I am a college student with enormous energy to talk and act. I was in class three when I first wrote a story although it lacked traces of reality. It consisted of my imagination and rhymes. My parents were oblivious to the fact that I can write poems and stories, as I am a very secretive person. It was during my 12th standard examination when one of the invigilators found me of my scribbling on my question paper, a piece pertaining to the incidents of the Examination Hall. Since it consisted of blatant, ugly truths of the prevailing scenario of the Hall, I was reported to the Principal and my parents were summoned. That was how for the first time my parents came to know that I have a knack towards writing. I was censured, but simultaneously the externals did pat my back. And that's where I was propagated to take my writing seriously. It was my seat of Inception to Revelation of my Being through poems. It was an inexpressible feeling where I was chided as well as praised by my Principal Sir. This is why I kept on writing what ever popped up in my mind and penned down my thoughts about my family, nature, parents, feelings and even animals. I am not a poet by birth but I am a poet by situation. I love to write poems as they are my best means of expression and my pen is my best comrade.
The snow fell quietly on the little hill with the softness of swan feathers, blanketing the ground around the tiny log cabin. Wispy drifts cascaded down the roof and gathered around the windowsills as if to cradle the tiny abode
The peaceful night The stars and the moon The wind sea The stargazing.. How lovely is it? Away from busy city,people and noise. Only you and nature. You feel peace in heart. Peace in mind. Deep inside we all long
Dead ones speak Martyr speaks More loudly than before With Echos every corner How fortunate they Treading path of Martyrdom Martyrdom to peace Harmony & Justice But- Shooters of martyrs Build society of hatred And martyrs crucified Generation after generation
Be with me in this zone of pain. My poems was walking through me. The flute I broke, in the river of silence. Someone was whispering to me in sleep. Why this desire of awakening in darkness, when light was