I love to write with an Ink pen But my Ink is not an ordinary one With colors like blue, red or green I have an ink pot full of tears Whenever my pen dries I fill it up with my tears This ink-pot never gets empty No matter how much I write As there can be a day when I could not write But there has not been a single day When I have not filled The ink-pot with my tears My poems and my thoughts Have been written in the papers or pads But who is there who can Read the ink of tears? Who is there whose hands Also wet by my tears In effort of reading them When people see my poems They think They are empty paper Every time I show them these papers Every time they laughed at me They envisaged that I am making a joke But none could ever guess It was never an empty paper It was or has been a written paper Or I fervently hope that It will be a written paper With tear’s eyes.
Lokendra Singh hails from holy city Ajmer. He is, an aspiring writer and a poet, a postgraduate in English Literature and a central Government employee, a spiritual seeker and an ardent reader, currently based in Lucknow. He had been in Bangalore from 2009 to 2014. He loves reading novels of Amitav Ghosh, Jhumpa Lahiri, Mahesh Dattani, Girish Karnad, and Manju Kapur and his favorite poets are Sri Aurobindo, Rabindra Nath Tagore, Swami Vivekananda, John Keats, William Wordsworth, A.K. Ramanujan, Arundhati Subramaniam, Tishani Doshi and Chandrama Deshmukh. He was inspired by poetess Arundhati Subramaniam to write a poetry. His poems and write-ups also published in several print and online publications, including websites like WWW.POEMHUNTER.COM, WWW.POETRYSOUP.COM, WWW.FORWARDPOETRY.CO.UK and magazines like Inspiration Unlimited" and "Nachiketanjali". One is the number one inspirational magazine and another is one among the top twenty spiritual magazine of India, according to speaking tree. Besides that he is having a personal blog- www.svlokendrasingh.blogspot.com and also writes blogs in speaking tree. He has done his schooling from an Arya Samaj school- Dayananda Bal Niketan Sr. Sec. School, Ajmer. His father's name is Ranveer Singh, who is a government employee in Agricultural department and his mother Prem Kanwar is a homemaker. His mother has a wonderful talent of composing devotional songs. His brother is Yogendra Singh, who is an aspiring entrepreneur, a writer, a mind trainer, a yoga practitioner and a memory guru. He also has a best selling book entitled 'Awaken The Great Potential Of Memory And Will Power' to his credit. He is a prolific writer. Her Sister Kusum Rathore presently lives in Oman. He loves his family a lot. He gets support from his family aw well for writing. He wed locked with Poonam Shekhawat on 08, May,2014. She is also a postgraduate in English Literature. She is also a blog-writer. Her Blog is- www.poonamshekhawat.blogspot.com and www.poonamdakshina.blogspot.com. She also inspires his husband to write a poetry. She also helps him in editing and rewording his poems and write-ups.
I’m alone in my room Wondering where I went wrong Mind is cloudy My thoughts are uncontrollable But who can you call When the depression hits And the pink pills cant drown your sorrows away No One I’m alone in
Like a snowfox it stampedes. A mass panic of legs after the flame festival. Language moves like a landslide, without vocabulary. A love sperm will not go into the test tube. Baby was waiting, looking for mother. The wetland was
A golden bullet will bite the adolescence for the sake of prudence. Inebriated everybody wanted to go in a state of bliss. It was a targeted killing of a dream. Redolent of a prophet who will not answer the call
Like a double edged knife That cuts deep and rife Like a cold winter breeze That makes everything freeze Like the sting of a bee Excruciating it would be Like a hot summer heat Unbearable it could be Like an
Behind your face was cleaver releasing past poem. The sensual milk flows from the palm into your lake. Grieving for the torn wings of pink light. Cruising on thighs with eyes closed death utters a shriek. The eternal flame closes