Poems written by Sheena Singh

Lust

Lust ode

Those Soft tones trembling in dark, a feather soft bruise on my supple skin, your luscious lips searching salt amidst sweat, entangled in your arms: a calmer me, tamed lust, wet dreams, I yearn for your touch more and more,

Enigma

Enigma short poem

She was like a blooming flower on that colorful vase. Swaying away to all that glitters.. flashing smiles, vibrant .. Radiant.. She was a bold reflection of self-doubt, provoked by silence elusive as a dream.. as moon light crossed her

The Return

The Return short poem

The blank page grinned at my emptiness.. Tears fell creating bluish islands… As my hand moved, the page bled hiding white spots; the remains of my love… Each droplet fading away to gloom; devoid of emotions.. I tried moving my

Forbidden..

Forbidden.. short poem

Behind closed doors bated breath, clasped hands, flesh caught fire.. Under the table lips lock, messy hairs clothes swung on the floor.. Fingers carving art on her chest; waists quiver… as he let his love enter her Softer spots… Deeper

Forgiven Love

Forgiven Love short poem

The blank page grinned at my emptiness.. Tears fell creating bluish islands… As my hand moved, the page bled hiding white spots; the remains of our love… Each droplet fading away to gloom; devoid of emotions.. I tried moving my

Pseudonym

Pseudonym short poem

Once in a lifetime each one of us need a Pseudonym, to discover our innate freedom of expression, vulnerability, for Loving without expectations… for Bringing out that Inner child in us, without being judged…. for expressing our inner fears hidden

Recluse

Recluse short poem

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

Ageing Gracefully

Ageing Gracefully short poem

On my path to age gracefully, I realize, I’m captive to impulses, My greed triggers expectations, My ambitions drag me by head, I sense my pursuit for perfection sweeping off my honest efforts.. I fumble as an open book in