And went away.
Roses for St.Valentine, roses for the Lord of Love,
Unwrap your feelings or him,
The feeling of the heart.
Offer to him to
Or pray to him at least for once
On St.Valentine’s Day.
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Oh, you are not my own,
How beautiful are you,Let me touch you,Your cheeksAnd lips,Your eyesAnd noseAs may not again!One day you will pass away, my love,Pass out of sight unsaid,I shall search you,But shall not find youSo, let me see you in full, my love,Are you not my own,Will you go away?
A small Kurd daughter,
How to say to?
Is there anything like English poetic voices
The north or the west of IndiaOr voices from the northeast?Even if there are poets,They cannot be called born,But made,Just poetic voices in the making,Had there been, we would have heard definitely.Just after reading K.R.S.Iyengar’s history book,The poetical people are trying their bestTo come through this politicsOf the subaltern,Which is just a platform to highlight…
After a long time
House sparrowsTwittering,Chirping.Sparrows,The small sparrows,Lessening house sparrows!
Friend, you call me a great poet,
And if to go deep into,We are not less than anyone else.Like the feudal lord, let me lie inWith my legs on the table,I lying on the sofa,You sitting before and I in my reclining state.In the meantime, tea comes inAnd the poet stands up as for the tea-break,Keeps sippingAnd chatting about poetry.Let me smoke…
Viveka is rationality,
The power of differentiating.