Hemant Shesh

And ultimately a poet unsung
Leaves the world silently
And shatters nothing, anywhere!
...

The world is narrow
And a silence clings around the trees.
What the future shall be like
No one knows…………
...

A colorful candle has just lit inside me
And the wax of words has started melting
Thus after many days-
Opened the window of poetry……
...

You would repent
That you could not kiss her.

Her being utterly beautiful is the first condition for an imaginary kiss.

You are worried that kissing her is not that simple.
...

Certainly
That broken bridge shall somebody repaired.
We shall remember the lost spring.

Where is everything?
What is the future of things in the darkness?
...

I do not know you Apoorva
But know you since many many years,
Where the words untold are concealed within the words uttered,
This mute conversation begins
...

We see the same dream every day
That flower are blooming silently
And the spring is descending from the firmament just like dew-drops.
In its utmost sacredness - the fragrance of March is creeping in the foliage
...

The word called 'love' has been reduced to a very low profile,
And it will continue to be so, The bollywood calls it 'pyaar'.

Our cheap novelists have further degenerated it,
With the result
...

At the same time this train passes every day.

I remember the dreams I had seen once.
Those cruelties, Those affections,
Those examinations I had passed
...

Our present
Playing with the fingers of uncertainty
Weaves the yarn of miseries.

All alone lies in the boat of time the paddle of darkness.
...

Our home was a sagging Minar
Where aspirations lived like cloths, worn,
The weathers wavering often visited it
As our bodies were just spaces to rest?
...

Everyday the things are recorded to have gone away.
Barges of moments reach banks and return answered.
Someone somebody ascends the stairs unknown tethered the finger of terror
Everybody the things are recorded to have gone away
...

How many were there - The boats: empty, abandoned and waiting,
Where did the travelers go who were to ride them on their return
An afternoon was passing through our bodies like a train and there were
A few swifts with colors of sunset glittering in their eyes
...

Where are the race-course gone?
The man tethered in the stable is crying hoarse.
...

Now there is no use feeding milk to your own sleeves.
Snakes have appeared just at a hand shaking distance.
I had said to those aged men
Who had strong belief
...

We shall forget the names of many of our classmates.
The faces of relatives.
We will forget those Railway platforms
Where we once descended during our journeys.
...