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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The Throne Of Lucifer

angel silhouette

The sunset blazes ‘pon the vault, This afternoon dies slowly forever, The world is overfilled with weariness and fatigue, Another episode of this life’s masquerade Comes to an end… The curtain falls… And beauteous Agnes Adoma, The prima donna of the opera house, A-shining in the luster of her fame, Leaves her beloved stage to

The Fragile Facade

soap bubble

How frail, in truth, is the world that we tread The captains and kings predicting calm seas ahead As they’re riding high, upon their silver spoons Laughing, as below the world withers; dying blooms How thin the membrane of life’s brittle bubbles Building our barriers and avoiding all troubles Do we wonder at the reasons;

To Motherland

To Motherland

I love thou not, o land of high hypocrisy, My country of the totalitarian democracy! I’d rather not hear thy people’s speech Or behold thy men’s disgraceful binge! I love thou not! If thou be a chariot, Old steeds are pulling you, the coach’s name’s Iscariot. He leads the steeds into the deep abyss, His

Someday Someplace

sunrise from trees

Yet be another dawn as pristine and pure With captivating awe and everlasting allure Sun rise once again same as since before Exuding perfect glory to behold and adore Stray clouds wafting free spirited unbound Casting soft shadows on perfect background Day devoid of sorrow sans any rueful disdain None cause for malice or anything

An Evening at the Cafe

Girl in cafe

Sumptuousness of the cafe, Sitting at the corner… Softly Decorated with glasses comforts of Air-Conditioner.. Silent faces unknown held down on phone-screen… Headphones and Ringtones like sounds of guillotine Inside the head-Rage and fire against the politics-bullshit of generation of liars shouting at the busy street Evening at the city through the transparent wall hiding

In a Social World

Pegs on the floor

One of these days… I want be so happy that I don’t need any filters to look beautiful. A candid moment of mine must have the power of thousand likes. My newsfeed shall be dedicated only to my most glorious antics. The happiness around my being will call for an immortal meme in my honor.

Where Elephants Go

woman chief

She does not see herself as the matriarch, but age and wisdom dictate that no-one is more deserving. Since his demise she has stood alone at the head, guiding with sage counsel and devotion. Loved and revered by those who have followed. The herd is spread, by distance alone. Closeness is a family trait. An