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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;
In the comfort of my room I sit and scribble all the sundry and sometimes seriously on varieties of topic I build my own world of poetry and assume I am the master of philosophy of life and have solution
I was determined to churn out a poetry at any cost I scramble for ideas at no cost Topics in abundance do flash in random but they all appear to be in tandem My brain gets overloaded with thoughtless thoughts
You might be watching me, but I am watching you, You think that you’re listening but I am hearing you, You read my body language but I read yours loud and clear, You’re present in the room but your mind
Scores of my write ups came on the way Brickbats and flowers thrown all along the way Riding high with the thoughts nobody comes my way Nothing new is being written by me by the way Wonder whether have I
Find something you’re passionate about and let it consume you. Do not run from it. Let it keep you awake for 48 hours at a time. And while you’re running on zero sleep, create the next wonder of the world.
Your house is a historical landmark That’s been passed down from Generation to generation but little Did you know this gift you were About to inherit would cause Great chaos and devastation.. Your ancestors are getting Restless now longing for
When something exists, the opposite does too Black and white, hot and cold, old and new Love and hate, heaven and hell, left and right North and South, peace and war, day and night To give, to fix, to begin,
Dawn did arrive and brought soft light across a sand-filled shore, but no one knew the sadness that the widow there did bore. The young new widow with bare feet and loneliness at heart, walked slowly down the sandy beach,
After rolling the story of wrong sex by teeth the sheen comes off the subway and a hanging moon starts rotating a lonely earth. I was afraid of rumors, they were snowballing. The particles were dismayed at medieval thinking so
The tride says you reside here with my snow All of your brighest hair, been tarnished with rust You hardly knew I can discem your daisies grow Where your heart alone has fallen to my dust When the moon rages,
Betrayal, like the coldest wind that turns to ice in your veins That cannot be liquefied by apologetic words or obvious guilt It only seems to melt when we accept that people will always do what they want But shards
I wish you were still the stranger I admired Will I think again before I chain myself to another restless departure Fitting you in everyday is a sickness it breaks me As a night dark caught in look waiting out
THE WHIRLING STORM OF EVIL From the dark recluse in my thatched mud hut I barricaded myself; with the palm of my hands pressing tightly against my ears, vainly trying to shut out the mournful tune of the dirge playing
After a face – off you toss the coin resenting the liquid fame. Frame extracts the price of picture. Compassion for the artist was missing. I suffer in mid moon between darkness and light clarity of rags was improving. Homage
“Foolish Heart” The reflection of ourselves is what we look For in others that is where A mere Connection is born whether if It is tainted wickedness or pure kindness Just the thought alone that we can’t remain frozen over
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
This night of the long vigil has betrayed my soul. Columns of smoke arise from the landscape of shrines. There is no need now, to sing the praise of oblique wars. Truth has made a big dent in my heart.
Hatred as drizzle, Chisels at human souls. Contrives a crevice to separate them, Deceives and ensnares its surroundings. Fear and heartache are its weapons, Vindictiveness the float it parades on. Discouragement its cathartic instruction, Defeating the strongest of men. Wears
Behind your face was cleaver releasing past poem. The sensual milk flows from the palm into your lake. Grieving for the torn wings of pink light. Cruising on thighs with eyes closed death utters a shriek. The eternal flame closes
Her silhouette against the sun; while I stare at her perfect contour-lying on the beach tear eyed, Rays of sun-shine in the background; her shadow engulfs me with all its might; she smiles, Promises to return to me- I ado
The world is a nasty-looking fruit, With a skin made of TV screens, Of omnipotent mouths spitting out hate. Through your ears and eyes, they always creep in. But there’s a way to survive, a way to tread evil’s waters.
Ready to dismember the red geraniums rains had no mercy. Thunder did not show any preference and hails had felled the pride of tall grass. Denuded, the hungry man walked towards liberty. Moral tapestry in scape after scape cried, the
All we ever see are Silhouettes, They stand, about to leap, They take deep breaths. Dust scatters, as they are hesitant. I want to leap,but I’m a pessimist. For none see the impending regret. All we ever see are Silhouettes,
“Hey you” What are you? I have really forgotten myself, you stepped into my life, I have felt life around me,your single look Had snatched away my existence I feel your existence deep in my heart. You have touched My
For a knife, sharp is best, a good friend a valuable tool in your preparations epitome of confidence, hacker of haunches an extension of the hand and of the will however it keeps you at a remove, though those precise
Have you heard the skinny on Lenny Mangini? This fellow dreamed of a yellow Lamborghini And the good life of more, much and plenty, But Lenny’s pockets lacked any profits or pennies. Plagued by malaise and chronic sickness, Two failed
Once I dare… Once I dare to write my story, Memories crowded falling me weak… And words played hide and seek. Once I dare to lost in Love, brain went on compulsory leave… Mercifully, I survived of dying dive. Once
A dream and me gazing at will merrily A hammock and me, lying and reading leisurely A Holsunlit day and me, basking in its glory A riverside and me fishing secrets deeply A sand dune and me reflecting shadows quietly
Dawn of the monsoons it was, Heaven was already proclaiming its aphorism, Seemed to me as if god was performing an act of chastism. With a cup of tea near the window pane, The past reeling in front of my
Heavy feet Slowly walk Are you there to see their feeble knock They’ve lost their tappings They are cold They are stepping towards a lost hold They have weight of pain and remorse in piles The pain of hunger and