“Oh lord my eyes dried by warmth of regret “ “Pouring rain angainst by seeing ground and pebbles strain effect “ “I got aspirations too high “ “Torture ache is sharp as dagger mordant in nerves feel die” “Feelings cannot be quash from core” “Oh lord friends finally gone” “Now no one’s left to call” “ Nobody hears silent tears fall “ “But I prepared for this tough stage “ Oh god I will tried to laugh quit the gloomy cage “
About AuthorAuthor of this book is Rishamjot . K sangha. She completed her Bachelors of (Hons) school in English After that now she is Persuing MBA(hr ) she was born on 4 august in zaildar family. She published her poems in international journals , magazines and in other literary site's. She got many prizes in recreational activities and also published her book in German 2016 .writing poetry is her passion which is considered to be a for aged people who are aged experience of life and she is 23 years old want to putting name of india Punjab on world map. .she has biggest loss in her life when she was 6 months old her father expired.The poet got inspiration from his grandfather. Who was journalist and published books , articles magazines (The punjabi guardian) in England . He completed his Masters in (Philosophy).He was psychologist. According to her Writing poetry is hard But reading it is worse I’ve shared what poetry means to me. It’s helped me deal with anger, frustration, heartbreak, headache, hopelessness, isolation, and more. It’s helped me be human. That’s the true value of poetry as far as I’m concerned. Everything else is icing. Poetry is like soul of any human.
We live in a world full of blindness, Everybody is looking, But yet lacking kindness, Ignorance has made us all crazy and mindless, Nobody willing to stand up Instead acting spineless, Evil has spread And started to become timeless, People
The once clean and pure waters of the ocean, Pure, What does that even mean? Where whales, dolphins, fish swam freely, With the course of nature and life. No interference by humans. The ocean is as beautiful as wild animals
Half-buried in a mud pit, a polluter bares all, body and soul. Hands bound, ready to be stoned to death. A god was going to kill a god. A dense judgement of planet green of an unreliable sun scribbling a
Every action of us stems from voice within Voice which don’t make sound but signals in lieu of sound Some actions appears hasty Some practical and Some may turn out to be awkward Life revolves round ones action Without action