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

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

Some believe God to be a broker, Who fulfills desires on demand, But I know him to be a smoker, With a lit cigarette in his hand. We are nothing but ash and fire, A byproduct of his bad habit,

In the budding days of youth In the spring time of growing mind While dreaming of being a Woman I loved a Man Question do I pose myself Why did I love him? Thousand times answer echoes It was his

Let no gust of wind, Seize the passion from your heart. Let no whirlpool, Sink the rowing boat of your moving life. Let no draught, Dwindle the endeavouring hands of your to work. Let no burning flames, Instigate you to

The dream of water, in a spiritual awakening… And the journey of Pisces through the astro sea in the shadow of Neptune. The travels of Apollo in the company of Horos and Aphrodite persuaded by the great and terrible creature

Untamed self control my own worst enemy I can be I can not be the poison and the remedy The voices I hear are not in my head I hear the words as if they’ve been said. Horrific thoughts I

Drop by drop they scatter on ground With a melancholy sound to cherish in time Flowers with drops falling to their fine textures Stood drenched aside with tapering stems The rain showers nurturing their roots of growth Been a life

He rode into town on his horse. Spurs digging into A soft dull gray,  hooves echoing against the ground. His eyes met with a certain lass. Joyful at heart. His eyes tried her on, alone with limitless possibility. He thought

I watch the seagulls fly shouting your name, Should in your isle, you walk along the brine, Would you fancy to play this childish game, To hear bird cries to sound like name of mine? The moon reminds me of

“O you woman! Why do you after all submit To who that ever hurts and hits, Causes you only sufferings Distresses are his offerings. And gives you nothing Except tongue-lashes And choicest accusations? What after all do you get From

I know it’s easier to catch a breeze or two, once we have been around the bend We should take the time to watch the leaves among the trees every now and then We should take a moment to smell

Just an observation, To the moment close by; Your eyes sneaking out of window, But mine are stuck to thy. A strange feeling, Afraid, don’t know how to make a move; Waiting to get a glimpse of your Ming, Just

cracking bones in the kitchen use the heavy knife swallows on the lawn want inside paint the hand-tied rug with fleet shadows you’ve used up all the hot water old iron bathtub ringing like a gong this tone your elbow,

when I fell in love I pressed my heels against the sky as if in a bread oven sitting with my forehead on the warm ground and the wind and the butterflies and the clouds like smoke were hard to

What happened to us when we were young When I was scared about to go to war And leave the warmth of kin and home For battlefields far flung and stain the dirt Beneath my boots with blood and gore?

Oh come bird and sing upon the Willow tree, a note of your little hearts well being. To a host of wild flowers, in colors of a rainbow queen! Walk on the soft green grass, for joy in heart it

In the comfort of my room I sit and scribble all the sundry and sometimes seriously on varieties of topic I build my own world of poetry and assume I am the master of philosophy of life and have solution

Come, I will take you through the ocean, if you can, just measure the depth of my love. Come, I will take you in the shower of rain, if you can, just measure my tears and pain. Come, I will

I know not when I have to quit But I do know I have to quit Life looks so rosy in spite of me often experiencing the thorn Every morning when I get up I feel I am born afresh

Looked at the outside of steel window Around in the dark, awesome feelings into the mid-night air What the news was brought in the feelings! Eyes of the orphan cat was flaming on the corridor. Waiting for the light in

Hurt, broken and lied to, Just the way this world goes… How selfish people have become, Their actions alone shows… There might be a handful, Kind, caring and nice… But the pressure being intense, ‘Goodness’ pays its price… But still

Sweat flowed like river in the scorching Son The dried up tongue thirsting for water The dirty body begging for water to bathe Uncooked food waiting for water Cries of people for water rent the air People begged the rain

When the sun did yawn & the woods did bark; that cold wintry dawn I was up with the lark. Up for a stroll through the park; Like ghosts patrol in the dark. Felt that eerie cold blast as winter

Warm eyes look at the blue sea I am the clouds of idealism Waiting for the green spring Flowers in the wind A widow cries Age is the myth of denial I am younger than time Your hand is snow

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