Landscapes Poems

Her presence was like being breathless; skydiving over a foreign land you’d only seen in photos but admired, longing to visit in the cool unfamiliar majesty of a new landscape. She looked at me, and before anyone else could move,

Where are the spider legged elephants now That trekked across the red horizon, the hush Of twilight trailing just behind them in their wake? We saw them towering over the vast savanna Shimmering in the atmosphere The tall grass waving

Welcome,welcome,welcome, Welcome to Paradise Welcome to Nainital. A heaven on earth, Sun-kissed mountains. Yachting,boating on serene lakes, The charming lakes and splendid landscapes. The most beautiful romantic place, In the Lake District of India. Nainital is the Majestic Queen of

You, The Oceans of Beauties, Master of all treasures beautiful. Within moments you can make us laugh, Within no time,You can have us crying. Beautiful you are, the source of all beauty, Creator of everything that looks pretty. Beautiful landscapes

Pander to the broken once more shall you see, the changes made, Above the mighty Stereo Surrendering, only to ignite streams to pour From the fountain of the Infinite Well. Oh! allow such splendor to splash upon a page Aplomb!

A skylight begins the apartheid in ironed out differences. At the shores skulls have reappeared. Blue flames were eating away the green carbon of the dying giants. Fake photosynthesis was canning the skimmed breeze in books and encapsulated euthanasia was

Walking beside a river, watching landscapes mirror underneath the sun Subtle colours, everyone encapsulated by the river pictures all across and along Yellow flowers, look at them for hours and the branches stretch like towers, entwining from earth to beauty

You are not a season but a presence, An imagined whisper in someone’s ear. And with your hollow footsteps of silence, Perhaps a traveler who is not here. A Phantom that haunts the city, That we inhabit while we are

I’ve fallen in love with the poet In all its dimensions rippling across the pool of time, incarnate in its everything the rosy cheeked and wet lipped girl rattling existential verse over the clamor of a twelve car train, barreling

What sad weary eyes we have that see, in all the world, such poverty and pointless pain. Would not the sunlight bathe upon it if we simply look again? For the eye of the beholder may choose the depth of

Introduction: Aldo Leopold (January 11, 1887 -April 21, 1948) was an American author, scientist, ecologist, forester, environmentalist, and conservationist. In the 1920-1930 eras, he moved to the Baraboo, Wisconsin area. The grey wolf was viewed as a predator, to be

One day a book materializes And floats off store shelves; The other side of earthly farewells, It describes and tells. Upon its arrival, It trends and goes viral; There’s no literary rival – Life’s AfterParty is the title. THE DEFINITIVE

My conscience , it travels through the sky , to the music of life. Where dolphins swim in the sands of time, My risk floats, my desires fly high , as I sit on the clouds of my dreams, and

Water pouring inside the fence of beyond ten feet above the surf waves climbed higher as the tide was coming in at the usual hour Rocks mixed with shells colored brightly like a bright morning sunlight oranges, gray, blue and

I can see your face, hear you laugh As if it was only yesterday. I see you run,jump and smile Delight in watching you play. Where have you all gone? You are all still real to me I see you

World at my window, my window-framed world! You twist and twirl my giddy-headed breath awhirl! In sun and moon and rain you look in and walk on by; In shade and dew-fall and wind, you heed not my sigh. In

Look at these lines – fishing for compliments – Hooked, they drag us back. Leave us squirming on the dry bank: Palpitating, bruised from the fight. Removing the pin from the mouth It’s a painful business. But worthwhile. Who’ll throw

Part 1 – Us A connection, telepathy sometimes. Cup of tea, cup of coffee. Helping hand, kind assurance. Pat on the back, kiss on the lips. You and me and complete loss of words. There’s something between us. A touch

The day I lost my very first tooth, I was half way through grade four, I’d run my tongue along the gap, Where my tooth had been before. I remember I went home crying, And showed it to my mum,

