the days have passed the nights are over
but true love they say can't get over.

i remember

I ask it and shout it
Why am I stupid?
Is it my questioning of the inapt
Or of the myriad
Ways in which
I have been wronged
Am I stupid
Cause I see it.
And do not choose
To ignore it
And just question
You each moment, that
Why I am stupid.

its still there
RUN

I am here.
The soul is dead.
I just breathe
And the skin sags
Kisses and hugs
All I had
But a few words
To say
"you aren’t left
And our run through
The green fields
Cannot possibly
Be less than
The best…”
It's all I wished
I could have..For
Even the kisses and hugs
We considered to be the best
Are short of matching
That run which
Would have been the best

i miss you...yess still
Ishant17 Dec 9

i be an ocean
you be the waves
just roll over me
each time
washing me over with the
memories...where
you exist as vast as an ocean
and i remaining just as long
as a wave rolls over the ocean

i still remember you ...still love you HOPE u too ...
though i never had the courage to say it to u
Ishant17 Dec 7

You and I
against a rule,
set for us by time.

A marker drawn
to show our end
Etched into its line

The briefest moment
shared with you
the longest
on my mind

--Long Low

signed by Long Low...
Ishant17 Dec 6

Why do poets write?

Is it their words escaping prison
Of pen to gain freedom?

Maybe its this land
of ink and paper
the only place my pain
sorrows and joys  can reside.

Is it life ?
That forces and compels
To find solace.
In  bleeding of ink on paper?

Or is it a beckoning
to fellow brothers,
of the storms that rise,  
while they battle
their own own storms of life.

I sit with ink and paper
To write?  To tell?
To find ? to seek ?
I just ask why do poets write ?

Maybe I write for the sake of writing
To express all that I am in writing.

My poems and their poet
Their commitment to each other
The way they understand
and accept each other
With no judgement or expectations
On each other’s  part
I believe are the reasons
Why does this poet writes.

Ishant17 Dec 6

I just wonder
Where the old dreams
Go to die?
Do they ether away
Into the cosmos?
Or they just
Lie down somewhere
Bubbling up as clouds
In the sky.
Or do they
Filter out as
Butterflies of my thoughts .
Are they chained too
To vicious cycle of
Death and rebirth ?
Transcending from one
Subconscious to another.
Amidst the storm of thoughts
Another conjures up
from the vast emptiness
with yet another trail
of beliefs and dis beliefs

Next page