Windows short poem

Photo by schmollmolch

An outlet to the magic world
Through which we see wonder
We see what we oblige to see
You like , it doesn’t matter.
Passing by the road is a gal
As if come from nowhere
A bunch of roses in hand
For whom, it doesn’t matter.
A quarrelling couple riding
His face is red with anger
She crying on the way
For what, it doesn’t matter.
A mother and her cute child
Smiling and giggling always
Happy for no reason at all
You know, it doesn’t matter.

Poet’s note –
“If it’s reality you want, I suggest you look out the window.”― Peter Stamm, All Days Are Night

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 2.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Swapna Joy

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
I value friendship a lot. True friends are family to me.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

3 Comments on "Windows"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest

‘Nice’ take on windows.

ammu sachariah

Beautiful poem. If we look out side through our windows , we can see many sight s which we never cared. You portrayed it beautifully.


A beautiful thought, and an interesting one at that! Keep writing!



Windows short poem

Sky wept when you hanged the young truth from a tree. A shadow falls on the hill for a savior. A winged flaw becomes a legend for the sake of a sword. A nameless letter betrays the will of a


Windows prose poem

(1) Tents are crowded by windows, but missing walls and a jasmine flower. (2) A window is a border between consciousness and sub-consciousness, between Ego and its annihilation. (3) A home without a window is a blind man with no

windows Of Innocence

windows Of Innocence short poem

“Innocence looks through a window of crystal clear glass, there is no reflection, just perfect vision of clarity….. For it is through the eyes of a child that truth is captured, no shadows of grey…just pure simplicity. A child’s soul

Walking By Windows

Walking By Windows long poem

The vagabond was once again on the window, Begging love and asking to open the gate, And the fairy inside the house reluctant, Said helpless she was being slave of the fate, First you peep in the four windows, Starting