Once I read a poem in 4th standard, it beautifully described the relationship between parents and their off-springs. I can’t recall its name but it was in my mother tongue Hindi which made it more meaningful and self-explanatory. It stated how a child is like the clay and the parents are like porters, while their…
“Those who were beautiful were never wonderful, and those who were wonderful, were either possessed or were extremely insane. I always had a natural affinity for the latter, they needed to be cared for, they needed to be loved. They needed to be hit with a dagger in their heart, to make them realise how…
“She was a mountain child, when she was mad, she never cried. She only did one thing- write, write, write. It made her feel better. It made her feel invisible, like nothing could stop her. She felt like a wolf.” Here are some of my other poems that you may like: Cold Winter- Poem on…
“He asked her, what did she like the most, chocolates or ice-creams? The girl instantaneously replied, ‘I love moments.’ Though in destitute of time, he quickly replied, ‘Okay! We will have moments.’ And it brought tears in her eyes. A kinship between two strangers was born that day.“ You may also like: 10 Best Charles…
He liked her because she was fierce like the fire and he was calm like the sea after a storm.
Other girls would conceal their facial flaws but she was different, she concealed her feelings. It made her more vulnerable than ever.
The little boy requested nature to paint its canvas in white and it ushered snow.
The man saw a woman with silver locks gracing her face, walking barefoot on the snow-laden path. Amused to find an old lady in a setting like this, he inquired- “Where are you heading? Don’t you feel terrified walking alone on a cold-isolated trail?” The lady carrying a bag on her head and weight in…
Men who love the mountains possesses an irresistible charm.
Human beings are complex creatures very difficult to understand, and even more difficult to bond and to love. Since every human being carries a universe in his or her eyes. The process of figuring them out, binds me with them and the slow hands of the clock helps me to get into their skin. And…