Chatting Poems

Would it be okay if I sat here for a while, Maybe we could contemplate together, Others may not notice but I can see your smile, Its sincerity has changed just like the weather. I know you do not know

Time ticks away, Questions pour in Answers flow as crashing waves Against solid rocks The mute sky looks indifferent Is the era of clues over? Smilingly I pretend ease Watching, listening, chatting animatedly One eye on the clock Rhyming with

The wind, sitting on the branch Of the tamarind tree And chatting with the leaves, Was my enemy. When I get fire For the tip of pen In my writing room, He would encroach Through the bars of the window…

In the heavenly abode of dense tropics , lies mighty Ashoka, medicinal Neem and ancient Banyan recounting tales of bygone era , mingling with smiling primrose , naughty berries , listening to roaring lion , chatting cuckoo, all living together

A sea of faces filtering in like a wave of humans causing movement. Noisily chatting about life, with no sense or purpose. Having no insight to gain an education nor goals in life. Journey in this path turned completely unpredictable

Today I realised how lucky I am, So many things we don’t understand, I seen the sad cold look in their eyes, The fact we cared was such a surprise. Some in hostels, some plain to see, The streets were

Heading to the city in a cab, I take a backseat and wave goodbye To my people, to my town I say – wait for my call, wait for my mail When back, I may tell you a tall tale.

If only I had a döppelgänger, I’d peacefully live my life of languor, Entirely at my own sedated pace, For me he’d run with rats of human race. Then, entirely at my own leisure, I could entertain my simple pleasures

Sometimes I would think what life be without ink how to express the sorrow or how to say there is a better tomorrow how will we say worry not I am there or do not give up I am here

I’ve heard that plants need the sun, else they shrivel and they die; but I saw a sapling under a bridge, through the other side of pane. It seemed like it were surviving, maybe even managing a bit of thriving;

…So, I asked: what is beauty? He said: it is the impossible becoming real; or It is the kohl of a string on the forefingers of a guitar player; It is the explosion of astonishment on a beautiful lady’s waist;

you have to make friends with the dogs in daytime and at night come to them with the scent of your own hair on your hands the scent of a burnt out match they would like to be fed, but

Wish I could edit life’s errors. Retrace my steps, reclaim All I lost, gave up on. I’d give my present knowledge To my younger self. Carry my youthful vigor for life, hold unto my experiences. My second thoughts I’d make

Every time i look at the stars and enjoy its sparkle I wish you would be near me and hold me close and tickle. Every time i see a lovely couple standing by I wish you would be next to

I put my love for you Into words, Words cleverly disguised To look as if mine, Every time I catch a new Emotion, I put it down, Write and rewrite Edit and re-edit, I have done all that, That is

I don’t belong here I’ve known for some time So I’ve lived This isolated life of mine An outsider In an alien world From my true home I have somehow been hurled A life long loner Watching from my fortress

Please don’t stop me, my love, let me lie down and kiss the ground, let me taste the taste of freedom on my tongue and remember my past no more. Let my tears mingle with the sand and the sun

For me there is no crime so monstrous than rape, I wonder what sort of society we plan to shape. The victim feels detained in a prison with no hope to escape, I wish that these crimes be noted on

When I was just a kid Funny little things I did Things told to forbid You may call it misdeed One sunny day I so played Buried in the dust I strayed Homework postponed, I delayed Dad won’t be back

Can you really tell me who I am supposed to be? And why? Why must you feel the need to change who I am, will it change who we are, if I were to lose every star that currently lies

There was a time where one once told me There’ll be moment when you’ll be who you’ll be I didn’t know it then but I know it now That sometimes you have to choose between the good and the bad

Time gives And time takes. And where does it go, That what time Steals from us? Good Times Bad times. Us. Nobody knows. Are they lost to nothing? Are they somewhere else? Nobody knows. Doom? Salvation? Nobody knows. Those we

A rose sent down from heaven, mike told me to give it to you. – A rose to say I’m sorry, for the nightmare he put you through. – He said oh how he wishes, he could tell you all

We all have flaws, Those flaws were part of our life, We just have to accept it. We have to change it. If they judge you, Criticize you, Accept it. Then, learn from your mistakes. If your father disowns you,

Her eyes narrate huge stories every time, I try to hear them, Measure the weight she drops on each word, Counting, the gulps after few. Her eye balls dance around, Like butterflies dancing in the ballroom, She hides violent storms

This was a raw thing. A paranoid template for AK-47 rifles. The homemade bombs were planted on the roadside. A very explosive blend of a fedayeen. You cannot take it anymore this jihad. In everyday life inside comes out in

The sunset blazes upon the vault This afternoon dies slowly forever The world is overfilled with weariness and fatigue Another episode of this life’s masquerade Comes to an end… The curtain falls… And beauteous Agnes Adoma The prima donna of

And there was history to map the terror. A neoplasm was arising suddenly in the aching skull. Chorus of wailing: the burning will not go. Clouds of dense smoke were mindless. All the centuries were smouldering in the hearts of

I stand naked At the window A rough wind Disarranges my hair Harsh sun rays Beat my bosom Into a merciless submission And I cringe at the touch Of your manipulative fingers My conscience Is like bad breath Reeking of

They always met at that restaurant you never saw full more waitresses than customers despite the good location the savory smell that reminded you of late fall lunch some kind of fry-up all the aunts and cousins threw together while

Forget nothing and dream of everything opening like a flower bud Turning memories into fantasy and reality but an if and why and could Smell the flowers scent and it reminds you of a woman of the wood It’s colour

When words are read, my heart you will hear I’m far away, but you will feel me near Every single word, it’s meant ……………………………..for you To smile when the heart cries, To fall but then again to rise, The reason

Voices in my head they don’t heed to me anymore have a life of their own and me as a slave critique everything I do fight over each small detail perspectives and bitter hurt and they keep it alive keep

I don’t like the sound of lies But I myself speak one or two With a poker face many times Hiding the truth through and through Still I preach honesty Like I am a saint and divine Pretending to stall

Wait, Wait.. Cynthia Lit up your lantern, Yet little more ..! Let me compose a line Just one and once Left conclude my rhyme – In the sacred hours of this night! Awake, Awake.. Darling, Amidst the time darkling, Stay

Exacerbating, falling in dust, searching the dead truths on pills of abandoned bodies of lies. The dawn brings out the trapped victims of transmigration from capricum to capricon. Then they commit a mass suicide around hymns to seduce the god

We have not got a lot of memories that are fond Do not share the norms of a family bond Lacking shared memories seen as fond Of times that we were happy for once Tied by blood, shared a home,

You built me up, favored by your light’s glow, To bask thereat, as world lies at my feet, I half believe my luck, the times that flow, Still sweet, even through nights of hale and sleet; Your tender touch, soft

Here in the eastern part of our world the sun rises early and we wake up late by evening we become dogs and our wives turns into lamp-posts every night we lose our sense to smell our way back home

Some say we live in a computer simulation. A simulation run by others further along. Our sentients is just as real as theirs. “I think therefore I am.” If this is true, what do we do? Some interesting possibilities could