User:Vishal dogra

I am Vishal Dogra, working in Central Laboratory, Bureau of Indian Standards, New Delhi (India) as Stenographer (English & Hindi) presenting some of my poems here:

Lord Mother

'O' Lord Mother! who am I to you extoll;                                                                                                         and I am always before you with a begging bowl for a handsome dole

Your dole have trumpted up my soul                                                                                                    with a small fraction of affection                                                                                               although it is for you, but, is suffice for me                                                                                               to go through, the ups & downs;                                                                                                 when cried you are found

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Shall thine eyes, lift & drop, wait & respond; the feelings; though read thine own

Would it be! if it would be; what shall I write - asking myself and thyself; please respond!

Sot sought

In love to wine, to whom I say is not crying, On the peg locking the lips, Gulp the joy and the grief Every sot is of opine, to whom I say is not crying, In love to wine;

In the mood, Can everything suit; a call for wine, Whether or not its mine, In love to wine

Fraternity and equine, Can be brought with sips of wine, Few can just To the man Who has lust, For the wine, That for which he is crying

Radiance

A Glaring ray, To make the hay, Set the fire to daze the dark in a fray;

Cooler the night Warmer the day Suffice a cause for the fray, Until dawn in nights prey that glaring ray Wait the moment to make a hay;

By reaching peak Starts to bleak This blazing ray, Till dooms day Die hard To make the hay

Misery

In shivering cold, Across the road Someone there is barely clothed, With drawing sighs Gaze to every passerby.

By the jeer of his luck The moaning soul thinks How to tuck In chill of cold Across the road Someone there is barely clothed

The day when dip, In cold’s grip, He shed the tears In sobbing cries Pray soberly for his demise

Iron will

With iron will One can do a task uphill, To change the course of any stream, Even for him is not a dream;

In great spirit he himself adorn With the nuggets of rising storm; Sheer the waves when on rise, Against the wind he loves to fly;

The warrior in him is very cogent, Is crazy and has gallant Everywhere to setup his realm Even for him is not a dream

The willing one, Does certainly won, Every battle of his life & live his life ever in pride