"spriha" poems
Stress on the summit is sometimes a rock heavy enough to not roll downward even by the application of periodic high-intensity forces.
© SPRIHA KANT
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 9:21 AM UTC
This heart, if like a flower provides fragrance to others
Then it also tramples the love for those and memories of those who ***** it with their thorns
As this heart isn't made of flowers.
©Spriha Kant
Jun 23, 2021
Jun 23, 2021 at 11:57 PM UTC
I don't wanna touch my lips anywhere on a man's skin.I am rather interested in occupying a neat space in a man's brain.
@ SPRIHA KANT
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 9:22 AM UTC
Sometimes one doesn't emit any shade or tone.We actually see the reflection radiated by the prevailing situation upon one's own aura.
© Spriha Kant
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 9:24 AM UTC
Self-love is a zone prohibiting the entrances of painful solitude state and inferiority complex.
© Spriha Kant
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 12:18 AM UTC
On the muted music of the zephyr, the viridescent folks' dance and the fluffs veiled in white, sallow, and orange tinges glide in the mid-air. In this pristine swathe shield by a mysterious guard against intruders, there's no gravity to land from jovial vibrations.
© Spriha Kant
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 1:04 PM UTC
I have always been reluctant for stepping towards the path of expertise because the kid inside my heart laughs out innocuously on my foibles which I prefer over demeaning.
© SPRIHA KANT
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 9:26 AM UTC
Withering by the prolonged waiting for someone is strangulation of euphoric flavor.
© Spriha Kant
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 8:41 PM UTC
When fear flutters me I close my heart's shutter for preventing its entry inside me.
© SPRIHA KANT
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 3:59 AM UTC
Some people erase my warm feelings for themselves by their blindness and deafness for my feelings and tell others in my absence that Spriha has changed.
Sep 29, 2020
Sep 29, 2020 at 10:26 PM UTC
A woman remains an ocean of love till her pulchritude is not ****** by a Lothario.
@ SPRIHA KANT
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 9:23 AM UTC
When my soul gets bubbled inside gloominess , there's only one potent voice that blasts the bubble ; my inner voice who calls me out , ' Spriha , don't listen to anyone except me. '
Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 4:04 AM UTC
The answer is blowing in the wind:
Your promise to
paint the miserable night phase with a
jovial light phase in your
stump speech took all of us on a flight
and then we all in delight
cast our votes for you
We all are now fumbling in a squint and you
claim publicly that you shined our lives with lights.
We are all now sweating
Our mouths – now barren lands are
exhausted by the
constant begs for water.
Then your beseeching voice again reached out
to all of us for casting our votes for you
on the pretext of bringing back the oasis into our deserted lives.
How many times will we all get a passionless scorching sun in
return for our hope of getting our scintillating sun?
The answer is blowing in the wind.
©Spriha Kant
Jul 17, 2023
Jul 17, 2023 at 5:38 AM UTC