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.
A meaningless void, Festering inside of me… An uncontrollable urge, That no one can see… It brings me down, binding me in chains… Though it seems unreal, But it hurts and it pains…!! Loneliness remains my friend, Though I want
Pander to the broken once more shall you see, the changes made, Above the mighty Stereo Surrendering, only to ignite streams to pour From the fountain of the Infinite Well. Oh! allow such splendor to splash upon a page Aplomb!
Nothing more to do or see I’ve seen it all The sudden rise The tragic fall… A better life Supposedly awaits. Why not end this then? An honorable goodbye Rather than a bland farewell. Let’s celebrate one last time Bring
Footsteps formed on the bleached evening ground, created side by side, slowly born to the nothingness of the evening, manifested to the midnight blue. No one watched, no one knew, the overwhelming power that pulled them to life, together, on
On a glowing morning day, By a meadowy, misty bay. Walked to the sea shore, Stumbling along those on my way. There roamed many incognito, Yet bearing a semblance familiar. A déjà –vu of coming across, A pair of knowing
Remembrances… A wild laugh, needling rain, choked breath, flashes of pain. Memories slumber, dreams drain! A past I hold, tied to my back. A heavy bulging, under the skin, sack I walk past the stories, of flowers and song A
Moonlight streaks, Empty streets, Lonely hearts, Miles apart. Tender strokes, Memories touched, Love – lust, All gone to dust . Bare face , Deep eyes, Empty chairs, Lifeless smiles. Heartache, Heartbreak, Momentary unrest, Light stroke. Golden glow, Emotions flow, Take
It keeps raining everything has become damp, I can feel the mist inside my head. Wooden doors don’t close anymore, windows don’t shut to keep the water out, I feel like drowning in this flood, and it keeps raining still….
Like a fallen angel am I Unloved and unwanted Distressed and disturbed of heart Unable to die and too pained to live. I exist like the walking dead In the realm of the living Waiting for that elusive grace For
Words Stick to my hands, cling to my fingers, hide under my elbow. A trembling poem loses its grip and drops on the sheet. Petrified! Alphabets behave funny these days. Like a mute child with an unbearable stomach-ache. Baffled phrases
Another evening with hues of red merging into blue, blue morphing into grey, Grey turning black marred with tiny specks of silver I sit and watch this metamorphosis my eyes lusting for a streak of silver; a falling star –
One man against A mountain— Steep And, inhospitable! A man called Nelson Mandela— And, a mountain called The Pretoria regime! He was determined Like the proverbial spider… He was not one To give up! His crusade against Injustice Landed him
In this part of the story, I will be the poet, and you my muse. I’ll draw my inspiration from Your chestnut brown lips, Your curved mustache And lustful eyes. I’ll float my words around you, Scratch them out and
( Dolly was a Lhasa Apso who lived amongst us for close to 15 years. She passed away in 2002) Here lies Dolly. Alias Dollykins, alias Rani, alias Master Yoda, Alias Shaithan, alias Devil dog, alias Gremlin dog A unique
Will the ghosts ever lie down and rest they rose from the anguish of the soul in an instant of morbid pain and they have kept him haunted. He walks like a zombie trying to escape the wrath they inflict
My room, My refuge An inspirer, a pacifier A companion in all my moods A critic, a counselor For all I do and seek A haven during troubled times A fortress for my soul to keep It holds my pleasures and
The falling rains, the blowing wind The call of mountains, The songs of river, The chanting of bells, The joy of spring Are indeed sweet, Alas; but not – as sweet Sweet as you are The dreams which drive, The
I see no change In age.. For some years that were before, Childhood days were happy, Young age was to make merry. There was the sky and heaven, I was roaming as Romeo even. Then came established life; there was
Wrath hammers down Crushing My reflection bursts into flames Leaping Scorching liquid glass into my bloodstream. Blood coagulates into mercury droplets Reaching the floor Rolling Out into infinity Space is the absence of thing-ness into that space, where no one
The hills around me stand silent, Veiled in the darkness Of a sombre, bitter-chill winter night, As though mourning for a beloved long gone The cold winds blow from across the sea Over the peaks, thru’ the valleys and the
In the midst of my dreams , I saw a desire floating by, It stretched its hands, Beckoning me to rescue it, But, I moved on indifferent. Time passed and I dreamt another dream, Another desire begged to me, I
It started with us the two of us, involving everyone around us, We dream to share the love within We dare to become one, keeping in mind each others priorities first, We wish to live with the spirit and guide
In this endless route called life Where ‘m walking day or night Every moment – every sigh My wanderer soul, asks how and why Where is that place, where I could find thy? I searched for him in temples and