little yellow leaf,
caught in the winds on a string.
how you look like a butterfly,
ghost-dancing
all that Spring and Summer.
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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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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2012
(117)
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▼
October
(14)
- When gazing into your big moon-like eyes, what can...
- I am stealing the two of cups from your soul. plea...
- who needs umbrella, when mouthing the rain ?
- a drop splatter majesty, rain again. October says;...
- if only, that long,short-worded sentence, pausing ...
- Am I twisted, past a point of going back inside my...
- yesterday, has already been laid to rest. today is...
- pushing gray skies, a cold light of October knows...
- little yellow leaf, caught in the winds on a strin...
- chime echo poem rifling pockets home. my bones fee...
- I stay inside to write poems in silence. occasiona...
- perceptual artistry lacking, I bleed out.
- Shala!
- Don't forget the rural self in you. it may metamor...
-
▼
October
(14)
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- emotions (3)
- haiku (5)
- Kashmir picturesque (10)
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- Solos (3)
- Trail of stains (2)
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