Doorstep Poems

I stand at my doorstep, Eyes straining on the very path you walked by… I wait to hear those footsteps retreating, back to me, you in my arms again… I shut the door, sighing. I then hear a soft knock;

It’s those sultry days that sooth my soul, In the searing heat, empty like after birth we would bath, Fear of appearing odd, the taste of the sweet waters, Oblivious of each other’s different destiny, Our foggy minds leading the

A sparkling path was chosen by one, providing mature wines for the cultured, elegant polished restaurants, operas of critical acclaim, endless parties for the ordained elite, cars which navigated and spoke, manicured sprawling homes, and… Shoes… closets and closets of

Our father left us while we were young We could not clean our own stable And we did not know how to But we knew how to protect our color. Our mother separated us for the reason You had to

If you find no poem on your doorstep in the morning, no paper, no knock on your door, your life poorly edited but no broken dashes or injured meter- If you do not wear white satin dresses late in life

Do you deem it courage? Or is it a kind of outrage Sparking off the blood-hued flares Igniting all particles of wrath present in the air Curses etched on the strips of little paper Nailed into the cloth flesh of

Running punctuality and just enough, under loyalty, The way the northern winds blew my skirts was seen by a youthful sun, mouthing expletives, It was under that noon, I met thee. Racing against cold blankets from afar, and fighting cocooned

Confused , lost , bloodshot eyes , A wanderer insomniac driven premise , Supreme anxiety , thumping palpitations, Pointless life dictated inhibitions , I Came at your doorstep, A depressed human being , A lifeless soul, Devoid of objectives ,

I walk down the bridge Whispering to my restless mind About your last night’s talk And those unfeeling hands of innocence The night eglantine smiles In its usual way At my timid inexpressive desire And the love filled eyes of

This is the road that leads to my father’s home It is old and dusty with bullock-carts creaking, Carrying the heavy weight of the freshly cut sugar-cane To the mills nearby for our sugar laden tables, Piled in our court-yards

One summer’s eve in Spain, I fled through an open window, Butterflies aflight In the very pit of me, And I tramped the streets, My heart abrim With such a love, But a love now long gone. With my final

Poems are reveries that call you by name. Like all true loves they arrive in spite of who you are, at your doorstep. Nothing needs to be done except to stay with your longing. They are miracles of compassion; they

In the arms of love, A beautiful untold story A loud silence that broke every barrier, The askance of the heart and its myriad worry Sojourning the barren mirth to make life merrier. Love’s wings summoned the romantist from Canada

He sat on the floor of his old room, his back Against the wall – everything was gone And the room said nothing though it had heard everything He’d ever said or thought, declared or mumbled under his breath The

It was afternoon hot on summer mid And the sky was blazing with unspeakable boiling, But still was graced with pound of clouds Which bore timid promises to overcome the summer damages. Then it was coming of rain like an

though moo cho yars older, i (bovine cuddly name = hay4four at aol dot com), could feign 2b a frat house bro by undergoing a facial augmentation – despite lacking dough unlike the multimillionaires here in lower merion, where a

Roses are red and violets are blue, I’ve run out of violets, for the violets were you. Since the roses turned black the flowers have died, You left me on my doorstep, you saw that I cried. But lilies turn

When the bloodshed starts at the doorstep of solemn silence, give me a lone engagement with the invisible to unchain the split heart. I will take away the pain from home and come back in failing light when a star

Wish I would talk less and work more I would rather hurt myself than hurting him I could feel elated at his success rather than mine I would have spared a meal or two to him rather than wasting mine

Making promises is his habit Violating is his nature Traits make one like him Why then the feelings capture. Recoiling of impatient intestines Swings of heart, jumps of spirits Chest throbbing with impatience Is the specific poser that hurts? For

“Today at work”, she says, “My boss went berserk” Has all the luxuries of the world, Except if you see closely, she has no one. Beautiful and intelligent she is for sure, but Rumours tell me she was never chosen

I wake up to cobble stone steps, And the smell of decadent crepes! Next thing I know, I’m sipping Chardonnay, While the harmonica in the background, plays. I’m cycling through fields of sun-kissed vines, With picturesque views, I’m cheerily entwined.

That fugitive dream of shrinkage: a room in a room a door in a door. You were hurting the house affairs at midnight. The space accident starts dismanteling the life. Selective pain comes again. You start distancing from story touch,

A girl innocent and young Beautiful and fun Full of faith when she sung And eyes as bright as the sun Love waved with a smile From a long long mile Slowly came very near And assured nothing to fear

An ordinary lass, Rolled on the grass! Suddenly she glanced, Upon the blue vast! She wished hard, To gauge it in a yard! But oh! her wishful thought, Brought her what she never ought! Luck besieged her, Life to her

Aim to be the Master of Life. Heaven never waits; let’s take this today, before it’s gone like yesterday Every generation gets the grief, sure do we all; But the Master is he who doesn’t feel perplexed at all. One,

Her touch has such softness I’m bound to miss, Light as a feather blown upon my face, To lay like lips with tenderest of kiss, That memory will always bear the trace; As stars of thousand longings are her eyes,

“I AM GOD’S CREATION – A SOUL” Can anyone tell, “Who am I?” What am I doing on this Mother Earth? I wish, someone could answer this question of mine! Can anyone tell, “where did I spring from?” And for

The old tree, tall against the sky – It’s still there, black, gnarled and lonely. The small laughing children I knew – Are somewhere, older, changed. You and me. facing tomorrow and memory. Where are we? As old April, an

She looks into the crystal clear surface of the mirror An exhausted girl stares back with bland brown peepers The delicate carmine threads interlace with terror As she discovers she has become plumper The cellulite bumping up beneath like little

It’s too incredible but it exists existed long before our kind I like to imagine the first people to see this and those who decided to stay and explore generations and generations moving down from the rim and living surrounded

The wind’s flaming sword cut through the brazen land, grasses along its wrath are flared, and seeds for the songbird fell flat on the ground, temperature’s tune seems amplified, 360 degrees around: Baked clod. And the stems turn into dried

try me if you please as you are out spreading the disease plagued by thoughts of granduer with affectionate melancholy sparkling array of blissful care through the air my very soul permeates a reason for being amidst the changing of

Well and there is a LOST SEA Somewhere running through The crystal caverns down and Around the foot hills of the Appalachian Mountains… I remember some kind of strange Indian folklore from many lifetimes Lived before, you look into my

The storm shall surrender and harmony would prevail Shackles of the mind Would break free! Shadows of the past Fade away for better Lost memories.. Engulf newer moments Shattered dreams Lighting up future streams One fine day The day of

The two strangers met each other to mingle and lead rest of their life all together The two in course of time were to become three The two dreamt of a baby boy but were disappointed when they found it

You know I hear a few voices in my head They call me by my name They want me dead I should feel ashamed they said But I didn’t listen to them I had you as a friend Hearing them

Today I will shed my body and meet you halfway at watery address. My eyes were not blinking to hold the clouds. To live or not to live was a great pain. Two small hands and two bubbling eyes glued

Again the Sorrow Coming like a crawling thief. By stealing joy and all what was the dearest It leaves me in the hollowness of grey No sun, no stars and neither blue, blue sky I don’t see anything, and I

Your love is so difficult to read from behind these slits for eyes Your love is so very painful that I couldn’t imagine your hate My kindness is met with curses they dig into me deep, but I dare not

There’s a battle for your mind but you say it’s just fine pulling a 9 to your head it’s the walking dead Not since the day of creation did we stand with ovation A seed was drop from a farmers