Be
Benzene
Echo
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Oh my Love
when I'm burning near the ghats of ganga,
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when my ribs collapse into prayer
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and my heart starts
54
Jan 4
Thought
and sometimes I wonder
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must meaning always be carved
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from ache and aftermath?
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or can a poem ri
14
Oct 16, 2025
your eyes
They could sip the stars like wine,
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share silver secrets with moon,
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and fold the night sky benea
7
Jul 1, 2025
Writing is like Praying...
For me,
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Writing is like praying
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in the middle of a tragedy.
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When the world has cracked upon. /
45
Jun 7, 2025
Starlight
You stand where the night devours itself,
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drowned in the sickly glow of dying stars.
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The air doe
19
May 2, 2025
dead poet
I sold my freedom to poetry
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and never looked back.
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let ink carve oaths,
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oaths of lament, agony
19
Feb 8, 2025
I wasn't born a poet
I wasn't born a poet, the poet in me was born after you arrived.
1
Dec 9, 2024
Masterpiece
If a poet fills his wounds with poetry, will his body become a masterpiece?
1
Sep 4, 2024
fallen leaves
Trees never cry for the fallen leaves,
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they always welcome the new one .
2
May 29, 2024
In Her Radiance
In the cascade of light, she flows like a stream,
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While I, with an old thirst, in her beauty gleam
8
Apr 13, 2024
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