Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Feb 2016 Rachna Beegun
Max Jonas
I had dreamed such a world,
Being without you can be possible.
Every passing day, I miss her more and more. Goodbye my honey.
  Feb 2016 Rachna Beegun
rattletaptap
Sometimes the silence screams as well
  Feb 2016 Rachna Beegun
Max Jonas
Sea blue in your eyes
I had never seen just like grace
When you smile at me sometimes
As if you present me all stars in the sky
  Feb 2016 Rachna Beegun
P Venugopal
There’s this you in you
merging wide into the infinity
and seeping deep into the infinitesimal,
from your immutable stillness watching
the phenomenal you
in a very hot turmoil—

He looks me in the face smiling. 
I listen to him—his words,
like clean pebbles, tangible.
The thundersquall subsides outside
and a quiet creeps into the room,
snuggling for warmth.

From a leak in the roof drips rain water
into a copper ***.

I listen to him—his words,
like clean pebbles, tangible.
And then each word you hear and each word you utter feel like clean pebbles, tangible...
Rachna Beegun Feb 2016
Be the rainbow in someone's life when dark clouds try to ****** all their happiness.
It give inner bliss when we help someone in their difficulties and makes us closer to God.
  Feb 2016 Rachna Beegun
Àŧùl
Their voice so harmonious,
Silent when no strings attached,
All the curves so very ****,
Smooth is their texture,
Admiring their beauty with fingers,
You seat them on your lap,
Putting their arms around your shoulder.

Tickle them hard to make them peck,
They touch your heart with their sound,
Nibbling your ears in between,
The motion generates friction,
Friction generates heat,
So icy sweet is her music,
All over, you script success.

I talk of my guitars here.
I now possess 3 guitars.
One is an electric guitar that I bought in 2009.
The other one is a new acoustic guitar I bought in 2016 as a replacement for my 2006 model acoustic guitar.

The third one is a beautiful carmine-shaded wooden acoustic guitar that I bought in 2020 with my own money.

My HP Poem #1022
©Atul Kaushal
Next page