Today would be the last dawn of  Simon’s matteer

Though his feelings more into this city in which he once belonged to

Today would be the last reckoning as the brightness always fades away

Shall the city what he knows as home waiting for him in impromptu?


The remnant of a family, ramshackle rooms and the alluding intensifying memories

All reminds a purity that could happen in future serenity

The windowpanes, curtains, scatter tubs and towels

All are weeping silently and waiting for a sweet calamity


Don’t grief said by a bunch of a grief tourist of the walls

As they gather, gathered in a swarm into that last count

The poet Simon looked a far where the lane ended

Thinking of his son and wife as the ticking mounted


30th May, 2016


Life will ones again sprout as rhymes

The butterfly who flies around this earth
Through it’s ever changing colors
Where is the difference between me and it?

A poet deep down inside me always muse
About the possibility of poetic justice
Juxtaposing one self within the realm of poems

Knowing that once I was a poet of earth
Then transcended into a poetry
And lastly I found myself once again as human in it

So there will be no anger and grief when time will arrive
As I let go the life to the infinite
Hoping the life will ones again sprout as rhymes

29th May, 2016

Death Fear

Are you afraid of dying?
If I say no then it will be a wrong saying
Whenever I felt the momentum as a face of dying
Seriously, then I tried to escape from that momentum as a rat
Or the number of times I felt that I would be toppled after the little toking
Then off course I wanted to escape from that state by watching the pornography
Hence, I rescued myself from the death
But, one day I have to encounter with king of death
What will I do then?
Yes, I will expand my awareness



27th May, 2016

How much will you take Endlessly!

How much will you take
The canoe, river and the periods!
Thus I’ve found a heaven
And its appropriate
What ever you say
But I’ll steak to the heaven
Like the glue
Would you like to
Know the theory? wingless fairy
‘First you have to be soft
Then spread around the realm of mind’
Now, conquer the war
Conquer the heaven
Everything happened
Got it!


26th May, 2016

The chronicle of becoming a poet from an infant



The future of the children and the green supple grasses

depends on you!

Though you are not get used to call them infant

Is infant only defined if only those have limbs and so!

Who learns to speak lie slowly

Learns to playing game with smoke

Habituates to sleeping like a lazy cat

Get astonished while seeing the decorative imprint of a bread

Loves to read the poem through the romanticism

And dreaming to be a dreamy poet

while hands begin to agitate

Keep in one’s mind that-

Not to become crazy for the fame

Rather be confined in the realm of poetry

Or simply become a hermit, stupid!



25th May, 2016


I touched you with my crude hand

I touched you with my crude hand
Knowing the filthiness of it’s prejudice.
And now the life which is evolving
Throughout the uncolored horizon,
Nothing could stop it, except
The insipid cup of tea of our dreamy belongings
Which fabricating the sanctitude even more.
Surely hinted by you!
Yet the blue sky spread out a star fair here
Musing for an inexplicable incorporeal goddess.
Hence, I would turned to be a woman again
To see the comedy instead of tragedy!!