PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Adream dies today under
my foot like the butterfly. Were
you in secular age? Soul poem—

Goes in search of live wasp.
Your fawn eyes, like Cleopetra reading
Dante. I was dust around the moon.

No outsider will witness
the fire of Ganges. It's quiet flow of
lava carrying the corpse of love.

From the first encounter
to first kiss of black hole at precise
moment of spaghettification.

You will not accept the
sounds of micromoons. Tearful I want
to unsee the black light.

How much distance you
want to see between the jaws of white

My mouth burns.
I speak, because I don't want to
speak. It was the red rose, responsible.

I must start conversation
with death. It was enough to visit me
againand again. A kiss will silencethe voice.

Untold, the domain enlarges.
You would fight sexism. It was rising
like crimson flames. Do you know the real?

To become whole after
surgical fall was very difficult. Take
a look. Was invincibility intact?

Living in this rusty world
was awful. Bruises are writ large on
wisdom tree. Black bears were trying to climb.

Draggingour shadows in
moonlight we will never reach anywhere.
We were the killers of our own dreams.

Whydo I feel I am
losing you amongst the stars.
Half-life went to straighten hierarchy.

Your face becomes a temple.
Lips were the steps to reach sanctum-
sanctorum in dark.

Light splits the heart
after incomplete hugs. What gifts
I give to you. Roses have dried up.

Would you be one day
my assassin? I don't
want the god to act.

A sacred promise.
I will meet you behind the
sacrificial moon.

Who knows the future―
of bright twinkling stars in sky?
They turn to ashes.

I was sewing some
words to make a poem. Your finger
bleeds. My dilemma grows with pain.

The sparrows were sitting
quietly. They don't want to go back
to homes on the willows.

A swimmer wants to stay
in water. A nude from a painting
walks out to swim in boiling sea.

Looking at any reptile
you die number of times without a bite.
I am tired of locking your griefs.

In dark and grey diagnosis,
you become very costlier to be
snatched from jaws of time.

And I was left alone
with miseries of this planet to bear
the punishment of rebirth.

How you make the money in a
house of mirrors? Negativity becomes truth.
I am scraping my name from board.

Your self-portrait is
spilling the colors. Subject was
changing the title to kill story.

My mate your bed of thorns
was ready for crucifixion. The soul will
notcome out of body to take revenge.