Fondness Poems

You think that I don’t love you, Well that makes my heart so very sad My love for you if measured, Could go round the universe and distant galaxies time and time again, My love for you could fill every

If someone says good days will come I welcome But feel that mine is in-depth a shy welcome For that great concept all have to be in everything good Peruse individually elements of goodness we should Everyone must decide to

Once I went upon a time On tender foot down a far fled lane A tangled haunt of yesterdays astray Long was my hunt for a fondness or A certain door A value or an anchor For a ship to

Helpless I found that coquetry personified before me And resign to me without any excuse whatever,she Seeing my trepidation, He is so much in trance– The famous crazy lover forgot his uproar in love perchance I am affiliated with Exclusive

With fondness I recall love that was: Lyrical like the breeze that kisses my forehead, That tanned my skin is pleasant warmth! With drums and tantrums they celebrated the union of two souls, And then the matriarchs spurned the love

Her scent wafts alongside her and sinks into my heart; For I have become fixated, by a desire for her touch. She was glorious and overpowering, from the very start; I am hooked and addicted to her love; she is

Our first meeting was a coincidence, I was attracted by her sweet innocence. The great life awarded me a new company, She is priceless, such people aren’t many. Few days later, I got in contact with her, There was something

They have always been together Holding close, that fondness for each other Be it for a soapy shower And drying themselves on a blower Or resting as and when in their Box- bed Like some lovebirds newly wed Life for

I open my eyes trying to pull- in his sweetness closer. And as his laughter darts away- I wake up to reality’s punchline. Time may have set us apart- but here I am lost and clueless. As he speaks words

How do you feel? Is a question I hate No point explaining; you cannot relate I don’t want to talk I don’t want to share You could be sincere I really don’t care What’s on your mind? another bad line

She rocks the stage with elan Speaking not much with her clan Music her soul her heart Hands always moving like a work of art Strumming with fourths eighths and sixteenths Counting 1234 in patterns of beats Never a count

The fondness and affection which I always came to give, Has now gone away, simply ceases to exist, My mind is now contained by a deep and heavy mist- Cant concentrate on others, nothing more I have to give, My

Poem Dedicated To My Father Late Moinuddin Hasan–An Ideal Teacher- BEFORE TEACHERS’ DAY Moinuddin was his name,eloquent, which means— One who is an aide to faith and for that weens He lost his father when only six months and mother,

I feel jealous to cast a glance on it On my deprivation, brooding, I sit I feel something lacks somewhere in me What made her simply a devotee? My rival she dotes upon Mainly from dusk to dawn Lonely I

The habit of my soul to just walk away, leaving all relations one by one. Taking all the misfortunes, and the blames thereof, and the seduction of the silence of the mourning afterwards. Yes I know it has got that

In the psychiatric hospital, angels have fever blisters because of too much powdered milk, swollen still hot from soft plastic cups as pink as their fingernails lacking calcium, Their wings hidden under dressing gowns made of felt, they grow beyond

i get tired of the people red yellow black white you are precious but not mine i dont know the people you’re young are you married you’re old is there passion what is your preferred toothpaste rich or poor, can

Today is the day we separate Today involves a change I hope I don’t suffocate From the information I’m about to exchange You were there for us Not as a teacher From the school to the bus A best friend’s

Unable to reach out with arms wide spread words escaping mouth uttered for the benefit of ears his own ears no one can listen no one can see no one is around it is cold and desolate not a blade

Surrounded I was by many, many moaning hearts, My heart, I felt for the last time, blurred vision, sound echoing from far, Black satin with milky lace they decorated the case, I felt like a queen again in white purest

I looked at the night’s dark sky With the twinkling stars above, The magic they play to the eye Left me mesmerised. The Milky Way And the Great Bear; The shooting star And the pole star; All play their parts,

See me not caring anymore see me walking out the door you’ve hurt me for the last time and I’m tired of you trying to mess with my mind, so see me not caring anymore, see me see me walking

She was a star amidst the gloom her smile was like a shining boon So swarthy and scruffy nevertheless, her heart was fluffy. I grin when I recall her beauty, A fugitive being, who fought till end.. But destiny had

It spurs the hope in absent voice for a deaf ear. You will wash the ancestor’s prism for a natural death of a fault. Through me I skim the frozen lake of tears. Maybe I will watch the tree for

An insider was asking: this was a very troubling question. Why a culture becomes sick, burns the book, and beheads a god? Forgive my loincloth. This century was becoming very hot till the nose bleeds and fills the cauldron of

I am a man with an Unreservedly positive frame of mind. Knowing that frames are fatefully important As matter and metaphor. I wear shirts chiefly made of roomy pockets Trope for optimism And space for the melange of likelihoods, On

A poet Is someone who just paints A rainbow of Eros In the raining skies of the lovers Beyond their horizon of lust, Below their zenith of thirst. And Someone Who lets them imagine The preponing of all seasons of

Oh how I remember being daddy’s little girl All of those late nights dancing in the kitchen and you watching me twirl Oh how I remember being daddy’s favorite daughter But now it seams you left me with my head

I watch the world go by, From my position at its periphery, I ask each day, For a sign, a message, Something to turn the senseless into the meaningful. My thoughts turn inward, My being aches with the pain of

A story can tell, what no one else can show A story shares feelings, that stay hidden away. A story can mean, something no one can understand. A story can give, something only you can receive. A story can show,

I will miss you I will miss the way I walked past your kitchen window I will miss all those walks to the station All those sounds in early evenings of railway I will miss that little food store we

Tick tock goes the clock or does it now could just be an illusion in a world of confusion in a man-made world built on lies don’t you just wish you could disappear through a door somewhere to another world

You raise me from my deathlike slumber- only to die out in silence like a shooting star. With sweet words you buffer- my heart into a steaming samovar! Your frown sinks like a smiting bolder- ruining my entire day like

As I look around me, The world becomes so different, So full of love, So full of hate Hate is hard to keep away, But sometimes it’s the only way The person who you hate, May have a perfect fate,

My heart bleeds, just as my tear-soaked eyes, and anguish-filled-mouth keep asking: why Syria – the Levant – the rising land Why Damascus – the City of Jasmine of shrubs and vines, now turn to vineyard of locoweed and poison

I accept my flaws I forgive myself I forgive my imperfections both real and percieved I gaze at me with love I appreciate my goodness So what if it is fragmented? I embrace myself and reiterate,’ I am worthy” Thus

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

The pebbled road beneath my feet feels fresh, The calluses account for the miles they have tread. The path contours my tiny feet, Running patter towards the country fair. Rushing into the mangrove, I feel the wet grass tickle my

Dear son, with your world surrounded by arms and guns, There rests this plight, to see her son alive with her eyes, just once. Sacrificing for country is  your job and your pride, My pride is you my son. Wherever

Like the chameleon which changes it’s color with the aura So was she, her beauty changed with her mood She was hurt by men And never wanted to love She hated love and then Never wanted to speak to men