The Crying Child
What ails you, child? Why cry you wild? The journey is yet to begin; The world is crook and pain And outright insane; It hides in its ways, Mysterious days, Hurt, that has yet to find a name. It will a play a game That’s
Tag Archives: poem
The Nomad
Sandwiched between places, I am a place Without a ground To call my own. I go here, I go there, Yet I am nowhere For a while; My while eats them alive. They talk in whispers, How my presence Bothers their heartless bodies. You wanted
Mirrors
I feel nothing, nada, When I browse through all the faces in my time. Sunny ones, smiling kinds, contented minds, Adventures hide inside their green eyes. People are strangers without their thin masks; They wear them to pose a split second sign To create an idea
Stiletto – A Short Animated Film
I have always had a thing for animation. Good news is that I have ventured into this department as well. I bought myself a good One by Wacom Graphic Tablet and it’s been serving the purpose. So far, so good! If you too have some animation
The Boy Who Cried Love
Moments pure wash up my gate, My eyes hold rivers of faint memories That pour out one by one, Like a touch of a girl in my hand – Soft and not from this world. Of whispers sent through the wind When I was too
Drowning Stars
City lights, You have drowned all my stars! Can I hate you more for Painting over my canvas? The quiet time of the lovers, Who used to prod for answers in the vast Had a world to explore; You have smeared it with your din.
The Philosopher’s Lullaby
Do you go to bed to eat your day? To make your misery go away? Or because your eyelids fall Whenever you try to stay awake? Are you waiting for a point in time To snooze yourself till you reach there? But all the unpleasantness
Utopia
When you are loved for every breath you make, Praised for every step you take, When you ask you get your own realm of space, When you walk and you reach a place, When you talk and they lose the presence around, When you are
Insane Eyes
Eyes of glory, Eyes with a story, You hold my gaze with reflections of a star; I think they are diamonds you wear for eyes. If you hadn’t turned around for a furtive glance, I might have failed to notice your eyes looking into mine,
The Road
I am walking.I think I am;The road walks the other way.A tiny kiosk sells death in all sizesWhile people flock in huge numbers to die;They ask for their favorite cigarette flavors.A girl preens her hair trying to findWhat she doesn’t look like in a vehicle’s