Empty Poems

Trying to follow truth his journey was nightmarish. Alchemic fusion with past and future failed – his bowl was still empty. In the inner space a largesse, free of present, becomes the pain of perfection! Now what to do next?

The smoke rising from the depths of the night, Is filled with your memories still bright. The unknown souls that roam the solitary streets, My dreams are a part of their unending meets. That which lies buried under the concrete,

I miss you in the vacuum that was once you. In the stillness of a cemetry afternoon. In the dinner table, with an empty seat. In family photographs, now incomplete. In my husband-to-be, In the grandchildren you did not see.

When I awoke that fatal day I knew there was something amiss the agonizing striking pain doubled me over on the cold floor My eyes began to well with tears and gushed down like a rushing waterfall a cold eerie

As empty as light and as dense as darkness. We begin, we finish and know no end. In the woods, in the crowd we remain the same and we strive for the stars holding on the sands. The beauty that

His Life’s journey was devoid of any story Empty pages were his Life’s File The few worthy incidence in his life too got erased in the floods of his tears A Breezy wind knocked away his short rosy married life

Desk, empty because, you bullied her. Left her feeling worthless. Took all her courage, made everything seem hopeless. Never the one to ask. All she wanted was acceptance. She never wished, anything, but a friend to feel her presence. Hurtful

To catch himself, he jumped into fish pond becoming opaque between silk and lethal crotch. Milk of silence started flowing from earth’s breast. His name was a flower, who was a blind witness of the love for a moon, which plunged

I have empty pockets, and a heart full of gold. A family of eight, and friends new and old. I have blisters and bruises and cuts on my hands, no food for my family, and no wealth in my land.

The echo of my footsteps As I walk past the porch. The creaking of the rocker As the breeze gives it a push. Tell me a story chair, Of all that you have seen: Boys and girls on their bikes,

There is something familiar about the pain Always around always te same. Dull inside ,empty eyes Tired of the worlds lies. Looking at pain uttering a grin Am I lost in my sin? Will this go away? Keeps on coming

The echo of my footsteps As I walk past the porch, The creaking of the rocker As the breeze gives it a life. Tell me a story chair, Of all that you have seen: Boys and girls on their bikes,

When one’s Life is in shambles and mind in turmoil When one is caught in between the earthly desires and heavenly divinity Make sure He will be thrown into the dustbin of history what is the use of looking back

As I hold her wrinkled hand in mine I look at her eyes so divine The smile on her face shows joy in her heart It shall remain and never depart… She sits in her rattan chair She falls asleep

I stood silently watching the room it was my last time there. My eyes in sadness mirrored the gloom that was too hard to bear. With heavy heart I swallowed my tears while I was held and kissed. I knew

take back your smile, the fish has died in my hands; nowhere you have touched me deep in the brutal corona of a black moon – my sun spots were waning: a hole in the wind, chased adulthood of man

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

I’ve felt much worse, but when I realised how long I’ve been staring at this blank white page without having my fingers moving, tapping on alphabets like it does before when I want it to, I saw a man who

Walking along the sand and thinking of Just how lonely I am in the cool breeze Of the sea I try to understand the meaning Of life but I just don’t understand why it Never seems to go according to

I begin unlearning the script, in irreality, find myself my shadow in intermission envelops the virtue peak of sorrow, silence of space, give your hand, within clarity of reason, inner globe of light, your kiss melts. A water lily grows

When you were learning how to kill, somebody was beheading my faith. There was lint in my eyes and the lathyrism of numbers. In raw emotions you took away everything from me I was left with an entire whole. Still

Poetry doesn’t just happen. It’s not just a bunch of words grabbed hastily and arranged to rhyme, it’s not even a so called overflow of emotions. Poetry is much more than that. It’s the silence that echoes within your being,

Today, like everyday You forgot to smile at the mirror The house waved and waved You probably didn’t notice! Buses and cars and people and dogs The sun was scanning them all Realization. Oh! I forgot my handkerchief You missed

In your eyes, I watched fireflies dancing… I listen to a song within my heart, shredded, broken whispers… at dusk listening to the music of falling leaves laid bare my heartaches… tonight, it rains with thunder, being alone is quite

who knifed my wife; who took her soul I do not know, I loved her so was hard to see her bloody body lying lifeless, an empty mess I do not know who knifed my wife, I was there that

I dived into empty space, exhilarated, arms outstretched mimicking wings, I flew like a bird. Embracing the thrash and lash of the wind, which flapped the flesh on my cheeks, and froze the tip of my nose. The echo of

Death; The Dealer of the final deck of life. No hidden agendas, just a cold slate to wipe. With hand and sword or with rock and stone, with shaft sailing deadly through grey skies, alone. The smarter the weapon, the

An empty road…. this peaceful night…. As evening breeze, blend with street lights Though far are we, from city’s glow With only dunes and sands to show Come, be with me, my fairest one Let us walk this road, hand

