The water of this pond is as sweet as honey
In between is a bridge
The bridge is as sharp as the edge of a blade
To those who do not believe its maker
But it is wider than any high way of the world
To a person who believes
If this bridge is a creation then it must have a creator.
Similar Posts
Poems are not the fleshy, juicy, tasty fruits
In the backyards in the fertile land of your gardenThat I have to buy thoseIn whatever shapes and sizes you sellBut they are the productsI produce tooIn a large scaleIn the factory situated at the back of my mindIn many colors,Shapes and sizesWith different fragrance and tasteMay be they are different than the stuffsYou are…
My first love
To win over herWhen I compareI feelI am more in loveWith my successThan my first loveThough her lips wereMore red than coralMore erect her breastThan the cliff EverestYet I get more tasteIn the soft touchMore delight in the eyesOf my successWhen we walkHand in handSide by sidePeople see and aweOur dazzling beautySpread all overAs I…
I can go anywhere, anytime, in any direction
Why should I go?Did I know before I came here?So I should ponder and turn backAnd never think to go.When there is a natural entry and exit doorWhy I should use for my exit the unnatural window!Rather I shall find the answerWho, when, how and whyAm I here?If I have not come here of my…
Blue Collar T-shirt
When i say i have been thereWhere everyone doesn’t at a time riseAnd hold their head to create chaosAnd doesn’t keep minds freeTo fear not to disrespect the rule of lawNor be perturbed and be surprisedWhen i say i have done that whatI should not have done as we all knowNo one can get perfection…
I am not at peace
Your sweet wordsAnd the soft touchOf the breezeCould not make me pleasedNeither the tub of your loveCould bathe meOr the cool glass of your laughCould satiate meI remain thirsty!Nor your dazzling beautyCould give me any stabilitySomething drives meFrom behindThe same thing beckons meFrom the frontI am totally restless!Writhe in painCut into thousandsNo blood oozesNo one…
I am not sick yet feeling nausea
Kissing the frozen faces of their children of six and seven yearsDisfigured beyond recognitionAnd strained with fresh blood crimson redBy the booms and missiles dropped over their headsFrom airplanes fashionably named F-16Supplied to a tiny Hell nation, Israel by the big brother USABut I am sick by the loud and grotesqueReactions from their spiritual silenceFrom…