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Poems By Poet Snehal Bhosale  11/1/2014 3:12:53 AM
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  SNEHAL BHOSALE (05/09/1990)

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Life-A season of Diwali

Life's nothing...but all a season of diwali
chill at dusk and chill at dawn

All shimmer and quiver adorn the dark
when doth day-start, day-end

The childish twinkles of a sparkler
the explosion of ever-flowing youth
the agile colours of fantasy;

the serene luminiscence of diyas age-old
the message they carry, the truth they behold,

The sweet crisp of relationships
the exchange of love
the bondings that brotherhood cove.

Life's nothing...but all a season of diwali;
comes with grandeur, goes with pomp

Leaves behind sullen silence
reminiscent memories dense.
Snehal Bhosale



And The mountains echoed..poetic review

I ferry a big fat book on my back to read
I read it mostly not..for my eyes can't see
Not that I am blind
but 'coz they steal the light away
God the sun and
the driver the tube light..
When doth my journey to home take flight.

When I doth scarcely read it
i loose myself to it
I turn the pages as though I live by another life
The brother sister intrigues me as mine

I grieve desperately at their loss and
clutch my brother's hand
Lest he too drift away from me
as did pari midst the sand.

I live a dozen lives more
while hoping for pari to meet her abollah
And then my faith sinks
as does pari's wrinkles rise

A question lingers..
Will she remember to remember abdullah
then as a silver lining comes a call
Tells pari the story of her history et al

The oak tree, the swing, the house
the cart, the shadow of a burly canine
a soft fatherly touch eludes her
Canst she fathom how
time has brought to her
the sweet nothings of sentience
She had been living for.
Snehal Bhosale




Doth skin maketh a poem?
or does content do true.

why do we caress macaws and flamingoes
why not crows and sparrows?

the treacherous ghazni, stole gold long old;
A thirty and four times......
still little did we realise

A street painter could paint more sense
than did pounds and guineas worth.

what did not do rand or simon
did a bare Gandhi

what couldn't do battalions of forces,
did a mere lathi

Why do the Bible and the others atop the rest?
said a local swami...........
because the Geeta maketh the rest
Snehal Bhosale




The match-stick of thy life

is indeed very small,

Which hath been ignited by hands of God;

thine match-stick, has to accomplish a lot;

Each small deed, each small thought,

thou have to light the lamp

of love, spread thy light

and contribute many a glorious mite.

You shall burneth, the incense

of deeds, with a sinless heart & humble needs.

Which shall live on forever,

live for kith and for kin,

& also for the lofty low.

the fragrance of thine deeds, shall never disappear,

the light of your love, shall last on forever,

Even if your match-stick hath burneth to ash...!
Snehal Bhosale

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Poems By Poet Snehal Bhosale