Here it is, and again I have to go through my death Returning back from a future, the girl is a woman now And again I have metamorphosed myself Into an unexposed solitude
The woman who was a girl the previous night Beckons me, a dying star, for a moment of warmth In my death I don’t want to be part of a masked album Where, like a rose, her lips would be singing a secret music
In my world my silence and my solitude marry And she is a language replenished with sacred fire Any fire is not going to consume me, though As a meteorite I have to go through death again, tonight
What would happen on the day When death tinkers in your life This thought might recoil once It turns a ‘men’ into ‘corpse’ I soliloquy kith will pretending of regret by flowing false tears Several examine you by discussing your
About the book: This is a selection of poetry about solitude and other obsessions that have distracted, driven, destroyed and / or defined us. Spanning genres, styles, emotions, time & place, these works by a collective of 5 poets are
A descent into the abyss of hell, as the petal of a flower takes flight into the sky above, where the angels govern mortal men, keeping a watchful eye on their sheep. summer night solitude, and a prayer to the
This life has snubbed the bloom like a thick brown sac thrown on the sod. An octogenarian tries to slice the hope indulgingly to achieve immortality! Was it a virile snarl? A rose bud wrenched open in a fatherless home.