It will be the first snow
After many moons
And my bare boughs
Won't brood over showers
I will hold the love-some lily
And see its smile
Sunshining around
The beautifully blanketed bed
Oblivious of onus
We will write our wishes widely
On the edges of our eyes
In some silence

Only I am clever.
So most of the times
I have to bear humiliation.

The purpose of poetry
Is to plant trees in every mind

O Joy, stop saddening, sulking;
The fork teeth of cold are blunt;
The snow doesn't have identity
Of its own, and lost its current.

Jolly crickets are loving lovers,
And our hearts are now daffodils;
we are aquamarine once again;
March is here and on the hills.

I don't want to be the grass.
It can't hold the dew completely.
I don't want to be the leaf.
It can't bear the drop for long.
I want to be earth to soak your love

On Teddy Bear Day
One has to bear
what was unbearable
For him the who year

I scrambled a poem!

Some hair,
Two eyes,
Two lips,
All cheeks!

Mixed them in love.
'You' were ready.

Come and taste it!

We are all born
without nothing achievable
So we need to begin to get those things

Evil wears a mask
At bird's call it's gold
When the dusk is dark
It's silver in one fold

Both melts with Pendulum
And it gets dust, not even plum

Hold one's hand
And feel the moment.
Then look back
How much you have left.

The blind has no vision
But his dream has it

Everything
Is
Cold
In
Cold
Not the dream that keeps you warm