Rings of Smoke

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

amusement

probably these nights are never here now, somethings have changed,or us, or probably the love has died, and no more do we pass the nights waking, finding patterns of life in amorphous stardust, bathing in the dark silver light of the nights… so many deaths we have lived,you and i, for the life of love; [...]

tainted innocence

i killed hopes,desires. i have no dreams now. in the predawn stillness i lift my eyes, and face the grim blur of ever distant lights, receding,turning into shapeless dull orbs, giving way to gray,forbidding morning.this earth,the sky,these stars,the sun and moon, they no longer are my friends, now i can not speak to them of [...]

insomnia

sleep is a treacherous companion, and restless in bed, i count the stretching seconds, watching smoke waft to the ceiling, waiting for sleep in the awakening greyness, which does not arrive as the morbid morning does.. oh,the noise these birds make, futile cries of a fictitious joy, hearkening a new day,and a hopeful sunrise, as [...]

  • 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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