It was just yesterdayThat I wrote a poemto the early spring.Blooming flowers in my gardensoothe my heavy heart,every bud glowing green;Spring is a work of art. The hollow earthbeneath my feetis now as lively as a new born,Sometimes I feel I romanticisespring too muchbut, I am not willing to unlearn. It’s April now.It’s sowing in… Continue reading Beloved spring – Poem
Don’t just hear,listenwhat one wordwhisper to other,Here, all the words areadjacent yet farhow they managed to exist,I wonder. Also, Instagram
Distance between wordsis our home. I hang my words on thered thread around your neckand everytime I look at youit reminds me of the factthat my poems and you are one,Talking about chillsI never met anyone like you, none. Your smile reminds me of the skyunder which we first met,and the summer breezetake me back… Continue reading You and poems
From silent poetry to screaming voice of art I have met people, creative from the heart. They tried to teach structure and rhythm but who they are to decide what we are? I have seen pioneers of colours and words – the weapons which give scars and help the world win wars. From Van Gogh… Continue reading Art
Those honey coated eyes were the “okay.” to every “okay?” I used to throw, when sheets used to haunt me In search of rhythm, to him I used to go. The one named after my favourite colour In his smile I used to see the rainbow, Every mountain was his own and every stream he… Continue reading Pockets full of Cosmos.