Buried under the pages of times We still echo the rhetoric rhymes. We took birth under the shady Oak tree And multiplied whenever our creator was free. Our begetter had beguilled the readers for ages and beyond, Of the limpidity and crisp everyone is fond. The cynosure often ciphered with grandiloquence, Mystery unravelled when read […]Read More Juvenillia
To look into someone’s eyes and tell them that they are art, is in itself an art that few of us master. To make someone see the colours blooming inside them rather than drawing black and white sketches of their flaws, is like creating a benevolent masterpiece. To remind your loved ones that their love […]Read More You are art
Its intriguing how we all desire to be ‘something’, and some of us want to be ‘everything’, yet none of us is contended with the idea of ‘nothing’. . . We want to cross the seven seas; yet we wont waste time frolicking in its joyful shore and breathing the salty air. . . We […]Read More Nothing?
which shall kill me first- the fire withinRead More Raging town
“Up,up and above in the eyrie
Life rose amidst the night dreary”Read More Up in the Eyrie
“Oh! Judges of cruel art—
Let peace be upon your
Guilt ridden heavy heart.”Read More Oh Judges!
“We have kissed the million tiny star dust,
Which like us-glows,blazes
And goes into another world…
Like our own”