Aren’t bridges wings? Why has man thrown logs over streaming brooks? Why has he erected columns to pave way for humanity? Yes, they are bridges, they are wings! You fly over the land, only that you have your feet on the concrete. You feel the smell of air of the heights. You are born to... Continue Reading →
The auto kept moving in the tempo of its monotonous noise and I was lost in the haze of running trees and houses. The mind had a shallow nothingness drowning into a deeper one like a leaf tide on a sinking stone. It was strange how the mind was totally empty even though it had... Continue Reading →
I might survive this pang, I might survive the next pang, might survive yet another fit... But how many times do I survive, till I survive?
He was an image of the wind; sweat drops on my skin, he cooled me in a swing; a secret admirer, was he akin; danced on my lids, in blinks; He flinched, one day, away caressing till the last of my hair; so long, he is gone, still, like wind I feel him always around... Continue Reading →
Repost from one of my old post: "What face of love is it?" ...Sweet girl is Aditi. The kind of girl you feel like hugging, the kind of girl who smiles any pain off you, the kind which is innocent, the kind that is soft, the kind that is friendly, is strict, is cutely stubborn.... Continue Reading →
Beneath the night sky, with summer heat high; lay two souls, bound in a roll; In the tide of stars and blooming crescent, they lay embraced arm in arm; the cool breeze and her velvet hair danced over his face , her lips chirped stories of her age , which he did not listen but... Continue Reading →
You broke my beating chamber, my heart shattered now, its shards point to you, crave for you and rip my chest open to haunt the going places, all for you. But you, heartless, look at me with a wicked smile, as if saying " a few steps more and I'm all yours." I smile, and... Continue Reading →
Her river long hair, like a dark night; dance like silk akin to the flow of desert sand thru her fingers tender; The wind shakes the night brushing my face over, like a stone breeded ripple; Hope she feels my beats, let her wind be the messenger.
She’s like, a beautifully crafted piece of literature; She’s like, an impeccably brushed canvas of miniature; Like a mural’s splendor, she’s my soul’s plural, yet singular we stand ajar, bound in the music of sentimental silence; The bosom’s lip sync, like the perfection of Mozart, like the harmony of Beethoven; Her eyes rain love... Continue Reading →