our own carnival of rust to hunt,
You know what I mean, The girl next door...
So damn tough clues to concentrate on our treasure hunts
They really made me feel like we are hunting a National treasure.
I really am going to miss those classes
yet road trip to them is a real big deal.
Even to forget the little moments with you people
will definitely be a mission impossible.
By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Sunday, 15 April 2012
The original outline of our first story ........ :)
There was nothing that he could do
except from keeping himself away from stew
for the promises he made to remain with her
he pushed his future and dreams in blur
He was no different from other living
He had this feeling inside him of loosing
not her but loosing hisself from him
yet he walked the road even when the chances were grim.
She made him believe that she is the psyche
to rest his soul in this life's pike
She used to call him prophet and she was his immortal
both worshiped each other though, but god had his chortle
He recovered from their first dispel
but she returned, she couldn't repel
her feelings for him inside
but not for long they could reside (together).
This time this was the truth which surfaced
for his large heart he felt guilty by the way he faced
he had no clear answer and she never returned again
his guiltiness increased when nothing worked with the bargain.
He felt crippled, broken beyond repair
she knew so well about him, yet she did not care
But when he came to know about the answer
his feet were too heavy to walk and he was too restless to be rested on bed.
He couldn't take it for long, time has just passed by his hand.
He forgot all other reasons to live, So now his is dead.