Words of Clay – “Be my King”


Be my King this life,

I shall uproot that seedling of ego,

Shoo away from within my emotions of strife,

Into my ears, your weakness when they blow,

I shall wag it lame, bark it a hoax,

For in the game of  the wise,

The one in checks, without the dice,

Both, the King and his Pawn are packed back into the same box…


Artist : Gauri Sakhuja

Words of Clay” is a poetic journey through the creations of Gauri Sakhuja, a young and talented Indian sculptor from her latest solo exhibition at Triveni Kala Sangam, New Delhi, India.


For more on the artist, visit : https://www.facebook.com/gauri.sakhuja/about

Personal Diaries – ‘Wins the Hare’


Hungry flowers are blooming everywhere,

Blind seedlings are mushrooming here and there,

Hues of helplessness are painting this part of the sphere,

The superior has little voice,

Starving secured on deeds right,

In its shell, awaiting the moment like the tortoise,

Sky high waves of ignorance are abundant in sight

Lashing dry sands of simplicity, wet,

Pace-less on highways, a peekaboo has it trembling in fear,

While, the inferior toils swift in sweat,

Wide-eyed it shines above ones, near and dear,

Empty sacks of wisdom are concealed crystal clear,

Hips and hops, some smart talks, hollow confidence dear,

Fake it to survive, knows the sharp-eared Hare…




Image Credit: http://fineartamerica.com/

Monsoon Afresh !!!


That gush and gurgle in the drain,

From charcoal skies down pours the rain,

Rolls the city on a day lit by lamps,

Streets washed, then a dirty revamp,

As if straight out of a swamp,

An odor of moist grass and fresh filth looms in the air,

Unchanged is that breeze slow, heavy with craving, luring wet,

Thunder growls, moments of hush whispers,

Fierce gales kissing cool, then windless lulls,

Mirth and anger of the drenched atmosphere,

To breathe back, you aren’t here,

It must be a virgin monsoon for you out there,

For mine’s grown more lush and green,

Now more pungent is the odor, banished serene,

Droplets touch, smooch and dry away,

There’s no more a celebration, or that reason,

Will this be the end to monsoon afresh?

Juicy cloud bursts can taste dry no more,

Soon the heavens shall be sending me a new sufferer,

To walk along the dark roads in the drizzle, out of your prism…















Image Credits :



“The Verdict of Peace” – A Monologue in Verse


A gathering in Jupiter, where present are the supreme Gods and Goddesses of each and every religion that thrives on Earth.

Objective: To end all religious wars, once and for all.

The gathering is headed by Jupiter, the Greek god of the ancient and presently, obsolete Roman State religion.

The seemingly seamless panel of Jury consists of spirits of each and every dead poet and writer from planet Earth.

Seated high on a frozen hydro-rock, manliness draped in unstitched silk, helium eagle by his side,


The chiseled Greek God speaks,

“Divine Handlers are you all here?

My religion is forgotten, dead are ones it had begotten,

So from this throne I shall speak unbiased,

Today, we’ll spit wars futile,

Harmony shall be the only necessity,

We’ll put an end to all this hostility,

No matter how claustrophobic your spawns might have to survive,

Today we’ll punish you with Peace and you’ll humbly oblige…

 Lord Buddha! Are you there?

Are you visiting Earth regularly?

How are some of your children acting that vicious and wild?

The jury has some orders for you,

Rush back to Myanmar; control the crisis in faith,

Preach afresh, do whatever it takes, do it now,

We can no more wait…


Now, to all my Lords, pay some attention,

Put me through your speakers in every sky on Earth,

One religion, one country,

Is that what you want? So Be It,

We’ll have the oceans help you have it easy,

In the silent of the night,

It will intelligently partition lands, like wide streams flow in between,

Into smaller fragments, all the land on Earth, we’ll divide,

One country shall feed on only one religion,

No permanent passports for one to forever breathe foreign,

Your land is yours, mine’s mine,

Produce and reproduce till your land can hold heads by,

Immigration and emigration shall be terms forgotten,

Stir your souls in your own soup,

And, then flush it out with your morning poop,

Erase all your country names creative,

Erase that fake secular smile,

Dull Nations, suits you humans, actors locked in their roles of sanity,

From this day, your countries will be listed this way,

Islam 1, Islam 2, Islam 3…,





Buddhism 1, Buddhism 2, Buddhism 3,…






Christianity 1, Christianity 2… to infinity.”


