The wheels

Clean the biking gear - the helmet, the jacket and the accessories;

Lay the heart and head of a boy on the man's vehicle. 

Follow the nearest highway away from the usual roadblocks;

We want the ride, the moody wind caressing the locks.

The optimist says to accelerate through the emotional pages;

The realist checks for the toolkit, fuel in the tank and the clutch wire. 

The writer takes a theme and explores it's root by the wheel;

The artist brakes through the trip to pause and savor the passing sunset. 

The recluse parks the vehicle on a lonely road to smell the silence;

The monk teaches the anxiety demon to de-accelerate and breathe. 

The mind requests the eyes to relax and submits to the gravity;

The ear is sharp and converses with the senses for safety. 

The conscience wakes up and wishes to cleanse itself on the bygone roads

As the smile kicks in, when the theme is explored by the smell of your words! 

The Hive

Be the light - bright and white;

To charm in the night with the sunlight.

Be the hive - home it up with nectar;

To make it sweet with the toiling bees. 

Be the rose - with those bright petals;

Looking into the sun with the morning dew.

Be the honey - Don't get caged in the hive;

Be kind and fresh but only for the rose. 

Be the bee - Don't be strayed by the light;

Know your hive and the taste of the honey.

Be the song - Fluttering through the wings;

For the rose while trading ambrosia with the poem.

Be the Queen Bee - And play the song;

With 52 White bees and 36 Black bees. 

Poetry Café

In the land of thousand Haikus

We hop from one island to another

Swimming across the time and space.

We started running for the moment

Not for women, people or opponent

But for love, respect and commitment.

We dreamt of the free will

For that we honed our own skill

With Poetry, experience and travel-pill.

With stories from Germany to Jordan

Pulling ourselves from the domestic burden

Across the stars of Eilat until the Morning Sun.

The beautiful Sopot, we will ever cherish

Of the Bollywood Café and the people, so rich

For a while we asked the wanderlust heart to switch.

To find our soul’s calling in the words

A verse in the head first lingers

While we make the pen from our fingers.

With some Haikus and some mysteries

Just within our sweet mind territories

We make a thousand beautiful stories.