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Best Poems Written by Vasudha Rohatgi

Below are the all-time best Vasudha Rohatgi poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Vasudha Rohatgi Poem

Look To Tomorrow With a Smiling Face

You wander upon your path in pursuit of happiness, 
as you toil through the days that come.

The bystander watches as the moments of joy roll past, 
your very eyes –
Oh, What this life has become!

You see life for what it should be,
for what it was, 
for what it could be.
And not for what it is, 
but for what it must be.

For life is the clay that you must shape, 
into such a castle, such that others can but gape. 
Such is the thought that circles each mind,
that dictates each word and action of each kind.

For, we – we run, skip and jog through our days, 
forgetting to stop and take notice –
The world is changing in a myriad of ways.

And change, it is beautiful, 
whether we resist and persist, 
to bring consistency in the flow of the river of life.

But a river must flow over rocks and boulders –
so must life.
For, there is no fun to the boat ride, 
without a little topographic strife.
Understand this, you must, 

that life is no game.
Life isn’t a farce, life isn’t a race. 
For life is your journey, your story, 
and your only faith. 
So rise, 
and look to tomorrow with a smiling face.

Details | Vasudha Rohatgi Poem

If Time Changes, Then Why Don'T We

I’d heard of Persephone, that beautiful earthly maid,
Who’d vowed her love to Hades, although her mother forbade –
An enraged Demeter scorched the earth; a desolate paradise was made,
But Persephone visits still, embrocating this soil-
I know, because these winters would always fade…

But if time changes, then why don’t we?
My time is still stagnant as far as the eye can see.

They say that time can heal all those wounds and fill all those holes,
that rupture, corrode, poison and abrade the soul.
But I am waiting for time and time is waiting for me,
to forget, forgive and forgo my hurt; to set me free.

Time warps all, rules all- it renews and ruins all that was, is and will be,
then why won’t time help that sunken and lowly being, that which is me?

My memories flow in an emulsion of hate and melancholy,
They have flowed, and flowed, and flowed - this river is yet to join the sea,
The sea that will fall off the ends of the earth-

How I wish it would carry that sunken and lowly being, that which is me…

I don’t blame you; my life was a place where you couldn’t be.
Thought I could lock away my heart, and give time its key.
But the key is lost now, all my emotions seem to flee-
the tears, the pain, the helplessness that came when you went,
they trickle down my abraded cheeks- I’ve lost a part of my heart,
I am an amputee.

I do blame time, that awful, abstract, vulgar object that people desire,
they say that it’s not theirs, they don’t have it and do want it to wait,
Ha ha! Time is conceited, cruel, a careless entity-
It won’t help me; it will do no good now- my time sure is late.

I’m sure though, that your time has changed and time has changed you,
Time must have helped you to revive and yourself, renew.
But time has shunned that other half of the picture that lies shattered on my marble floor,
it chose not to fix me, and simply walked out my door.

We all are made, broken and fixed,
by the time that switches the season and tide.
It floods the dimensions, within which we thrive, seek and hide.
It is I, the one unwilling to overlook the past, is me-

And thus, I wonder, if time changes, then why don’t we?

Details | Vasudha Rohatgi Poem

Escapism

I remove my glasses to blur my view, 
of my disgraceful face, that’s painted a strange hue.
Reality peers back at me, from the bottomless
shallow mirror, 

My self peers back at me, 
with disbelief, regret and horror.

I remove my glasses so that I cannot see, 
that which I’m not and that which I’ve wanted to be.
I close my eyes, so I’m now in a trance, 
of an alternate universe, a new theme, 
a new life, a new romance.

I remove my glasses and put them aside, 
and think back to better times, waiting 
for my pain to subside.
But as I shuffle through my memories, relief - 
I cannot seem to get,
because the past is filled with insurmountable regret. 

