I’ll be waiting my friend, at the street corner pub. Waiting for happy hours to end. Waiting for the waiter to Take the last orders. I’ll be waiting for My glass of wine to Concoct the image of you At my browned nicotined lips. I’ll be waiting at the railway station for the Last suburban
Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.
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Every morning my eyes open To the charisma of your beauty As if the-all-night-gaze wasn’t gratifying enough Please mind not if my fingers wander If my hands wrap around you Or If my lips kiss your feet in admiration They are too, crazy about you Watching you smile when you open your eyes Has been
Apathetic forever responses just try being bit concerned Readjust to a sense of giving for volumes to be returned Get rid of limiting blinkers to view all what surrounds Delights ripened for picking where bliss always abounds In vain quest of inexplicable old bridges which get burnt Prove means to an inapt end for lessons
The way the heart seems to be crumbling, The lingering touch that utters words, fumbling, When my eyes meet the shadow of your eye, We know that we should never say good-bye… Every small ending that we encounter, Leaves a hope to which we surrender, “I will see you tomorrow”,I said, “As long as tomorrow
My love is much like gem of royal crown, Appraised through fire that it’s luster would bring, And though no throne, my heart has ever known, With her around, I would feel like a king; She is at par with but the very best, Methinks, I am not far amiss to say, That she is
Once again it’s that time of the year When heart saddens and fills with emotions Mind reminisces with thoughts of bygones This day, that year! This day, that year! Recalls that little voice from within This day, that year! This day, that year! Her soft, dainty warm hand in mine A dance of love in
By the breath of god The dark curtain is washed One hearty sigh, cooled To a soft egg blue sky Silence in an orange glow Futile street lights On the sidewalk Not a soul Broken watch dials Whispered me to wake My circadian clock Ticking a-tock Eyes far too open Brain far too wired Searching
I casted an imagination today , I used the clay of my thoughts, Chiseled it with learning, Moulded it into words, Baked it with knowledge, And painted it with love.
Her touch has such softness I’m bound to miss, Light as a feather blown upon my face, To lay like lips with tenderest of kiss, That memory will always bear the trace; As stars of thousand longings are her eyes, Which haunted me in dreams for crores of years, And nothing graver than what time
I open my eyes and look outside my window, And see the ocean staring back at me… We have silent chats, I with my eyes, and she with her tides… The rising waves of the ocean, Have many stories to tell. They have traveled far, Witnessed wars, washed away plagues, Eaten the sky and coughed
Breathes there my love, lovely as nymph of sea, Her cheeks rosy as skies of Summer morn, While sunsets glow as long as dusk would stay, She would radiate, long after stars are born; When nights are overcast, devoid of lights, The sparkles emanate within her eyes, When good fortune withdraws all its delights, Her
The child in his arms, such a precious gift Her sweet loving smile would make his heart lift Born into a love that none could compare Baby blue eyes framed with curly blonde hair Conceived and born on love filled days From the first time he held her he was blown away His heart did