Have you got the hue,
The red hue,
The blood-red hue,
Is it from Mother Tara,
The blood dribbled
From the mythical tongue
Of Kali
Hanging out of
The mouth
In shame or anger?
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Who is playing,
The guitar,Who,Who the girl with the guitar,The girl, the girl with a golden voiceSo vocally lyricalAnd gorgeous?So lovely, so reminiscent of,Nostalgic and full of feeling,Singing downWhat this life has,What love has to her,Remembering it,Forgetting it not,Reliving the dreamsDreamtSeen as tributes to.
Poetry of heart, poetry of soul,
Heartlessly, soullesslyIf not held in confidence?
My love, I shall write a poem you
Will you fall in love with me?
Love, but give not tears
Love, but hurt notHer tender heart.Love, love you surely,But break not her tender heart,Try to understand her feelings and emotions,The compulsions behind.
Giving my manuscripts to Time,
Handing them over to,Either keep you or destroy them.
I am a struggling poet still
As I do not have any award in my bag,No prizes and honoursAnd I do keep a very low profile,Doing something as a ragged man of literature,What can I myself,Except promoting and popularizing itAs I have been writing poems since 1986 and that too seriously,Doing the researches, writing poems and papers,Reviewing the new arrivals,Even the…