The pages of life have been filled To the brim Only few breaths are left Clinging to those few with hope yet alive Only memories of those moments Which have passed are left Why there is a feeling of suffocation in the aching heart Why in these days of no hope There is still a thin ray of hope The heart waits again and again for what kind of happiness Why it desires that which can be a dream only Why it desires that which weakens the heart Why why and why
Poet’s Note: The heart yearns for more and more knowing its days are numbered yet it clings to dear life for that one dream which was never fulfilled.
For a messenger of lies I lay down the script. A kick starts the game. I am the only visitor to the gallery. Kamasutra suicide displayed was a way of expression of a revolt against honour killing of your own
Sound Many sounds Living sounds A world is built with sounds Who is speaking? There are emotions Is madness an emotion? The question A common noise Out of the endless loop of noise a sound emerges Can you hear it?
Poetry is the heat, a part of my flame, it keeps me cool, envelopes in a frame. Am I sentimental, idle and worthless guy? Feeling keeps me human, passions let me fly. A force compels me to etch on papers