If in the morning when you wake,
If the sun does not appear,
I will be here.
If in the dark we lose sight of love,
Hold and have no fear,
I will be here.

I will be here,
When you feel like being quiet,
When you need to speak your mind I will listen.
Through the winning, losing, and trying we’ll be together,
And I will be here.
If in the morning when you wake,
If the future is unclear,
I will be here.
As sure as seasons were made for change,
Our lifetimes were made for years,
I will be here. 

by Steven Curtis Chapman

It’s such a little thing to weep,
So short a thing to sigh;
And yet by trades the size of these
We men and women die!

I Many Times Thought

I many times thought peace had come
When peace was far away,
As wrecked men deem they sight the land
When far at sea they stay.

And struggle slacker, but to prove,
As hopelessly as I,
That many the fictitious shores
Before the harbor lie.

by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

18/08/2004

Once there lived a stern old man
who led life with a cane in his hand.
His mind was as broad and open as the sky
But his heart was harder than his land.

Discipline, Respect and Tradition,
were the three hands of his time.
For those who went against these three
were pawns of an unforgivable crime.

He brought up his own blood, to live the same way,
And pass it down ear to ear.
To live a life, where children learnt,
Lesser out of respect, than fear.

Yes these men learnt a lot
a truth we all accept.
But was that all to be gained,
Pride, fear and respect?

However these men never learnt,
The joys of loving and forgiving.
And failed to realise till they breathed their last,
Making a ‘life’ is not the same, as simply making a ‘living’.

-Yatin Kamat

A Simple poem looking back at the good ol days as kids. Not that today isnt any good, its even better i guess. This just looks back at the best days of Life, and that we all had to grow up. So here goes…

Youthful Days

At the crack of dawn on sunny days,
with friends and toys in the field;
I’d find myself living my youth,
In search of happiness yield.

Garments to the knees,
Boyish smile, and flying on the swings.
Or with the kids in the village,
Playing with a quaint old ‘ring’.

Gone are the days, when I licked my sweat,
whose pearls were showered by the Sun;
And the days of rain, when we’d smell the mud,
Sing, dance and run.

Life looked happy, Happiness smiled,
And smiles brought out my dimple.
Ornaments were few, but dreams were big,
Life was large, but simple.

But growing up is a season of Life,
where you learn as you fall and stumble.
Where worries grow, smiles fade away,
and songs are replaced by grumbles.

Wish I hadn’t grown up,
Wish I was, the same youthful boy.
Wish I could be shining Rome,
rather than burning Troy.

~ Yatin Kamat.

Howdy people. This is my 1st post here.

For my first post, here’s a short poem I had written in pre-university college days.

Not great with the vocabulary. Simple words to say what’s in my mind, hoping that the reader can focus on the theme of the poem, rather than the language used.
Coz Poetry is just a hobby. And WordPress is my new diary. So here goes…

The Story.

She made me swim across the streams
and climb recumbent folds.
She reminded me of our memories,
Of days celebrated with gold.

As I walked through swamps,
marshes and forests, filled with hidden fears;
I dreamt of her, standing on the shore,
Face moonlit, and curls behind her ears.

She made me cry, made me weep,
kept me awakened through nights.
As she stood there, in the midst of stars,
Sparkling with luminous lights.

She made me fret, lick my sweat,
Burn the midnight oil.
Seducing me, with the fruits,
kept for after this heavenly turmoil.

But when i reached the mountain peak,
She finally ended this pain.
Success was this lady’s name,
and Life was this chosen game.

~ Yatin Kamat.