Durga Poems

They were fated to face that minor road mishap The vehicle got tripped due to use of sudden brake It was August 1997, when my parents traveled by that cab Ignoring evil Oman earlier, my father left home without shake

At the END OF THIS AUTUMN, I am standing Under a barren tree, bleak and exposed TO weather with shedding leaves, There rests a house away from the barn, Decorated with vivid colours of rainbow And maintained by careful hearts

These voices in my head they haunt me And taunt me They tell lies To try and tie my emotions down My selfishness tries to get the better of me but I can’t let that be Was sick of people

No snacking on French Fries , but work for healthy weight and size. Get cracking on your workout , and stretch before you run out . A jog might sound like suicide when you’re as big as me. Take heart!

Her clothes had come to represent imperfection: the moment came on the night and in the way she’d imagined but with much more friction. sitting on the steps with April’s cold needling her bottom she tried to shift her sweater

Expressions stifled by futile ambiguity; banal faces crushed by oppression. truth blind and no scent of levity; sleep while in cold repression. wake to the noise of longevity; time smiles on and on in suppression. bright colours to shift loyalty;

Dear moon, please bring these thoughts to where she is, She yearns moonbeams when coming from your face, Please bounce to her when I would blow a kiss Across the sea, there to her flowered place; Do you tire of

Your insistence to become something, to overstay existence was not fair. On a row of white shrouds – holding innocent beings, death was walking barefoot, crying. Between farewell and stupidity, staccato, shooting questions to life. What was the need for

What implorations do they trace? These crooked legs in convulsion These crawly things in deathly grace What feeling evoke, what compulsion? The crushed mass on concrete floor In pasty death mocks my wisdom Should I act, or do I ignore

None wants to face negative thoughts every one aspires for positive thoughts When situation of distress arises none rise to face the challenge every one curses their fate but can’t accept the challenge Courage emits when one is prepared to

I am euphoric, I am analgesic, I am your friend. I will make you feel better; I will change your life. I am extracted from the from the opium of a scarlet red poppy. I can give you a sense

All the pain inside me is enough to break a life But I am still going strong – not giving up the fight. I do believe in power of love. He will give us the light from above. That brings

It’s been 20 Years since I first picked up my plume to pen a few poems. It’s gone by extremely fast Like a spaceship off to Mars It’s been an interesting journey, a loving joyful one Unexpected extravangances belied purest

Your mane frolics, As wind rushes by, With hooves of wonder, As if it were to fly. Behold! A Beauty so, Equine! And a Beauty so, Divine! O’er the lush green, Under the brilliant skies, Through the hollow woods, Thy

I loved the way you kissed me Remember, You were awake the whole night just to see me dream. I can still feel your tear on my lip; the one you wiped when you thought you would lose me You

When moon was found on water sky came down with unclenched fist, too proud to accept the defeat. Footprints of a giant will not leave the broken landscape, of the virgin garden where roses died in a row in storm.

Rhythm and Rhyme reach the Listener. Put him behind bars and begin to beat. Thoughts of escape, a tortured prisoner, he resists and is met by quick defeat. Possessed by Flow, with no exorcism, he is stabbed with a double

I touched you tonight For the first time In so long. I touched you so lightly in my mind Then you were gone. For hours I stared at you. Those old feelings Overwhelming again. My eyes consumed you, And started

JUST BECAUSE WE’RE OVER Doesn’t mean we still can’t Be friends, JUST BECAUSE WE’RE OVER doesn’t mean We can’t still get together And have some fun every Now and then… After all the years we shared Together it would be

Keep a smile and carry on, Every day is a mystery, never known. A new day, a new light, That’s the only way to feel alive. A day to rise, a day to fall, A day to learn, a day

The most primal of seasons First baby-breaths of spring Creation without reason A holy art of being Earth’s neolithic easter Without woe or restraint The forests ooze, the bees stir Irrepressibly make The oldest and most reverend Yet most wanton

The heart a magnificent work of art, amazing in its design, if you follow it you will shine, cause it’s for much more than pumping blood it carries very real feeling of sympathy and love. It also has compassion in

What might we say when the gears grate fitfully upon the uncertain gravel, earth spewing emptiness covered in grit upon the violets delicate, that keep smiling nevertheless? A curse struggles with a sigh and neither wins, defeated Being still morning

When you stretch your body with wind those moments I feel thrilling and zestful a serene and tranquil heaven for me and for your thirsty lovers it is restful Sharing your smile with galaxy of stars you are so delectable

Fine is the wine drops from your lips; To dance and to sing, I hold your hips; Sugary bread we eat is from your oven, An angel appeared now she is from heaven. Knowing nothing new on loving trends, Forget

Everybody has a story, ’tis writ in every face the lines etched, deep as the wrinkles of age.. . Everybody has a story, be it early or late, a life being lived has a tale to relate.. . Everybody has

Body sat at desk, Huddled over a book. Eyes fixated on the page in front of you Finger twirling through your hair. The same eyes that often wander my body, Hands that get tangled in my skin. I watch the

In the forest the summer steam retreats Confusion breaks like a fever, sudden Relief flooding the mind with quiet murmurs A symphony of whispers cover the screams And tears evaporate as the cry dies on your lips The shadows listen

And it’s far to say that I’m okay Yet it’s bad to say I am not okay In the end I am floating in the middle again The smile gets my blood rushing through my vein And the pain reaches

City lights so bright Alluring, fascinating sight Like earthly stars from afar A far away kingdom beyond par City buildings so tall Their peaks cannot be seen at all Grand cold concrete structures Stand aloof as if part of nature

I started to write about Love Thought I’d found that special One It’s been a week since we first met Now I write about my heart bereft I knew from the start, this wasn’t meant to be So many reasons

Love is blind, one of its kind…. You go searching for everything and nothing will you find…. You will be left all alone and the world will keep you behind…. It will make you cry and weep and no one

Not all instincts lead to what one loves especially in the matters of the present. For when terrible becomes synonymous with beautiful, the tragedy of control educates the child within of what the grown up situation has not. Call it

It’s a tale of the daughter of India! A tale of a young girl so pale Being brutally raped and killed by a ferocious male. She began her day with a fine sunshine, And ended her day with an inhuman

Go sleep, where I entombed thee don’t wake up and walk haunting everyone you come across.. Go lie down in that beautiful coffin don’t stray and seek anymore you are dead now and dead are not supposed to walk.. You

A dream what is that exactly, a reason to live, love, laugh, follow your heart. His heart, her heart, your heart, my heart, their hearts even our own hearts, from that first newborn smack on our baby bottoms, to wail

A spoonful of sugar melts into his tea And how perfectly made they are My nurturing soul is utterly satisfied While his lungs let go of the tar “If that balloon pops, I shall cry I already feel just like

In the steadiest motion few dainty butterflies Rose in the air, gave your eyes a big surprise You, enchanted, rubbed your hands to prepare For the hunt, your clever preys were but unaware Of the plans that in your cunning

Please allow me to introduce myself simply as The Apple Tree supposedly in the Garden of Eden. I do not know why, but for the longest time, it has been assumed that I was in the Garden of Eden. I’ve

The stadium goes dark and a hush falls- you can hear a pin drop; The sounds of pins dropping, Maybe it’s the patter of raindrops Or is it running feet- Oh, the anticipation! It’s a drumroll for the artist, As