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

Every day in his life was hell, Repercussions he could hardly spell. He endured drudgery to pay his bills, No time for Netflix and chills. Man, he never had the privilege of peers, His world was always shrouded by petulant

We meeting each other by chance signalled the romantic feelings to one other and we realised undoubtedly we were made for each other We are sure to be re born many times We are sure to fall in love each

Sometimes, what you find in a study can only be expressed in the way that you walk it out. Occasionally, one can attempt to explain in words what his recent studies have revealed. Many things that we have already learned

Mother, one day I’ll tell you all. How they had kissed me, What hotel rooms I’ve been to, Which promises I kept Which ones I ran away from. Mother, one day I’ll light a cigarette Before your surprised eyes. And

I was not capable of contradicting the quietness. A silent emotion was insulting me. Forgetting the self-denial I went for choosing the impossible. Am I sick of myself? The agony overwhelms me with mystic relief. Here and now I feel

Well I awoke this morning to the sound Of rain just a pouring down and the echo Of THE LEOPARD’S SCREAM and I hung My head in dread knowing today would be The end of many innocent lives, a bloodbath

What was that dream A colour so strange Never felt before Which neither keeps me awake Nor let me sleep Compelling me out of myself Each moment And I stand perplexed With a fractioned heart Restless, Entrapped, Behind those walls

Knowledge Is Power so listen to your intuition, it is the voices of the Angels so make yourself familiar with them, they hold the key to your destiny and the light within, to deny them is to deny yourself great

Day comes and night follows Night goes and day comes Hours turn into days, days into months Every day that goes by Increases our age by days, months and years. From babies, we grow into young kids Then teens, followed

Making promises is his habit Violating is his nature Traits make one like him Why then the feelings capture. Recoiling of impatient intestines Swings of heart, jumps of spirits Chest throbbing with impatience Is the specific poser that hurts? For

A quirky beginning provides a funny story to share Fits of stops and starts when suddenly, beautifully The friendship is built; a vessel to carry lives A port to weather many storms Though this is not yet known Years of

Absent deliberate intervention vis a vis suicide, supposed “natural” longevity of generic human primate ride ding bareback across avast broke back mountain minus pride defies accurate prediction, though hypothetical projections can override unknown factors, whereby excluding misfortune nationwide (and/or globally

March twelve of two thousand and eight, It was the start of your birth right. The day we began to laugh and cry, The time when our tears started to run dry. The moment for that we have waited, The

A short poem …on fledgling dreamy Love. An enchanting world of two beings, Where exist blissful feelings An Elysian world of love and care Made for that perfect pair… There disaster wouldn’t dare to knock For love shall eliminate any

The glow-worm gazed at night which was dark, It felt more and more happy with its light of spark, She was a soft beetle, but the flame of lantern did not like her- Within the polished glass, it asked,”What are

I intend to move away from myself as apologia for sadness, Could not give up the zen, powerless, breathless, drowning, in my skin, my veins, sharing the existence of undoing, what was something. Nobody I am, connecting to you by

The rain makes puddles on the pavements Children splash their boots in them, it’s not a crime People have ideas and make their statements No one really cares, it’s just a ripple in time I think throwing a stone into

After bending the oracle, there was participation in voice of grievers. The child of sun was dead in arms of nature. It moves, when I thought it was stillborn, the history of mankind. In the saddest day today, I believe

Goodbye, land and farewell, woman Never was the pleasure mine Of drunken slumber on your lap Nor the warmth of hand on hand Never the sizzle of lip on lip Or the balm of quietly being Never did I explore

Trapped in a box of vicious cycle, paranoid by his inner guilt, the laughter of darkness is agonizing him. No longer he wants to be alive , fighting his never ending nightmare, he lost his sight of hope, fidgeting to

As I was reliving the past in stillness of the night, Broken vows and promises held my eyes tight. Of the familiar ones did I see, Some are lost in the flowing sea. Parted roads did we take, Lonely souls

I remember the night you walked in, in your heels Your stilettos echoed and your red skirt jittered Your moves were strong and you did not keel They thought it was your Ouzo, and the crowd nattered As I dowsed

Where the tide line of reality and dreams appear We stand. Uncertainty and reassurance walking hand in hand. Enjoying the kisses of the salty breeze, at the same time feeding the wind it’s flavour. Unable to indulge in our creation.

Among all there is a wholesome son. His name, we feel pride in, Shauryan. On 20 November was the jewel born. So precious that all want him as a pawn But parents not ready to give for scone. Without looking

Leave something for me to imagine. A skeleton in a pond leaps to the moon. In an air bubble lies the history of a suspended name, wasted away on water. A war is declared on the family of words, not

“I see words…….. psychedelic words…. fluttering all around and I am stupefied! for they are talking……. like I don’t exist and they ignore like I don’t matter! But they don’t go away even when I scream and shut my eyes