Category: Poems
He stood at Terminal number One The top buttons of his shirt undone. Looking deep into her eyes he wondered When exactly has the magic faltered? They had made love only a while ago At his beautiful cottage on a meadow. A love so pure and true To the end, …
The moon is nice and bright on this Saturday night; I enter my old room that smell of a different perfume. Here’s where my childhood was alive where I wailed, jumped and jived; Its paint is now worn and weathered treasured still, though smothered. I was only away for a …
She sits by the window And stares at the moon And on his cd player Is the same old tune. She knows every word Every line in each song It’s always on repeat And she starts to hum along. All the stars spell his name All the photos tell a …
Hello, Folks. Today I am presenting to you a dear friend, an extremely talented blogger Ramya Rao who blogs at Words & Me. An engineer by profession, she loves to pen down poems, stories, travelogues and book reviews on her blog. A true bibliophile, she is all about women empowerment …
there’s a certain sadness in her eyes that words cannot express a love that’s lost melted halfway she is torn the trust is broken innocence betrayed one huge mistake the rush to label him as her love to quench the thirst of her soul choices are everywhere but she doesn’t …
The evening has arrived, The sun had set and the moon has shined, At the crack of dawn when the world will rejoice I will party with my friends and make some noise. Tomorrow is not just any other day, It’s a new year, new beginning, a fresh chance to …
It’s a #MicroPoetry today! I hope you like it! This post is for Day 23 of UBC and Daily Chatter. Also linking to #MondayMusings @CorinneBlogs.
She stood by the window And waited for her hero; All while wondering where it all went wrong For he was like her favourite slow song. She waited and waited in vain At least to meet his glare in fury and disdain. He was imprinted on her brain For forgetting …
Paint my life with florals. With all the joy they bring. Paint my life with florals. So it may feel like spring. Paint my life with florals. In autumn’s brilliant world. Paint my life with florals. Before my love whirl and swirl. This post is for Day 15 of UBC …
We once held hands interlocking fingers, A promise to each other We said we would be strong, united, supportive; That the vast oceans wouldn’t separate us And we would make it work. But then the winter arrived with darkened seas, turbulent waves, and dangerous, unchartered waters. Questioning the belief we had in …