Heads low in shame, swearing within to implement and sustain, depart the Gods and Goddesses.

Discussions jostle in the jury

While, Jupiter gets busy sketching brand new triggers of fury…



( An enraged reaction to the recent bombings in India at Bodh Gaya, the seat of Lord Buddha’s enlightenment, caused in retaliation to the saddening plight of Muslims in Myanmar at the mercy of a Buddhist majority.)

“Terror strikes Bodh Gaya, serial blasts rock Mahabodhi Temple”


“Plight of Muslims in Myanmar”

http://www.kashmirmonitor.in/news-plight-of-muslims-in-myanmar-50419.aspx )




Image Credits:



Reader’s Love 7


She serves till I’m full,

When overflows my pessimistic pool,

For an optimistic burger, when I’m hungry,

I find here there, in her words that soothing cool,

I’m privileged to gorge on her sumptuous servings of positivity,

When dies that immaculateness in faces around,

I take to her verses, where romances me Nature,

Drifts me away originality,

Into a world more pristine than round

Miles away from those pangs of material stature,

To dip in her solace green,

To catch glimpse of the beauty around us, preserved unseen,

You’ve to read her for from my words you cannot measure,

That contentment you’ll derive from this poet’s treasure,

Listen up mates, writers and poets,

From the right and left wings of this globe,

From the oil towns of UAE, the castles and cafes of Europe,

From the blocks of Vegas, the painted streets of Australia,

You can’t miss out on her work,

Her name’s Soumya (http://soumyav.wordpress.com)


Thank You Soumya (http://soumyav.wordpress.com/about/) for showering so many awards upon MyLores.com.

Comfort through your words and your relentless support through your comments and awards continue to inspire and motivate.


More Awards for MyLores.com

  1. The Most Creative Blogger Award
  2. The Loyal Reader Award
  3. Best Moment Award
  4. ABC (Awesome Blog Content) Award

 awesome-blog-content-awardthe-most-creative-blogger-award2-from-deo best-moments loyal-reader-award

Feels Great! Honoured!


Thank You Soumya (http://en.gravatar.com/soumyav),

Thank You Friends, Readers and Fellow Bloggers


God Bless

Debaroon 🙂



Image from : https://soundcloud.com/soumyav

Indigo Depths


Into indigo depths of that calm ocean,

Let us sink in for our eternal promotion,

Can you hear that breathless still?

Bubbles in your ears, out of your nostrils?

We’ll paddle into that swaying forest, perpetually moist,

The fate of those scrubs and bushes born drowned,

We’ll kiss them wet, celebrate their fate, pluck some for our crowns,

Ball to mute motions of the prey and the hunter,

Adorn ourselves with forgotten treasures from sunk  plunder,

In tight embrace, we shall greet dolphins and whales,

Will turn down their pleads to come along,

Snort some air from the surface,

We’ll rather, butterfly deeper to the creeks on the bed,

Scare away the snobbish Electric Eel, conquer his hide-out,

Let us then suck each other off our last ounces of breath,

Lips on lips, closing eyes, the end’s switched on,

The mermaid’s harp, you can hear aloud, shall slowly faint,

Our beginning we never could paint,

But, the end is ours; we’ll design it our way,

Our resurrection shall engrave our love immortal,

Our passion shall have the shark stop for an impractical ogle,

Now foams our vision, our senses are in a lather,

We are bunking His test,

We’re skipping His mandate,

Scrubbing off our skin, bar-codes of His conquest,

To dissolve our naked clutch  into the water’s beauty,

Our stripped  souls into its blue patented liberty,

Let us  switch off for the best…



(May our Souls rest in Peace in Embrace…Amen!)




