Rings of Smoke

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

silence

look at the moon now, it is strange, crumpled,like an ugly,yellowish lump of paper someone took it out of the dustbin, and stuck it up there,to mock us. the stars seem to be a cosmic parody, of the earthly lights,burning all around me, glittery,loud,brittle,mocking the moon we shared. oh,and the oceans have gone silent, truculent,and [...]

rebuff

there is this small matter, of wounds and pain, between you and me, an ancient enmity… a small,temporary issue, i keep telling myself, every time when i resolve, not to speak to you again… an issue of life and death, and the limbo in between, everynight,when i go to bed in the cold, huddled like [...]

rolling stones

Midnight, the sound of the sprinklers In the background, sitting on the terrace Looking at the old, drying tree, so Similar to life, and thinking Of nothing, or some things Unrelated, in circles of lost Innocence, waiting for the night To bathe in the moon And looking at your face, shrouded In smoke from The [...]

  • 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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