Mumbai poems bring the best collection of short and long mumbai poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great mumbai rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these mumbai poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on mumbai are here for you.
“Appa, your kinda song” called out Aadi My kind? Listened, liked it instantly and That has set the ball rolling on a peep into Mumbai, may be many things to many a man Gun totting gangsters, trigger happy cops, Starlit
Maybe, just maybe, love is not a forever thing you know? Maybe it is just an evening spent taking crowded trains to unknown stations figuring announcements in foreign languages and wandering walks through dilapidated bylanes full of squishy muck and
I walk through crowded streets trying to find a face I pass by cold stares in search of a warm embrace I get nothing in return… No smile, no stare I walk with emptiness, uncoloured, unaware. Its noisy, I know,
“Why don’t we go to the park, father,” Asked the little boy, slipping his little palm into his father’s, “Like we used to every day Till a month back?” “Why don’t we walk around the park, father,” He asked, tugging
Two flailing oiled chotis slap me out of stupor. The Goddess arches out hinged at the pole, her saucer hands clasped below mine. A hooting call answered with crystal stare from wide apart eyes that grazes my shoulder, wounding me.
This collection of poetry is the saga of life in all of its colors – joy, sorrow, triumph, love and pain. The book is a beautiful collection of heart-touching poems, drawn from my personal experiences in life. While ‘Mother, my
Lamp posts become sleeping lines; blot yellow, as I lose touch with the night. They choose when to light my knee, my eyes try to keep count. Smiling behind hair strands, I let a part of me rest on Amma’s
A dowry for a princess was a city called BOMBAY with green fields, open spaces lakes and seas, tramcars that were a child’s delight horse-carts drawn by liveried men the streets were clean, wide and green with cobbled footpaths dotting
A mother and son returning from the school mother carrying the heavy bag and the bottle in one hand, another fully extended— covering the child’s head with a palm overworked lending little shade from the scorching Mumbai sun her own
Since my earliest youth, I’ve been looking for my face which was stolen by wars. I am the son of war. My memory was kneaded by her tough dances. Since forty years, I’ve been inhaling her bitter smoke, knowing nothing
I can never betray you for sure, Neither can leave you this way, For you are the one who taught me everything And nothing what I’m today. Everyone believes praying is a must, But I say that’s just a trust.
I believed it…. The hate was gone… I felt so strong… Deeply deceived… That monster inside…. Still alive…. I’m chained to this grief…. But this truth is relieving… My darkness is peace… Under this smile… Lies the wrath of a
Drop by drop they follow to shower, Sometimes heavy and sometimes slower. From the high to the low, Feeling the earth and to flow. Sounding in a delightful drizzle, Healing the land dry to mizzle. Little children way to home,
My feet can’t touch the ground when you’re around Since your smile makes me leap while your gaze Effortlessly keeps my head in the clouds While I’m unwittingly tied to this place. No song lasts longer than Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet
No snow falling tonight all is dark wet and dreich, Stars cant be seen all hidden by low lying cloud, Shepherds struggle market price for sheep is too low, children born in squalor no stables left, now turned to houses
I will make amends with me today, stop fighting with myself. Unthinkable to live without pain, in war with suffering. Quietly cries the flame without sound. While night lingers on. Nothing was easy for a quick resignation of ephemeral tears.
Our national parks can evoke great excitement and compassion From their grandiose beauty and spectacular scenario which is one of the greatest attraction It can move our hearts to beat strongly with excitement And yet there are no words that
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Greatest Show on Earth We’ve got Daredevils, acrobats and clowns dishing out the mirth” Somewhere speakers crackle to life and a record plays “Ra da da da da da da da da da” The
God created the world, And gave it a word, “Love” was the word, For man,beast and bird. Nature did its duty, Bringing scent,colour,beauty, Rain,sunshine and tree, Water and air,all free. Mountain peaks,oceans deep, Make hearts happily leap, Art,poetry,music,song, Take the
I read a book it doesn’t seem to end thousand pages I have read and yet the end is nowhere near characters keep appearing and vanishing no apparent design no apparent destiny sarcasm without wit irony without intent maybe I
Sweet little avelyn poo, O how I enjoy seeing you. So sweet and loving too Flowing ginger hair like her momma Prety Brown eyes so capturing Growing and learning more everyday Climbing and talking more than yesterday Little mini mouse
She gets up, coerced in her stark layers of imagination She gets up, from the wind that brings, this and from her own receding name What is she? A soul fashioned from collapsing ideas or merely a reflection? Reflection of
You grow like ferns in my ribcage. weeds. feeding on the topsoil, residue, sediment of the flora now dead and gone — a decaying heart. through filtered sunlight you grow rampant, climbing, twining through every part of this rotting, putrid
A parallel pain walks with you when you split into space and time. You were too shy to die, to feel the anguish and bliss of death. Something inside you springs into a tree for a half-life. The search for
The sixtieth year, since your birth; Well celebrated on this planet earth; Since our first blue sky was overcast; Would that this one might be the last; Witnessing body weak and never grow; In distress, brought your profile very low;
Scared, timid, silent, sound it had no more, Rough and dead, its breath seem to fade, Flesh darkened, ripped apart from the soul, Cover the portions of my love, The Raven pleaded for its dying soul. I use to hear
As the sun peeps out over misty morning hills and the dawn chorus calls with its piercing shrill, the demons of the night skulk slowly away, a sidelong glance at the few who got away. He rises and stretches and
Sometime, somewhere I will break into many moons – an oblique answer to a terrestrial question of a pale river. The heat is on, because of the fatal mistakes. Violence has pregnancy. Walls stand alone without a roof hauling the
Fall, fall, o water falls From peeping cliff of mountain walls Fall, o fall. Angel of heavy downpour. Thy careless treading on shapeless stairs Burst out in very next delve Laying bare the weary water slope. Lass of joyous birth
It was widening, the rift, between waves and ocean: the resilience of depth was going to challenge the height of winds on the beach I stand against the sun empowered to face a solar eclipse unreal, something was sinister in
Afraid to move, to motion, to show anger or decline, too frightened to protest, to persist, to throw arms open wide, to look up, see the sky, fight for freedom. Look up. See the sky. Today’s the day to grab