I said I would dance only if he sings; And he insisted I kiss him – Only then would he sing; I moved closer, His smile widening with every step of mine; He held out his hand – And I went in his arms. He looked at me and smiled; I smiled and we kissed.. And through the kiss – His song filled up my senses; And I danced on the tune of his kiss.
Author of fiction books titled 'My Life story' and 'Is This Love & Autumn - The Last Leaf' and novel 'Resemblance - The Journey of a Doppelganger' I enjoy writing short stories on Relationships. I have attempted writing form poems like Haiku, Tanka, Cinquain, Acrostics etc but I most enjoy writing Prose poems where I get to express myself without the limitations of number of words or rhyming. Most of my writings depict human feelings and emotions, which I try to bring out onto the page and into the minds of the reader. I believe that essence of writing lies in not only entertaining the reader, but speaking to them through words. My style of writing makes it easier for the readers to visualize the story unfolding around them. I am of the opinion that being good at writing a story is not about the story being unpredictable, it is about the way you narrate the predictable story and still keep the reader interested.I blog at Straight From The Heart (http://www.artihonrao.net). I am an administrator and web-designer at Writer's Ezine (http://www.writersezine.com).My Profile page: http://www.artihonrao.in
The legato of language and lingo, The dance of diction and dialect — Have you ever considered the difference A little letter or two can effect? Texture of tense, Savor of sense, The nuance in a sentence — What’s really
Meet Zask and Zisk, See them venture forth — They know little About the destination, Only that it’s an energy station On a big blue world Known to locals as Earth. “Look at that!” Exclaims Zask, “We are in luck
The very essence of love is uncertain, A relentless thumping of the heart. I must speak to you by such means as they are within my reach. He pierces my soul driving me into madness. I am half agony, half
The moon awaits eagerly in the same pedestal it ignited my passion. What lips, my lips have kissed, are long forgotten. The memories easily quickened as a few puddles along the way I voluntarily stepped in. What arms have lain