“The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!” | John Keats

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast, Warm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone, Bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and lang’rous waist!

Poetry | Less Human than Human

We have always been less human than human, In the glare of pathetic greed, we are leading, Like never before, or like every Single time. There isn’t any sign of togetherness, Good deeds, a better past, or our glory, If there is, it’s rare, so we share. Shamelessly.

The beauty of Life

These mountains, a solid architecture,a life with the green canvas, all over it,like a bold green flesh, raised by the sun,the summers, winters and spring passing,it stays still, never complaining, about anything. In summers, Sun melts him, like fire vomiting dragon,his little trees and plants die due to illness,lack of water causes death to beloved…

The drops of fog

Writing on leaves, the drops of fogsome sublime poetries,of life & lies,burning and dying,true love in the eyes. Escaping from the arms of clouds,falling to the surface of grounds,it cools the heat all around. Scattered onto the soil,it asks for an another life.a life of time, for a lifetime,nothing it says, but denies.

A Life with Lenity

Whimpers in the maze of tough thoughts,A life with lenity.A thought of seeking coincidence,With wondrous epiphany. A morning that seeks night,But couldn’t.A night that seeks dawn,But couldn’t. It stays within,And asks quietly,Whether you’re,what you areor not?? When not heard,It stays where it belongs,Like a snail in its shell.