rex-mathew-mathewWhisper

Indian
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Sweet Memories of Childish VirtueWhen glancing through the mental pictures / Of pure and innocent babyhood and childhood / (Pure and innocent, in the righteous sense that
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Satisfy My LoveIf love is the term for what I am feeling, / Then it's too low a word for what I know; / For when in my soft smiling thoughts you glow,
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Me And Vivid NatureThe day palace in which abides the Sun emperor, / Who knows not to despair when once fallen; / The blooms that flower as the fierce Sun's delicate followers,
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The ButterflyWhile resting by the blooming blossoms, / I happened to see a butterfly flutter by. / With fire- red wings added with a black tinge,
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The PuppetI have long been that puppet in society’s hand, / My every step timed to entertain an audience, / And my every word scripted, fit to their rules.
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Sights of the Modern AgeWhen the blackness of night draws in, / I resort to my bedroom window- / My personal theatre.
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Alone In My House ( My first poem; at the age of 9)I am alone in my house / With only my pet mouse. / My parents went to a shop
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Addressed To The PessimistLife’s nothing but a rough road / When you care to only see the hateful thorns, / Digging the grave for all joy and peace.
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The TreeI once stood as a young tender plant / By the wet banks of a tranquil brook. / I grew by hearing the song-bird’s chant
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For a Refreshed WorldFrom the struggling fragments of the world, / Broke and cut by the swords of war, / Lets build on bricks of love,
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