If you ever question my writings...
I would just say
And I think that many real poets would agree in here..
Writing is an occasional pain
Especially when your mind is bombarding you with thoughts in the most unusual way...or at the middle of the night waking up from a dream...
You can not just decide ,
Now I'm going to write
It can be sometimes only just a sentence that knocking on your minds door
And it might have to wait for its time to come and be written into a poem
Writing can be about anything
When your heart is overflowing with emotions, no matter they are nice or sad
A real poets mind will find the way to express all that ...
Poets are givers of fantasy to others who have them less..
A person somewhere miles away who reads the words can understand that is acceptable to feel either way
When you hurt it hurts in black and white,
And when you are happy even the rainbow palette would not know to express what it feels like
But the poet does.
In my dreams....
This morning I woke up next to you
I've been watching at you for a few moments, observing your peaceful sleep
I walked into the shower..the steam made me invisible... thinking you will find me there
The hot water from the shower cascading over my naked body
And my breath is making an echo as I take a deep breath
I heard the door is opening...
But even though I know you are there I still did not turn to you just yet .
My back is facing you as you enter the shower..
I just wait there to see what you will do and play a game of selection..
The warmth of the water feels so wanderful
Your fingers lightly trace the velvet skin of my back,
And my body starts to shiver slightly
As I turn to you a droplets of water runs down my *******
I smile at you lovingly...it feels so good being in your arms,
Our wet bodies pressed against each other
And our lips meet in a soft and passionate kiss
As we live a fantasy of such passion
Each motion slow and tender
As we long to embrace all the pleasures
Our bodies,our souls and hearts can bring to us...
While the steam of the shower fades the world outside away...
I woke up in my bed lonely... thinking what a wonderful dream.
Time has stopped
The world is not exists
When you hold me
In your arms....
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to explain
When you hold me in your arms...
Somehow everything looks nice
And in stomach playing butterflies
I wish I could give you my eyes
The eyes that see your beautiful soul
In the light of your eyes...
Only the strongest
Only the bravest will survive
The Stone used to stay quiet
And remain strong
Perhaps the weather is more powerful
And by time can crush even the strongest Stone into sand
That a small wind is able to blow away...
What I see is
The true perfect match
I realized I’ve fallen for you when
I got nervous and you held my hand,
comforting me with no words said;
I realized I loved you when
I turned you into poetry .
Each time you read this,
I only hope that you remember
You are loved.
I wonder if you think of me
As I do of you,
Crazy , foolish ,timid .
I wonder if you miss me
I'm such an utter fool,
I wonder if you'd tell me
What I've put you through,
Soon I will be just a memory
Of someone you once knew,
Isnt that true ?
So the question remains ..
Grow old with u .
An every second of our life as long as we both shall live
That pure innocent smile,
Your childish face and that side profile,
Your silky hair and that perfect hairstyle,
Your cute dimples and shiny teeth .
I realized I liked you when
our eyes met, then I immediately
looked away as if it was the first time
I laid .
~ Suhas Ghoke
I used to change in my style
Once a love story ends
This time I could not change anything
I just wanted to stay the same
My handwriting is the only thing
that has started to change
It happened from one to another day
I can not explain...
It changes each time I touch a different surface with my pen