As the name suggests, this genre comprises of poems that are short in length and use literary techniques such as meter, metaphor and rhyme. Short poems present the extravagant experiences, the long extensive thoughts in a shorter version. A piece of writing using beautiful or unusual language arranged in fixed lines that have a beat and often rhyme.
I lay in bed all morning Crippled with a yearning Turned to my left, then right Couldn’t find my love, nowhere in sight You hadn’t come over, you weren’t supposed to Yet I had this feeling, a sense; I could
Overcast and drab evening with ominous shroud dark Distant rumbling crackle akin to giant ignited spark Adding to swelling misery in my moments desolate Craving for little company to someone try and relate Swallowed up with solitude for sane sense
The path I once tread, seems parched, My favorite trees look bare, bereft of dense skin, The flowers on the trees, now just a colorless papery illusion, And the sky a blazing ugly yellow screen. What happened to my world,
You’ll leave. And I’ll try to ease the sudden stark emptiness with Hobbies, art, intellectual exercises, movies, new clothes, Flings, makeovers, muffins, brownies, ice cream, chocolate. And I’ll fail. Miserably. Just like Last time.
Oh mighty creator, please hear my breathless prayer, Before I enter the battle become a ruthless slayer, Thank you for keeping me good & alive, For being with me, helping me survive, In this cold harsh winter you have been
Unsullied pallid canvas propped on easel again To paint picture afresh sans any of nasty stain Imagery to be sanguine with cheery kind of feel All gray must dump now for new vibrant appeal A multicolored palette of vivid
Like a long forgotten melody wrapped in the mist of time bringing back all the memories good and bad alike you knocked at my door again and sent me reeling into the past long forgotten long lost, long left why
While dabbling in multitude a peculiarity stares in face Most of indulgent revelry is mislaid and out of place On probing deep recesses what really comes to fore All evident is make believe and hollow at deepest core Pretentious seems
All was silent before the appointed hour then there came a faint hint of light the light engulfed everything living and dead and then the sun rose like a yellow orb but it was all silent still except for the
Sitting by the riverside, As I ponder upon, The best times spent, How I wish those moments, Those endless talks, With the most amazing folks, Could be relived once again, Just as the river flows by, And the bush aside
Through the veil of love and care Innocence was taken to task Pleas fell on deaf ears Vampire thrived on tears An intentional infliction of pain Tears began pouring like rain With slander, abuses and rage The naive was kept
I am a child Standing on the vast sea shore Collecting sea shells to quench My curiosity I don’t know what an oyster is I know only the shells. The waves sweep high above my height The sea sometimes wails
Oh deep, dark depression, my uninvited guest, the persistence of oppression is precluding my life’s zest. The dark before sunrise of a dawn that just won’t break, suppressed by a thirst for my soul that only sorrow can now slake.
Mother India I travelled to you Three years back ‘Twas a moment’s spur Friends thought I’d gone whack Mother India Filled with uncertainty For what was in store Intrepid and curious I reached your belly at Bangalore Mother India With
A single word or phrase; a gesture Can trigger a feeling of wondrous rapture To be told that you’re worth more than the drifting sands That daily slip through your trembling hands To be surrounded by so many appreciative people
The interior with The stillness Neatness and Coldness Of a tax office Is as awesome and fearful As a cemetery at midnight Some unseen eerie presence Is all over spilling the space Of this cold chest One would be in
She lives in her own world, world that is beautiful still there are fairies in that world witches, goblins and godmothers too such is her world all around and she is the princess of all she is to be cherished
Most dabbled indulgences are not means to any end Attempts just plain perhaps for old afflictions to mend Each day breaks new dawn again onto the cyclical night Waited more than my share for reversal of chronic plight Weary of