Rings of Smoke

These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.

nightbird

late at nights.. lying on the floor, watching the the blue smoke curl lazily towards the ceiling, i again think of you.. and this time there is no alcohol to blunt the sharp edge of memory.. reflections are vivid,like photographs- those scraps of frozen time that i once burnt- and the heart communiates with itself…and [...]

why?

ever hear the word “duality”?it is crazy word an ugly word as beautiful as the caress of your mistress as passionate as fire as cold as ice as mad as the world;it is a fucking nonsense that governs all things in this crazy sane coldly mad world of ours… we are here because we needed [...]

beyond from here

tonight, as i look at this melancholy,dull moon, bathing the world in its ghastly light, accentuating the murky shadows, and making the lines on your face appear a bit more tired- it cleaves the heart,and burns again on the mind,an old promise.. not quite kept-the vow we took, together in the fading light….. the promise [...]

  • About The Line under the Blog Name

    The lines generally are from some poem which I have, at some point of time or the other, loved. I do not mean, by including them, to be snotty or pretentious- but I would love it if you could identify the lines, and take much joy if you were interested enough to search them and read the original poems. If not- you can ignore them.
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