An empty rattle: too many access[ories]
not enough content[ment]
for every bauble a vacuous bubble
Look at my blood flowers, because I write with a serene sharp blade that soothes. as much as cuts into the deepest parts of my soul.
Me
- Basit
- Calicut, Kerala, India
- Son, Mallu, Expeditionist, Whimsical Blogger, Pseudo Poet, Haiku thirst, Literaly anti-literal, Foodie, Coffee & PinkFloyd addict. floating bewilderedly through space-time continuum !
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who needs umbrella, when mouthing the rain ?
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Every day he wrote the poem, again with a different ending. Lies after lies He kept writing, for what is not real but imagined. ....a...
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I write a poem and burn it. what escapes of it is my soul.
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Look at my blood flowers because I write with a serene sharp blade that soothes as much as cuts into the deepest parts of my soul.
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This morning, I listen to this blood breathing peace, in these veins— I wear prayers.
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Those times I heard the echo Long before the sound .
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- Kashmir picturesque (10)
- lonliness (1)
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- social networks (1)
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- Trail of stains (2)
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Labels
- emotions (3)
- haiku (5)
- Kashmir picturesque (10)
- lonliness (1)
- Monologues (12)
- nature (19)
- rain (2)
- social networks (1)
- Solos (3)
- Trail of stains (2)
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