Each time I fall Every moment that I find myself broken Wallowing in sordid pain of yore Tempted to flee, desperate for refuge And fear I’ve reached the end of the tunnel You come to me then, like an angel Caress my heart and soothe my soul Hold me up and calm me down Your magic words, they prod me to hold on Your tranquil presence breathes life in me again Fills me with hope and urges me to fight My innate morosity and despair Every accolade, each trophy of mine, to you I attribute Mother, my beacon of life, my reason to survive
Preeti Govada is a freelance writer and poet. Born and brought up in Hyderabad, she’s done her MBA in Human relations and currently resides at Mumbai with her husband and son. She’s currently working on her upcoming book which is a collection of short stories. She loves observing people around her and integrating their experiences into her short stories and poetry. Besides dabbling at cooking, she enjoys travelling, browsing the internet, reading and spending time with her family. If you’d like to connect with her, you can email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Unthinkable. Lithograph of a malaise. I cannot talk. Will you abandon the thought and care about the drowning dawn? The bandaged ego of the book threatens the reader. Come and solve the puzzle of poetry. Everything was quiet except the
Swamy consented to give interview to an Australian team of six men None of them expected such a stunning miracle that awaited, then Swamy outlined at the outset oscillating health of the mother of one of them Who too nodded
Within the imagination I am content to live This is my stay I see how plenty, how ever-expanding it is The ‘All’ a rich array Of ever-rotating colors with which to paint And never fade away This is my stay