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

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

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 ,

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

A very unusual day I met a stranger, Got down from car and turned around, Walked to me with eyes filled with sigh of relief and pleasure, His lips whispered slowly with comment Thank GOD! I am a stubborn lady

Lost Destination I peep through the window: they keep running with the mobiles humming warming up their frozen spirits till the last breath in them. They run every morning on the bank of the lake to be afar from the

Listen before I start the story I can’t be more heavenly than the heavens Or more angled than an angel I know I am just as vulnerable Than a vegetable more beastly Then a savage who couldn’t manage the damage

A Laborer’s Voice On 1st May I am a laborer just by birth And will die in the same way I know my duties in a hearth Hope does not come near to say I am also one of humans

I see some content to live their life unwell, I guess some have known no other way, We all have our stories, some we cannot tell, It doesn’t mean we don’t have much to say. I see some so passive,

If you were but to sate the fear of loneliness in my heart Would you let me drink the smile from your eyes? Would you stir the sleepiness in mine While I spend all the dark days Ignoring that particular

The day I’ve looked to for years is now my dreaded bitter end. Melancholy incarnate, I feel nothing, much to my chagrin. My mind a wall, nostalgia the flood. Bursting through upon the hour. Bittersweet memories of you. The wall

The flower that now captivates my heart, Become so fond of showing in my dreams, And oh, the sweet ruse that from there would start, Relates such dreamscapes of so lovely themes; Like fireworks that give memories their sheen, Excitement

This day of sixty fruitful weeks shadow pristine relics of bundled keepsakes adorned in obsolete gazettes of passing snow storms, puppy training and next door’s junk mail. Transition logs re-call six states, five military orders, four duty stations, six rusted

Your genome was climbing down. I hate to count the steps. Feathers hurt sometimes after the end of flying. How far was the moment of dust? You were still swimming in saline water. A collective guilt will pay the price.

The yellow beaked vultures were waiting. A cloth bag contains the bleached remains; his father. Impeccable gift unmasked. After the inferno, hydrants went dry. The guilt survives the dispossession, pondering over the black dew now covering the pink roses. The

I feel your warm hands on me An intense touch, cold and lifeless Your eyes say what should be Our hearts united in perfect oneness But the light’s slowly cleared the shadow And my reality’s a lie so hollow I’ve

I know your hurts, and I know the pain I gave them to you but it wasn’t in vain So that one day you’d freely give me your all And cry out “yes Lord?” When you heard the call I’ve

I’ll build an island. Away from the home where I was born. Away from the seas and oceans. Far to the galactic ridges of confer. Houses made up of lively lives. Where love is not lust But lust makes you

You were my second chance or so I thought I was fragile and scarred when we crossed paths Emerging from a Summer of anguish and regret you caught me off guard Love was not on my list of healing remedies

Temptation- Part One Its evening and I’ve finished my class. I run through stairs, pass by corridors, And brisk walk down the lane. A dancer swaying in the peak hour trance. I reach the station, no intention to miss the

Forever, the word digresses Carved in wood Underneath the painting, The sky is motionless, The trees by the lake, As a boy was taught, A wind too, or a spirit Of laughter, as Time clings on to The best of

Gripped in the smell of sweat, cat food, and ruin, handing out sandwiches under an overpass each hand-off like a shark strike, the homeless shuffle a variegated line discharging a sullen murmur, attention flitting everywhere, avoiding contact dull eyes, wide

This world has left you hurt, Your heart bruised and battered. Love was quickly taken away, like you never mattered. It’s hard to trust, it’s hard to love The anger and rage in you grew. To think back on all

Darling, You Are An Epic Of Romance Twinkling stars and moon hold their breath when in the blue sky you sing and dance you are so alluring and adorable woman that many epics can be written on romance I promise

I stared at the stars and wondered When will they knock on my door! And a stardust sprinkled cake will be served On my dinner table as a dessert And gardens of hope will bloom. Moon will say to the

I take your hand, So soft and clean. Future scars will warp like a band, Those pure eyes that haven’t seen. My hands, rough and red, From blood of past victims. My sinful limb strikes your head, Then I say:

I am a cliff offshore with rocky coat & soft core not so far off but spanned by deep sea neither special nor rare but made of dead debris Wish to inhabitate But the sea is inhibiting I’ll cobble to