When i am sad… (Conversations)

7 Responses to My day Blogging

  1. Ha!

    I snuck into your poem in two pieces.
    I know I could do that!
    You rhyme the worlds questions of today.
    Everyone same question.
    Which time is wasted?

  2. soumyav says:
    and you shall thus rhyme in a way,

    where your dreams shall flow with you ..
    in a stream..
    filling your life with all joys..
    and bundles of happiness extreme…

  3. I have gone through that evolution,

    i grew from pupa to adult, i flew
    some heights i some how reached,
    though the glory of peaks were few,
    Soaked in rain, abrupt pain
    This worldly material, all new,
    sometimes, i wanna go back,
    from where i originate,
    Tired of fictions, this world creates.
    There is pain in this glory,
    The moon is crying,
    and the night is sorry.

Revealing me… (Conversations)

poetjena says:
so much to love about this poem,… mmm… where to begin?

Just for a moment I stopped
for a short spell,
at “metro fantasies”
wondering what stories
they might have to tell,
But then I went back to that old, “scar”
which I couldn’t leave alone,
like that wobbly kid’s tooth
of that man now grown,
showing me who you are.

  • I am trying to unveil, Still unsure

    Who i am? What my purpose are?
    Failed attempts, at trying to cure,
    My faded, yet beautiful little scar.
    Stories at metro were always spark,
    Only issue is, i am afraid of dark.
    I am moving places, yet un-moved
    So many thoughts, no place to park.

    Seeds have now grown, to cereals,
    You see me through, and it feels nice
    kids have grown much before age
    Farmers will now harvest the rice
    Broken tooth were all better,
    All we face now are broken heart,
    Its a piece from Metro Fantasies
    rest will come, in some other part.

    till then
    cheeriossss…. :)

Yet another Conversation…. :)

12 Responses to Morning

  1. Nice Jumbling words… :)

Conversation with a fellow blogger…. :)

7 Responses to poets and photographers

  1. i am a poet, and i save the world every day..
    i burn till dawn and i fight with dark…
    thoughts are my bow and words are my arch

  2. Metaphors need to compare,
    whats there for illusion,
    Imagination to string,
    and one “love” to sing.
    God grace, and parents smile
    and some other worldly matters,
    a hard to reach, traveled mile,
    one heart won, one dream shattered.
    So lets just dance, without compare,
    and share your story, now and here.

    • poetjena says:

      Poets and archers alike, the love
      played out on their strings,
      pure enough to make gods
      gracious. Where bewilderment
      is great, illusion is no laughing matter,
      on hard worn paths with harder
      won battles. I’ll share you some
      arrows from my here and now.
      Let’s not forget the slings.
      Stories only. No broken dreams.

      • I have seen the arch, they miss the aim,
        Poets fall to dust, with their entire name
        Illusions, I don’t laugh about, they fade
        God is grace all around, in all its jade
        I welcome your arrows & the stories brought
        No poets will be born, if no dream were broke