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I met him
at the sunset of life
and it wasn't love

we complemented
like black and white
and it wasn't love

like north pole and south pole
yet attracted
and it wasn't love

logical and emotional
yet attached
and it wasn't love

we met at the false time
at the dead end of life
and it wasn't love

paths crossed
feelings up and down
and it wasn't love

we lived or parted
is a mystery forever
as it wasn't love

~ Archana Kapoor Nagpal
in silence of snowfall
amidst tinkling of bells
from
my window
to
his window
whispering of fireflies
years after years
I still remember
THAT NIGHT
from
my window
to his window
filtering of moonlight
years after years
I still remember
THAT NIGHT

~ Archana Kapoor Nagpal
#poetry #poems #lovepoems #longing #poetess
Archana Kapoor Nagpal

under the stars
i was longing for light
filtering through the rainclouds
was the silver moon light

inch by inch struggling
it falls upon me
from embracing my flesh
to hugging my heart

gently sinking into my eyes
his deep black baby eyes
the closer he comes
I shy in diffidence

then I don't see
difference between black & white
probably under the stars
i was longing for his light
#lovepoems #unconditionallove #
Letter Box: ‘Why does nobody comes this way’?

Me: ‘Maybe, they prefer an email’?

Letter Box: ‘Really? That means I am no more needed’.

Me: Not really! Maybe, they need you for registered posts only.’

Letter Box: ‘Well, what is an email’?

Me: ‘It is an electronic message that is instant moving from one gadget to another’.

Letter Box: ‘Oh, so it is faster than me. It is instant that is why I am discarded.’

Me:’ You are not discarded. You are just less used these days’.

Letter Box: ‘It is instant and faster but can one feel the touch of the paper? Can a mother touch the words written by her son and feel the warmth of his affection? Can a father embrace the letters drenched in his daughter’s tear who is miles away? Can all this be possible in an email’?

Me: ‘No, not at all. But you know what the world has changed now. And maybe, you did not notice. There are more people on gadgets than in the garden, where you are place’.

Letter Box: ‘I know as there are no footballs that hit me anymore. There is no one who looks at me – waiting for that one letter eagerly. They just pass by me – as if I do not exist. Oh, it hurts, it really hurts so much’!

Me: ‘You are still needed, and that is why you are still here.’

Letter Box: ‘Maybe, but still I wait for that football to hit me, and that postman to unlock. I still wait’!
it was a starry night
whirlpool of wind kissed her locks
dressed in a white dress
she embraced the fragrance of roses
light-eyed eyes light up with hopes
she walked silently over the road

unknown to the swing of destiny
she walked under the numerous stars
assuming it was a moonlit path -
though it was a moonless night
believing in her undying belief -
and thinking the world is still pure.

what happened with her
was never the question
she was now distorted and ripped
neither it were her clothes
nor her messed up locks
but only and only her soul!
Time is to tell a story. Every girl becomes a Cinderella for herself atleast for one moment of her life.
It has been a long time
I didn’t see the full moon outside
Clouds passing over clouds
And I hold my feelings deep inside
Yet I wake up every morning
With a hope that shall never die
Thinking today or tomorrow
A day shall give a chance to sigh
Distant tinkling temple bells
Remind me the journey so far
At times my faith shattered
Yet my belief holds me tight
And I wake up another morning
With a hope that shall never die!
Dedicated to a friend who is on the journey to take the flight to heaven. She lived a wonderful life, and losing her is like a piece of my heart will go with her.
in the delivery room,
my heartbeat goes up, and then down,
in pain, yet I smile,
in few seconds, blossoms a new life.
I hold you in my arms,
and embrace you tightly to my heart,
sometimes, I see you in the moonlight,
at times – in the sunlight.
I kiss your little feet,
rub my cheek against your cheek,
I ask myself, endless times,
whether you really look like me?
you keeping looking at me,
hold my finger in your fist,
and lick my lips – now and then,
maybe that’s the nexus of my life!
Poem to celebrate a mother in every woman's life. A tribute to International Women's Day!
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