I remove my glasses and put them in their case 
and reminiscence about my beliefs, the dreams I used to chase.
But all this sorting reveals only mistakes, 
mistakes, mistakes, mistakes 

Oh, so many mistakes…

I remove my glasses because it’s time to sleep, 
I wrench today’s goals from the thought bubble, 
and discard them into the unachieved heap.
As I sink to the bottom of the bed at the end of the day I've fought, 
I plummet into the depths of my innermost thought, 

that preaches ‘useless’, ‘ worthless’, ‘hate’
that preaches ‘loser', ‘ugly’, ‘ late’
that dictates my action  and my inaction, 
that dictates my speech and my silence.

And as I lose myself to the seduction of rest, 
I try to revive in me, an anticipation for the morrow - 
a dying and hopeless, bedridden zest.

The sun will bring with it, a new day, 
the day will begin coffee, sticky notes, 
in the same old unaccomplishing way.
I will remove my glasses to blur my view, 
I will remove my glasses to disillusion myself, 
I will remove my glasses to remove myself
to a new fantasy, a new retreat, a new game.

I will remove my glasses to feed my escapism,
and let the footsteps of my desires lead me into a new daydream, 
of wonder, success and fame.

But still, 
I can hope. 
And still,
I will hope, 
that the morrow is not barren of new opportunities.

But still, 
I can pray.
And still, 
I will pray, 

that the morning air instils a new confidence, 
in me, as, from my lucid dreams, I wake,
in me, who limps behind the forerunners of the race. 

For there is life to be loved, and life to be lived, 
and mine is a future in the making, 
a future to face.

Details | Vasudha Rohatgi Poem

Submerged Under the Clock

Sounds creep into my ear, sounds that have wandered
over these valleys, mounts and plains, once debased by ruined man,
sounds that creep from the crevices of these wrecks, they have wandered-
over time and seasons, under the sky, now painted cyan.

They tell me of mortal spoils,
how the living scorched the earth by mindless strife and broils.
They tell me of diabolic alchemy,
how golden fields burned, screaming, for what was the devil’s euphony.

These sounds have survived that marriage between man and arms,
they now course through these settlements, homes and barns.
Appraising these stories about the power of time,
telling these innocent mortals of the epochs of wartime.

They sing of its glory- time - it is unrelenting, unforgiving, almighty and true,
the time, it is often called God, Zeus, the fourth dimension –
has changed the colour of this atmosphere which now bears a unique hue,
has altered what comprised the heavens - the sky wasn’t always blue.

They sing of its work – time – has achieved so much more than what we could,
has subverted the things that we did, wouldn’t and would
do for us and that which isn’t us,
things -most unnecessary, unneeded- over which we’d fuss.

It is time, which has dug the graves of those in history,
who came, killed, conquered and ruled – time is revealing, yet itself, a mystery.
It is time, which has taught these people the might of words and the plight caused by cruelty, hatred and those who did fight.

What remains now, are memoirs, lessons, and all that could be absorbed,
from these once-unfortunate grounds that reeked of blood,
for they now have sprawling grass that covers carcases of hateful man, intermingled and nourishing the mud.

Time, it is an overlord of entropy and dissipates accumulated hate and shock,
Time, it keeps untold histories submerged under the clock.

Details | Vasudha Rohatgi Poem

Relentless

Relentless, are these hands 
They moved as I ran, 
They shifted as I crawled,
They advance as I stay still,
They creep as I walk. 

Relentless, are these hands
They danced as I breathed, 
They shall sweep as I cease, 
They have moved throughout life, 
They will move forevermore. 

Unloving, are these hands
That effortlessly escape my loving grasp,
Pragmatic, are these hands
That make progress as I make talk, 
Callous, are these hands
That smear shame at my face and mock, 
Persistent and deaf, unstoppable and blind, 
Relentless, are these hands,


The hands of the clock.

Details | Vasudha Rohatgi Poem

To Act When the Skies Are Still Blue

We’ve stomped, encroached and tread, 
upon the very soil that gave us our bread.
But the soul of Gaia now aches for a remedy,
from the wounds, it has borne from our deeds, so helplessly.

 It isn’t too late to save and conserve, 
the resources that not only we but others too deserve.
It’s the little things that we do which make the count, 
our wastage and overuse are what we must take into account.

For each paper we use and each page is worthwhile, 
only if we use each inch and not let them pile.
Each morsel of food that graces our mouth, 
we must respect it and be grateful, not uncouth.

