PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I will fight my own
war, like the cicadas. And you
walk unlocked in rains.

There is no pain when
sun sets. I will find my peace
in the darkness of a burning heart.

You know death hesitates
flying over the jasmines. My poem has
no story. I have jumped in a volcano.

What do I do?
In search of peace you were
breaking your fingers.

For changing the name
of pain. Between the blood moon and
supermoon lies the man's failure.

How an evil eye can
destroy the bisexual animals. I
will prefer to love a unisex.

A lookalike waits for
me. It is outrageous. Who wants to be
stoned to become immortal.

O demolisher, come
again. You can touch my bones
and gather my skin and write an elegy.

The pain has no company.
The scarred body burns in the hot sun
and wears a black coat.

Afraid to die in your
fever. I am very hot, staring at
the end. You made the first move.

Love has many names.
The moon was hurt. Dragging himself
after the rainbow collapsed.

Single set of pains
repeats the story of fallen Himalayas.
The frozen pride has started melting.

Extended agony for
me was the shivering light. Why
will the darkness win today?

The moon was sleeveless.
It drops a hint. You cannot blame
the tree. I have to go a long way.

Who becomes blind in
green? A beautiful death always
brings the wreaths in absentia.

I have nothing to do.
Nothing to rewrite my agony, Trying
to pre-empt death.

Of a curated gospel.
Now the knowledge has no value
to walk on the moon.

I am, what I didn't
want to be, standing under the
weeping willow. The end will come?

You want to see me
as I was. The pending departure
waits for you. A pain ago I used to woo you.

A carnivorous wind
takes me to the spiral galaxy
beyond the moon, the sun and the stars.

The animal inside will
not harmonize. God will
lose me. I will wait for another planet.

Prowling in moonlight,
time beats. Alone I was looted
like the moon. O ballad I will not believe you.

Everything was alright
except something was imperfect. Nobody
was taking a shower under the Niagara.

Of tears. The cascades
of prayers go into oblivion. These
killing days haunt me in dark, when I wake.

On timeline I start
finding the sun in darkness. The
pain has to come, but will not.

With whom I would
talk to arrange the full bodied
drowned truths in our hearts.

The silver barge cannot stand
in the cyclone-unheard.Collect the
handsome corpses of them who wanted to live.