sea’s clandestine love-
this calling, so desperate
yes, step now slowly
for the somber hues-
and an unforgiving storm :
seek abyss within.
Tag Archives: poem
Dreams – Reverse Poetry
This is an attempt to create a reversible poem that can be read from both top and bottom. I have provided both the perspective. Do let me know , If you Liked it. 🙂
Dream
I never leave my glasses full
“Beer is continuous blood, let it flow.” Bukowski
the crazy old poet once said.
Cigarettes though I abhor with reverence.
My words are always the letters of condolences to everything.
Almost every weekend with scotch and vodka
I attend funeral of their dreams,
their dreams massacred in broad daylights.
Friends, Lovers, Acquaintances,
all gave in slowly, for a dream of stable life,
where they work till 9-5 somehow.
They buy food and have wailing babies.
Then they drink to bring normality.
They stop pursuing themselves
They hate mirrors.
Let them be.
I am normal now,
I don’t need a drink.
Let me dream.
Let me write something beautiful.
I don’t want to be like them.
I simply don’t.
————————————
I simply don’t,
I don’t want to be like them.
Let me write something beautiful today.
Let me dream.
I don’t need a drink.
I am normal now.
Let them be.
They hate mirrors.
They stop pursuing themselves.
Then they drink to bring normality.
They buy food and have wailing babies
They work till 9-5,
all gave in, for a dream of stable life,
Friends, Lovers, Acquaintances,
their dreams massacred in broad daylights.
I attend funeral of their dreams,
Almost every weekend, with scotch and vodka
My words are always the letter of condolences to everything.
Cigarettes though, I abhor with reverence.
Bukowski, the crazy old poet once said.
“For beer is continuous blood let it flow.”
so I never leave my glasses full.
Memoir – Piano
Cold, dusted
old and black
I have seen everything
you never had
the little girl loved me
and so did her mother
but they left me here
looking for another
Now I wait
sometimes remember the tunes,
I loved their touch like anything
life now isn’t a boon
Red Storm
As the Skies spit fire,
the winds are brewing a storm red
living and dead don’t matter now
when the air is full of dread
I don’t hear the wolves howl
I hear their cries instead
Is this how I imagine hell
every time before I go to bed.
Heavy Souls
If souls could weigh,
would you quantify them in
for spirituality
love,
hate,
or goodness
within them,
Obviously we will,
to every soul departing
or to every soul suffering.
after all we are used to
quantifying everything
why leave the soul alone?
Writings to Heaven 