For mother earth drains her blood to produce what we eat,
which is why it must be honoured, every grain of wheat.
To clean and pick up trash is an act much dignified, 
as it rejuvenates our earth which would otherwise have slowly died.

To be wary of the ways in which we pollute, 
being mindful, too, is a great way to contribute.

It is thus time to stop the deliberation and talk,
and to form a resolution - get up and walk.
Let us do our bit for our land, seas and air, 
Let us do our bit to show the planet that we care.

Details | Vasudha Rohatgi Poem

The Warmth of Stars

I know, 
that the world is not all sorrow, 
and to look forward to, 
there must be a tomorrow - 
that we are what we know and feel, 
and not the God before whom we kneel. 

I know, 
that there will always be light, trying to filter 
through the rain, 
and there is a smile that can cover the carnage of our pain, 
and that there is struggle where there is no reward,
that there is loss, and there is discord. 

I’ve been told ,
that there are expectations, but no hope
I’ve been told, 
that the world is harsh, 
and the world is cold, 

for, survival is a job for the bold, 
and there is no love that stays within our hold. 

Yet, 
I try to grasp the waters that course 
through the turbulent river of dreams.
I try to grasp the stars that twinkle in my closed eye, 
and the future,
for an instant, 
is not as barren as it seems. 

Because I believe, 
that we have the might to see and hear, 
the plight of those, whose cries may not be near.
And I believe, 
that we have the power to change 
our thoughts, our actions and all our evil ways.

For I believe, 
that the mission of our kind, 
is to act in service and pay mind, 
and I’m sure 
that God is in us, and the nature that is our keep -

the transition to a beautiful life, 
need not be a light year leap. 

To love, live and serve must be our duty, 
to understand and keep our faith,
is our holy task, 
for I believe in a world restored to its former beauty, 

there will be a time for us to bask underneath the reviving warmth of stars.

Details | Vasudha Rohatgi Poem

Thank God

Thank God, I was born, 
in a world of hate, 
and in a world of scorn, 
in a world that shares the earth’s beating heart, 
and a world that’s drifting, several worlds apart. 

Thank God, I can see, 
the people who are killed, 
and the people who are set free,
from their own homes and their own land, 
destroyed, are the walls they’ve built with their own hand. 

Thank God, I can hear, 
the silenced, raging cries, 
of lost children who cower in fear,
of that which they’ve known and that which is now, not, 
and of the love that has perished in the battles that love has fought. 

Thank God, I aspire, 
that I have hope 
and I aim higher, 
than most people can raise their crown,
and those people whose smile is but a straight frown. 

Thank God, I see past, 
these concrete walls, into the inferno, 
in which the world’s doomed to be cast,
in which lies the devil, who will feed at your creations, 
God, 
this world is falling fast. 

Thank God, you’ve given man thought, 
for all the might he has made and all the might he’s brought, 
stripped mercilessly from the womb of nature,
he’s made himself a new home, 
he’s built himself a future. 

Thank God, you’ve never rebelled against man, 
which is why he made religion, 
which is why he thinks he can, 
subdue your people with weapons and arms, 
subdue your creations, your love and your farms. 

Thank God, you’ve given man, power, 
to create a breed,
and perpetuate his greed, 
through holy and unholy means - 
And thrive in his brutal creed. 
 
People combust and fly to bits, 
parts dispersing like the dandelions you’ve made,
disassembled by the hate they’ve assembled, 
flesh ripping apart - 
The world – God – is balanced on the lip of a blade. 

The land you’ve nurtured 
has matured into a beast, 
and the land you’ve birthed, 
is never satiated, but by a blood feast! 

For my fortunately unfortunate fate, 
the world is going up in smoke, and all that’s left is a wraith. 

Thank God, I have no religion 
because in God, 

I have faith.

Best Poems Written by Vasudha Rohatgi

Look To Tomorrow With a Smiling Face

Let Me Burn

The Metamorphosis of Life

If Time Changes, Then Why Don'T We

Escapism

Submerged Under the Clock

Relentless

To Act When the Skies Are Still Blue

The Warmth of Stars

Thank God