Rajiv Prajapati Poems
A wave of power rushes past you on a windy day waving your hair into disarray and tingling your skin A formless power makes you comfortable in the biting cold the same power fills you in agony, pain and suffering
Ah, me! where is freedom as to mine? Ah, me! free from the whims of whimsical Society. Free from the need to care, to understand
Death in Sleep, OBE and a Ghost
Last night, forgetting all cares and toils of life, Weary, I lay myself on a couch to rest- Forgetting all there was to do - even for my own best and an accursed sleep as it was to be,
A bit of Heartache
The beginning: - a shattered glass heart epoch: - some peaceful storm inside A species of pain inside-like Wind
The skies have darkened (for him) , and the threads pull and drain the color of The life also; the man in that feeble will is a puppet yet. All is now dying away, and yet the Age has not past half— Ignorance in zenith, and the exhausting pleasures
A dip into the Infinite current, A glimpse, a feel of the White Light a moment of Supreme Bliss Supreme Attraction, Supreme Addiction
Truth And Ignorance
The clouds of illusion within the self brewed in the childhood mould, they poison the very air around us through the breath that us make.
Darkness bind, and the cold spirit of the cell chills the soul is frozen mind is blind-
A Dying Man
The sorrow surrounding a dying man and the dark shadow that watches him; All the dreams that life presented him, are somehow seeming only dreams within a dream.
One day, while on a trip to a tame wood unfar I came in contact with a rock on the ground that I did not see- and so stumbled across a magnificent space of floor
I actually wrote this in paragraphs so I don't know if it can be called a poem. But it can't even be called an essay. Read on. 'Once upon a time, I had a life. Once upon a time, I was alive, free and whole.
Comments about Rajiv Prajapati
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
A wave of power rushes past you on a windy day
waving your hair into disarray and tingling your skin
A formless power makes you comfortable in the biting cold
the same power fills you in agony, pain and suffering
when you go straight to possess the heart of that comfortable power
and it is the same power which falls out of the clouds in little drops
and each of these are a single form of power
for the power is in the air
and the power is in the fire and the power is in the water.
A beam of power ricochets into your eyes from something
and you are illuminated ...