Life is swiftly passing by No one has time to look back Or no one is ready to think What has happened in the past. Go back to your own past, You will see an emptiness every where. Its the

I In that quiet and still moment loneliness hit her, Like an empty vessel, like a roaring shore less ocean. Once she opened her mouth to speak The sluice gates of emotion let loose the words. Words, which tumbled and

I was tense, My son hadn’t returned home even past midnight. I had an empty stomach But was hungry to see him. He came roaring on his bike, To zoom past me into his bed room. I anxiously asked my

It was a big floor with full of shops and lights, There I stood in a corner to watch the flow of people, They seemed to me, a river flowing with all its might. People were of different, in color

O ! Colors, the pretty muses … Come and join me – The Color of nothingness, – An empty canvas, Fit for painting To the will of thy art ! O ! Rays, the gliding fairies Advance and adorn me

I’ve come for walk early today. It’s not dawn yet. But don’t worry! In the park, on reaching the banyan tree, It came out- an indistinct figure- dark, with …Terrible fangs! Hairy body! Fiery eyes! At one go, I moved

The biggest discredit to one’s own self is to not be ‘ yourself ’. To strive to be like someone is the biggest injustice, ever done. To be your own biggest critic. To judge with an impossible yardstick. To never

I feel the tiredness of my years, those quiet times when breath appears in melting mosaic imagery, upon the mirrors of a sea that only calls so many names, through pious sunlit tortured flames that scrape themselves away from light,

A child who was more of the trees, Than of any man I knew, Whose laughter tinkled in the breeze, And mingled in the dew. Oft In the speckled summer shade, Pleasant dark and divine, In the beauteous forest glade,

One difficulty still haunting him That time could not absolve Was the invisible sense that would come over him Deep in the night when suddenly, forced awake From exhaustion, he’d remember the war A village, a road, or maybe the

She drags her tired heels across the tainted floor Her poise held taut though her back is sore She holds on her face a cold marble stare A hard life engraved upon cheeks once so fair Her movements; once grace

Why can’t I find them, the words? I need them to spill from me like a waterfall spills over a cliff. I need you to hear me, hear all of this dread inside me, hear the twisting of my heart

Once my husband brought a pair of white pigeons, Very beautiful with red eyes and lush red beaks. Extremely gorgeous with glorious visions, In our mother tongue we call it Laqa-kabootar. A special species of sweet white pigeons, In golden

Born second amidst six siblings She was the quietest of all Her short stature was in no way deterrent to her extra ordinary skills She was the nightingale par excellence who could put the naughty kid to sleep, disturbed mind

Poems. They love. They fight. They can keep you up all night. They know what you think. They laugh, smile and wink. They stand by you, they heal. They know how you feel. Now touch a poem and see it

There is another sky of brighter days where empty heart has its fill, where another beauty glimmers on the blades of grasses. Another sunshine shoots its arrows through the clouds of a new sky. never mind my faded dreams, never

Why can’t I find them, the words, I need them to spill from me like a waterfall spills over a cliff. I need you to hear me, hear all of this dread inside me, hear the twisting of my heart

I seek the Black night. To be born and have eternal life. To open a window of heaven and walk around the stars. To look into his eyes, see his beauty, feel his heart. Only death can bring joy to

People play the dirty games, all for little fun or some fame. They hide behind the fake smile, deceiving the look in their eyes. They fail to hear the human heart, so miserably they tear it apart. Their empty laughs

When I see you, I have a smile As being with you makes my living worth a while When I see you you No words can describe the warm feeling I get that fills me inside When I see you

I was once sad and lonely, Having nobody to comfort me, So I wore a mask that always smiled; To hide my feelings behind a lie. Before long, I had many friends; With my mask, I was one of them.

When there is nothing and no one else, there is Silence… The one companion who is but a thought away. In the midst of every strife, in all of one’s traumas or the most peaceful or joyful times, the moment

Lie to yourself; said my heart, Lie and say; I’m happy, Lie and say; my life is full, Lie and say; you’re beautiful. Lie and say; I need not a thing, Lie and say; where is, trouble? Lie and say;

Half past five Coffee hits an empty stomach Gun clean, cameo on Headlights in the driveway We don’t talk much on the drive This time is for quiet contemplation Although we try We know we might take a life Most

Hope is a drop of water Trembling at the tip of a dry leaf. A grain of sugar undissolved On the rim of an empty cup. It is a paper windmill On a still day A grain of sand On

What is left to come across? everything seems to be lying open fatefully exposed before i could reach. Potbellied realities were reluctant to change they seemed to retire with confusions of shadows and full stops. There seems to be so

The heat of a sultry summers day and the news wasn’t good, you were going away. Vow’s made by the lovers brook are just trickling memories of a love that you took. A heart that once was full of life