I have lost my pen its nib – golden once scribbled ceaselessly while the world retired to the cushion of comfort every night the quill loved to brush against the papyrus… leaking on blank pages the painful emotions which were witness of sordid transitions helplessly, yet as a powerful weapon narrating every encounter thus… Read More THE LOST PEN
what should I gift thee, a token of love wrapped in silk a kiss shall vanish in the zephyr, a rose will lose its colour lacy pack of chocolates soon get savoured in hours, an attire would wrap thou, but soon will the thread get unleashed …then what should I gift thee… which valuable jewel?… Read More “THE PRICELESS GIFT”
skips the pulse , one breath I lose a moment of your thought when my eyelids gaze the blue searching for the brightest star its twinkle reminds me of you… amidst the constellation a unique stellar assemble come closer ! I whisper, as I capture Thee in the quiet lake of my iris to bathe… Read More The Twinkle
photocredit:www.theguardian.com Oh! am god’s clay soft , tender, smooth yet can be brittle and tough at times nay, I ain’t hail from the breed of proud ,haughty misnomers who sparsely realize a drop of tear worth… neither they hath seen the gory of dead or the dreaded hunger yet epitomize words ..larger than life social… Read More Oxford Handset nay, am God’s clay !
photocredit: google images the delicate quill scribbles lore of sordid life amidst the society of racial protagonists and authoritarians few drops emerge on the paper red scarlet, yeah ! they are grievous tears fallen by tormented excruciation. the words sharp, pierce the autocratic system which hath remained despotic since ages and years ..will the ink… Read More The delicate quill
photocredit:www.hdnewwallpapers.com the fettered mind hell bent to break loose the cage imprisoned since years , the thoughts unspoken unnamed could it ever see the light wander free in the dark blue sky can the wondrous cerebrations acquire an immortal shape of imagination and manifest in the atoms of life as a splendid creation… … Read More Fettered Mind
photocredit:stylonica.com Howsoever far soars the bird It has to return to its nest in time… Like a wandering nomad roams through Yet tents in places at a specific time… As a traveler, the soul voyages on earth before its assimilation with divine… When the azure turns dark and the leaves shrivel in autumn time Or… Read More Time