छाप क्या

क्या कलम दवात क्या क्या है बात इत्तिफ़ाक़ क्या गहना है अगर जन—धन और लिबास बदन तो मन की आयिने पर छाप क्या। त

Silly Poem

I can abnegate promises of holy kingdom for you, it is no big deal, for a kingdom is a wasteland without the queen. I can melt my layers...

kahz-MET-uh-syze

Try as you may, to keep the bubble, of your frail existence, burst it will. Cosmeticize to your heart’s content, miseries and trophies of...

In-SOO-puh-ruh-bul

In the journey you will find moments that wield insuperable might. Assiduous planning, hand of friendship or blood thirsty fight. Which...

re-viv-al

Can you obviate the mercurial madness, contracted on a declivity, or atleast vouchsafe an exit from the field, when the salvo hits the...

buh-nih-SAIR-shun

Love, empathy, kindness, strength, is perhaps the ingredient, for being benevolent. Convoluted, vain, psychotic and degenerate, are the...

transs-MAH-gruh-fye

It may be meaningless, or useless at best; to be a witness, or a catalyst worse still. But I would be there, or like to be aware at the...

loo-kyuh-BRAY-shun

All it takes is a moment, for that to reveal, what is hidden from lucubrations. And yet the road is steep, paved with tragedies, cemented...

ik-SEN-trik

A bubble on the surface, of a story shining in the sun, floating with the ocean waves; Tension clinging on the surface, insides seemingly...

SAH-fuh-stree

Can’t you help, but weave webs, with pauses and words, graceful or gross, desperate or cruel, web within a web, life made of lives?...

uh-SEV-uh-rayt

Child on the stairs, looking into the unknown, with unwavering eyes, feels at home. Ascetic on the move, shedding ashes in the wind, to...

pye-ruh-TEK-niks

Burning eyes, broken back, heavy head, sunken heart. It glitters still, your soul, with glee, awaiting the show. Blaring voices,...

rih-GAHRD-lus

If in lieu, of retribution, for the events past and the events future, you receive, a moment of peace; would it suffice? If the earth...

kuh-NIK-yuh-ler

The bed is a sea. Sunken in the sheets, sweat of the mad sun. Living on the edge, of the bed, or perhaps ledge, is the maiden’s turmoil....

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