Egos, like glass bottles, Always on edge; Of precarious ledge; Into a thousand pieces break when touched; Prick and poke the puerile mind; Until time heals the Bottle, and Back it goes to the edge. Man, slave of identity: glass

This is a poem of male roads. It starts with an ordinary road made up of daily traffic plus the occasional traveler impulsively joining the regulars. Unlike them he cannot calculate whether or not it is worth such risk. The

I entered their Kingdom, Where once I did sing them, To sleep As they lie in their beds. Their eyes slowly closing, Their heads softly nosing, The pillows That lie ‘neath their heads. I saw their chests rising, And felt

They smear thy love to hide their sheen For beauty, they found, is hidden within Through sunken eyes, as calm as thee They embrace thy art, in joyous spree. In search of peace through coarse terrains From Himalayan caves to

Somewhere along the dark shades of trees I could feel someone’s waiting for me A creepy feeling I couldn’t hide A spell telling me not to hide. A second thought I set aside As I wandered through the night I

I wake up in the morning and your face is the first thing I see, I take a deep breath and I laugh out, ha!ha!, remembering the outdoors and the sea, Oh dear ma!ma! You are so dear to me

Vast oceans, deep blue sky.. Wind around this universe… Makes you breath… To feel love, care and material… Whenever, I walk alone, I never thought to be alone… Because my surrounding never make me feel like that.. To choose, A

From the concrete jungle of materialistic pleasures, From the frenzy of amassing futile treasures, From the constant fear of losing or winning, From the endless cycle of falling and sinning, From the darkness of blinding fame, From the mindless, cut

It was inheritance of age before the mirrors for the language of windows. The high rise buildings always cast a pall of gloom.earth seems to slide and I cannot reach the sky. I want to say what I did not

Nothing like you I had ever met… The crowning star after sunset… Like unsung silence of wood… Crushed through dove hood… Love is not happiness to survive… It is more than sweet realities of bee hive… Sting is poisonous only

Again i hear the word in my heart falling like generous drops of peace flowing through my grateful core like honey glow of melted butter-mellow rays dancing on warm yellow flowers bursting through your smile meandering easing me comforting and

‘She smiles sweetly, like morning light As gentle winds and radiant sun Cast fragrance on this day of bright Her cheerful eyes so full of fun Like drifting leaf on starry night A pleasing sight to everyone Her graceful charm

I’ll bake tonight a rounded cake to celebrate the wish I make I’ll light my candles with the Moon and let them glow in nightly gloom. I wish myself a better year, to feel and see what I can’t hear,

Well this could be the Renaissance or This Could Be Now… a circle dance in the hour of the Northern Mockingbird… Venus in Pisces by chance…a wild and crazy romance serenaded by sweetest sonnets ever sung… enchanted by fragrances of

I miss you so much everyday, not having you hold me and hug me, feels like torture in every way. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, setting the soul free, What changes will come ahead I wonder. I wait till

You’ve crossed my mind many nights. Sometimes I just lay there, holding you tight in mind. Wandering your body with my hands. Filling my fingers with the skin I’ve dreamt so much about. The things you keep hidden. unraveled in

Dream the dreams that once had tip-toed softly through your sleep Dream of the immeasurable, so silent and so deep, Believe in the impossible, yet be prepared to doubt Your whispers are just dreams of night that haven’t learned to

They don’t lie, do they? They don’t ask questions, they reply, How do you not respond to the plight? How can you just ignore the sighs? Beauty resides in the core, Surrender is one of its pore, From where the

Dear Sylvia, Autumn weeps in perennial loss for you. Shedding its’ veined dry tears, falling on cracked dry soil. The live oak runs around the front yard, screaming her hair is lost… in bald cries. I want it to rain

Beckon me through the maze Lighting my footsteps as I tread Quiet my heart to follow with no fear of what’s ahead Still my mind to sense the way Let my trust outlive this day May no harm or hurt

In my pursuit of glory, success, fame and bliss, I saw the path ahead torn apart in the darkest of lies, demons, deception and despair… I realized my old self crumbling; leaving a shrewder me: a fascist by choice… Yet