Qui n’avance pas, recule
Every cloud, a story. A flock of white sheeps grazing on the blue sky. or a goddess's furry coat. or the white mist over a blue river. Every cloud, a child's fantasy A dreamer's blank canvas. About National Poetry Writing Month : #NaPoWriMo is a creative writing project held annually in April in which participants …
Continue reading "[NaPoWriMo Poetry- 21] “Clouds”"
Photograph- A frozen slice of history. A time traveller's Memoir. About National Poetry Writing Month : #NaPoWriMo is a creative writing project held annually in April in which participants attempt to write a poem each day for one month. This year in 2019 I will attempt to complete this challenge of 30 poems in …
About National Poetry Writing Month : #NaPoWriMo is a creative writing project held annually in April in which participants attempt to write a poem each day for one month. This year in 2019 I will attempt to complete this challenge of 30 poems in the month of April. Please keep reading and supporting. Wish me …
You had to leave, I know. But I had things to tell, you don't know, songs to sing, love to confess and desires to express. I will, when we meet again. The road trip we wanted; always. Camp under a moonlit sky, catch fireflies in the wild, dreams and moments to relive together. …
Continue reading "[NaPoWriMo Poetry- 18] “When we meet again”"
There is a land beyond the blue hills, a scenic paradise , an abode of gods. where romance grow, like sweet red strawberry and blossoms of dreams oozing nectar of ecstasy. where runs a river of wine and elixir that seduces your senses with profuse muse. A carnival to fill the eternal creative thirst, land …
Continue reading "[NaPoWriMo Poetry- 17] “A Land beyond the Blue hills”"
I am an odd case, a boy without an age. for my life so trifling, my birth date unrecorded. Within myself, I swim in the fountains of youthfulness. I feel like a child, an accidental miracle. They say I am not, I am above fourteen, right fit to work. They speak legally, I speak emotionally. …
Bihu is the Assamese festival of spring celebrated in the month of April. Young men and women from Assam perform the folk Bihu dance to convey their love for each other. Translations: dhol - drum , jetuka - henna , gogona - traditional jaw harp A troupe of Bihu dancers, like a bouquet of red roses, …
My imagination cuddled, with the sight of first spring. The smile of sunshine, a kiss of fragrant breeze. Beneath a blanket of orchids, I lay with you spring. I wish to whisper my love to you, but I worry, I would muddle with, the cuckoo's honey melody. I would instead, run my fingers , over …
When she was young, she would pause her walk to relish the clumps of Mimosa. The leaves bashfully shrinking to her touch. Never stopped till she closed down every single one of its delicate shy leaves. Never pondered what it must have felt. But today, she feels like a Mimosa herself, touched, harassed, violated. He …
Words are your minions. sleeping in tranquility, inside the cozy cover of a book. Lying silently on its pages, like bed. But when you tickle them with your sight, wake them up with your attention, they pop up in zeal. Their master has arrived. They grab their tools, and build your world of fantasy, pave …
