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Àŧùl Jan 2022
In Bhaarat, the Lok Sabha
Requires a 10th attendance
To function.

Yet, they hardly work,
But they consume
Our resources.
My HP Poem #1950
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Dec 2021
Just like myself,
My love lasts forever,
But not for just one entity,
I love everyone equally.
I should love my creation,
Should I not?
My HP Poem #1949
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2021
Today, I feel free,
Free to love you,
Yes, I do feel so...

Today, I feel possessed,
Possessed by you,
Yes, I am so...

Today, I feel happy,
Happy to be with you,
Yes, I want you only so...

Today, I feel obsessed,
Obsessed with your love,
Yes, I am totally obsessed...

Today, I feel closer to you,
I am closer to your lips,
Yes, I hold your hips...

Today, I feel lifted up,
Up until the dark sky,
Yes, you are my light.

Today, I feel entangled,
Entangled in your slivers,
Yes, you are the biggest star.
My HP Poem #1948
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2021
The date was 15 August 1947,
And India became a dominion of the Crown.
It remained so until 26 January 1950,
When India became a Democratic Republic.
So, it was not before 26 January 1950,
When India became completely independent.

And they eulogise the bald old man,
As if it was only his non-violence.
No, credit it to the Azad Hind Fauj,
And more so to the broken British economy after the Second World War.

Correct me if you know better,
Take care to be mild.
To your words, apply some butter,
Do not be so wild.
Discussions are open.
My HP Poem #1947
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2021
When I write a love poem,
I make sure that it rhymes.
When I write a love poem,
I aim for her heart's chimes.
When I write a love poem,
I make sure to commit the crimes.
The crimes of loving truly,
And crimes of writing the truths.
The crimes of being lovely,
And crimes of romancing the youths.
My HP Poem #1946
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2021
Here it comes,
The great war it's called.
Stuck you're since eons,
But good news comes with the herald.

The war will be over soon,
You can finally return home.
Don't celebrate your loss,
You lost many friends.

Those friends that died,
You sang melodies with them.
Melodies to the Goddess of death,
Melodies to the wife at home.

Now be strong,
And move along.
For they are dead,
And the dead don't return.

This war showed you a lot,
A lot that matters to you.
Friends are like leaves,
They are lost in the wind.
My HP Poem #1945
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2021
They all seem to fade away,
They drift farther everyday.

One day comes and you are lonely,
Love yourself as you're yours only.

They're mortal & so is everything,
As for me, I don't know anything.
My HP Poem #1944
©Atul Kaushal
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