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.

Paul Engle

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Love Sonnet 30

locked love lock

My love, we ventured deep in raging storms, Have groped in fogs, plodded on snow, Endured the scroll, aligned to rules and norms, Would we then die in calm, when no winds blow? For ships are stranded in such windless trips, Like dormant love, with passion locked and zipped, Should love pour grandly, or just

A Voice within…

A girl

There is a voice in me, I listen to barely. Invisible as phantom shadows, It haunts me, taunts me. I sip some poison Inebriated; It flaunts me. It knocks me off, Scissors me in two, ‘Good or evil, whose baby are you’? A thin line of heartbeat, Buttresses compassion The imp again gibes ‘So, giving

Kaleidoscope, of the millenium.


Guess what I am writing about? A strange phenomenon of recent times. Bright and Colorful, depicts interesting times… Takes off the monotony, a peep into lives… Success epics , someone’s frustrations galore, Wise ones’ words repeated, in circles of lore! It’s popular, it’s trendy, and times engaging …. Not serious, just tottering, scrolling and trolling..

The Knock

door knocker

Lo and behold that feeling once more has returned To tease, test and torment dead past willfully spurned From window shut forever heard unmistakable creak A portent of ensuing havoc and destruction it’ll wreak Dilemmas deemed sorted in archives since then lost Will augment latent agony with much heftier paid cost An arduous uphill drudgery