The Fall
If I could just think of one thing,The one thing that sent me tumbling down the hillI might try to beat around the bushBut I will always learn what to sayWas it the edge that slipped on me?So that I could fall in the tightest
Category Archives: English Poetry
Time for Bed
Sleep, sleep now,My sleepless nights,You have earned it. Haven’t you toiled enough?In the scorching sun,Your body is burnt. The mountain has moved an inch,The world, shaken by your faith,Repose! Splotches of your blood Are all dried up,They will heal soon. Lie down on this complacent
Blues
At times it goes quiet,Quieter than usual,When you go away,It feels as ifSomeone turned off the lightWhile I was still reading.I sit in the darkFor a whileTo make out the edgesOf everything around,Only to discernHow nothing is in The shape of you,This solitudeIs a poor
The Blind Men
When she hurts,They close their eyesAnd pretend to be – the blind men,She is in pain,Can’t you see?What happened to you, my kind men? They cajole her oftenTo their command,“Tired are you? Sleep-tight men!Need some food?”Maybe all the time,Isn’t that right, famished men? She is
A Poem
How would you rather have me?Between the words of a meterOr in a misshapen form.Fighting a war with syllablesOr ridden with adjectivesWith allusions galore.Do you like me in a rhyme?Or prefer me not in a noteTo a metrical song.Do you want to sell me?In the
My Writing Pad
Each day is my writing pad,I carve letters through my routine,Some days sound the sameBut every page remains different.Some days don’t speak at all,While some days sing a song,Some end up getting torn,When I trundle on their edgesTo test at what point do I fallOut
If I don’t wake up tomorrow
Today I sleepA slumber so deep,I might not wake up tomorrow,While the world I keepWouldn’t care to peepInto the foreboding of my sorrow. Might I lie,If fine am I,It is the knell that peals yonder,That brings nighA will to dieTo end my ceaseless wander. Some
Villain
There is a villain in my house, He has murdered conscience And hid its body in the attic. He steals right under my nose, Honest money and truthful notes, And saves malice for those Who try to race him to the finish line. He eats
She Talks About Leaving
I build me,To build your life,I make your bed,And tuck you tight,My lullabies are all storiesI cook for you every night, Yet she talks about leavingShe talks about leaving When you are scaredI hold you tightDon’t let goUntil the morning lightI try my best to
Sandcastles
All that I buildOn the shore,They don’t holdFor waves come crashing;I don’t mindFor they wash my feet,Preach to be boldAnd tell meHow the water is cold.They teach me howNothing would hold,By smashing my castlesAnd soaking my coat,Train me to try againAnd again if again fails.Praise