Image from :  http://www.hotelclub.com/http://www.sammiseahorse.com/

The Lull Spider


Lights dull, dim and gone,

Screams, then surrounds declarations chill,

A Morrison from dusk to dawn,

Beyond that naked green grill,

Shunned outside, Oxygen waits futile still,

Consciousness is stretched in a tug-of-war inside,

Jaws of visions bloom into a bungalow for those souls to reside,

Curtains down on those spirits, rolls off those glittery veils,

Realizations of compromise scurry naked,

Passion leakages beam whiter,

That rented oven bakes on a few minds,

The mocker’s crawl is about to cease,

For that gloating arthropod, awaits a hypnotic surprise,

Now eight legs useless, it has to unwind,

In that haze, pasted to the wall,dazed,

Into the void, caught paranoid, lull’s the spider…





Image from :http://www.spiritofspider.com

My White Mare


Gallops in my White Mare,

Arrogant, she seems to have pledged,

Won’t let me stand and ogle,

Swifter than the clouds, faster than the Hare,

She’ll swim the oceans, run the land,

Preserve me dry, on my skin those crystals of sand,

We’ll wade across the Bay of Bengal into Port Blair,

On to those blue beaches shining to conceal the Human Zoo*,

She seems to have promised herself,

She’ll fetch me love, truck and boat me to your Lair,

Gallops in my White Mare,

Arrogant, she seems to have pledged,

Enough of your absence, now she’ll dare,

She’ll piggyback me to you, make it fair,

Have you “a statue with a wide-eyed stare”,

She’ll piggyback me to the End of this Nightmare,

Gallops in my White Mare…



*Human Zoo – The Andaman and Nicobar Islands on the Bay Bengal is a popular tourist locale, famous for letting tourists tread into its interiors to catch a glimpse of a multitude of scattered and rare ethnic tribes in their natural habitat.

Lately, the court has banned all commercial and tourism activities within a five-km radius of the Jarawa Tribal Reserve on the Andaman and Nicobar Islands.  For more, visit:




Image from : http://www.glogster.com

We’ll Run…


Try tearing it apart,

You’ll never reach its heels,

You’ll only have your starts,

Never-ending is this canvas,

Your time shall only pass,

Sinned for life, robbed off  smiles,

Your tries shall cry futile,

Interminable, on Skates of Infinity,

Rolls this Race of Humanity,

Many will make it, some will not,

Those infected your way will slowly rot,

But, the race shall never die out,

You’ll run short of bombs,

Shall lick failure,

Your bloody revolution,

Shall mock you,

The wheel of Evolution,

Hearts from across the globe tied to ours,

Spirits snatched off their shells on our back,

To send the Devils a Heavy Pun,

The Race shall gone on,

Until the End, We’ll Run…


(Dedicated to the undying spirit of participants that pledged to run the unfinished bombed out final lap of the fateful Boston Marathon’2013.

For more, visit:

Thousands complete last mile of Boston Marathon

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-22670695 )


Image from: http://www.usatoday.com

Those Many Days…


Those many days with you beside,

Were spent gazing sails of boats sailing by,

Sticky you remain on my eyes, lips and cheeks,

From the little Sunlight concealed behind those clouds,

I am knitting love into your shawl,

Sticky you remain on my fingers, hands and shoulders…

Now the meaning of love lingers from your nails,

Into your ears, I’m adorning my tales,

I’m staring empty at a thousand evenings in veils,

While the city’s tearing apart on the other side,

While the traffic’s cacophony’s sucking our dreams pale…

The way you were wrapped around,

Ice felt sleepy, it did lose its chill,

I search you around, here and there, every now and then,

Before, the train signals green again,

A stone on my chest, a smile on my face,

Begins the same journey to our own ends,

To pick and pile currents of life,

My pace at the dinner table remains,

Love’s not grown old here,

Like those potato skins,

It peels out a lil’ everyday,

For a newer Me, for a fresher Me,

Sticky you remain on spade-hands of my wall-clock,

Those many days with you beside,

Were spent gazing sails of boats sailing by,

Sticky you remain on my eyes, lips and cheeks,

Sticky you remain on my fingers, hands and shoulders…



(Directly inspired from the Bengali song, “Je Kota Din (Those Many Days)”, scripted by the young and talented music composer, Anupam Roy.

For the song, visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7AGyNPkXF4 )


Image from : http://www.airninja.com