Works of Adityaa Wagh

We all have been imparted a vision by the so called ' Lensmaker ' - God! If we're all equal in the eyes of God then why are our visions so diff erent ? THE LENSMAKER                               - 20 Sept' 15 Oh Lensmaker sitting up there, How could you be so unfair. Gifting eyes of vision to all, But eyes seeing the truth are rare. It would've been better if you had blessed each one of us this blessing, But instead you left some of my friends in a game of guessing. Guessing how the world looks like! The ones who can never witness the sunset nor could go on an adventurous hike. We seldom use the eyesight to appraise the beauty of things; like adoring a scoop hot chocolate fudge, The only thing we do with our eyes today is to judge! We bifurcate each other under fat, short ,tall, thin very skillfully, Better are blind people who treat every person on the planet equally.✨ Why only...

{In this poem, I've tried to compare the different times & situations of human life with the camouflage master - chameleons! I feel like times change their colors just as chameleons do.} Times are the greatest chameleons I've ever known. Times are like reptiles, Bad ones will creep for miles, Good ones will soar airborne. Times are the greatest chameleons I've ever known. Don't try to shoo them away, They'll set your life astray! Just observe them don't leave'em alone, Times are the greatest chameleons I've ever known. Some will scorch your brains, Some will make you smile even in the rains. Even the ugliest have beauty of their own, Times are the greatest chameleons I've ever known. Some beg to differ from their trait, Some are referred as “bad fate". Some would scare you till you moan, Times are the greatest chameleons I've ever known! Some are old while some are new, Some of them could horrify the guts in you. But ...

Disappointed Stan was walking on the shore, Without a spouse his life had become a bore. Sadly walking by the riverside, He bumped into a lady licking a bar of cyanide. Astounded at first, His eyes started to burst. Keenly Observing the lady with whom did he just collide, The lady holding the bar of cyanide. She held his hand both started walking, And then the lady started talking. So here I meet my guide, You helped me discover I could too taste cyanide. Wearing a red dress and carrying an umbrella, She stated her name was Abella.  The only difference between them was that she did hide, Her talent of tasting cyanide. Abella ate that bar in front of him to lure, While Stan felt deeply insecure. Because there was girl by his side, Who also had declared the taste of cyanide! They talked and walked every evening, And celebrated their brand new beginning. And after their early morning cycle ride, They shared a bar of cyanide. Then he dropped her at her home, ...

He carried stars in his pocket, He knew she fears the dark. His dream was to fit in her heart's socket, And he let the other bitches bark. He used to write rhymes for her, He knew she's fond of reading. There were many works of him, For which only her name was the heading. She was his favorite inspiration, Without her his life was doomed. And he was at the peak excitation, The moment her eyes gloomed. She was the missing piece of puzzle, He enjoyed being loyal to her. Her eyes used to sparkle, Her touch as soft as the cat fur. Like the charm of a diamond locket, Her personality had that enchanting spark. He carried stars in his pocket, He knew she fears the dark. ~Adityaa Wagh

Once upon a time there lived a man, Don't know his name but people called him Stan. Maybe he forgot that he had nature's rules to abide, And went ahead and declared the taste of Cyanide. He told this matter to the News, And within seconds he got thousands of views. His life then became a joyride, After he declared the taste of cyanide. People asked him how does it taste, And he told them licking that toxic paste. Its like a spicy ocean with a salty tide, Yes, that's what's the taste of cyanide. Soon he was referred as one of the gentic mutants, Because he used to taste all the toxic reagents. He had a secret talent that he didn't hide, It was the talent of tasting Cyanide. Companies started fighting for his appointments, And were ready to spend millions on this immortal patient. His energy drink was now Hydrogen Sulphide, After he declared the taste of Cyanide. But no girl wearing a wedding gown stood by his side, And poor Stan never did find a ...

What's the use of a poem in which rhythm ain't stationary. a poem for which the reader needs to refer the dictionary. What's the use of a poem that won't create suspense, sarcasm or fear? A poem that would appear just to disappear! What's the use poem that doesn't rhyme, A poem that'll consume a lot of time but eventually lose all its chime. A poem without rhyming words, Its like writing integers in surds. What's the use of a poem without a rhyme scheme? Just like a sundae without an ice cream. What's the use of writing in which stanzas are messed up and unequally spread. You could've written an essay instead!                               -Adityaa Wagh

No need to get sad about incidents, Nor become too much happy. What is now a scorching desert, Was once a lively sea. Learn to face situations, Don't escape or try to flee. For what once was trapped in a cocoon, Is now a fearless bumble bee. Not all people are meant to fulfill your expectations, Maybe not all of them were just. Not all have stood behind your back, The ones whom you used to trust. Sometimes it doesn't matter who; is real and who's fake. But who took a stand for you, When your dignity was at stake. But see that you neither become sad about this incident, Nor do you become too happy. The desert that I talked about, Is still a lively sea...                           -Adityaa Wagh