My new poetry book is out! Please buy it if you’re into poetry!!! https://notionpress.com/read/silence-binds-us
Category Archives: descriptive poetry
silence binds us – poetry book on the way!
Boats
The spray of citrus
Attacks some eyes
Walking Back
I could travel the same route Take the same train, Carry the same bag, And listen to the same music, But what I was then, Is not what I am now, Things will not be the same, No more will I be able to Doze off next to the window While they discuss poetry.
Fish Skin
I smell the ocean In the skin of a fish. In the corners of my mouth the taste of waves rolling and rollicking with a salty roar. I wonder where the fish was caught, How far out did the fisherman go to cast his net? The fish tastes of the caverns, corals, and crevices thatContinue reading “Fish Skin”
City
The bus hurtles down the highway Rumbling, rolling, rattling, At every bump and bend. It leaves the city behind, Which now is, a thin white Layer of fog, freckled with dots of white and yellow. What brings us out here, to the city? Is it the death of god, and dawn of Independence? Or isContinue reading “City”
A Brush With Manoharrai Sardessai’s Poems
Manoharrai Sardessai was a Konkani poet from Goa who contributed immensely to modern Konkani poetry. He was fluent in several languages including French. However, Sardessai wrote extensively in his mother tongue Konkani. This essay will look at a few poems of Sardessai in the light of his close connection to Goan soil. Konkani poet MadhavContinue reading “A Brush With Manoharrai Sardessai’s Poems”
Cityscapes as Detrimental Factors in the poems of Allen Ginsberg, T.S. Eliot and James Douglas Morrison
CITYSCAPES in MODERN POETRY Hey! Use the above link to read my article!
Dead Leaves
You still remember the scent of crushed leaves basking in the mud, the sun choking out their water. The inviting aroma of dead leaves would anchor itself in the air of a hot, sunny day. It was the time of farewells and goodbyes, tears and nostalgia for a past that could not be undone. AtContinue reading “Dead Leaves”
The Chief
The Porqupine Stood in the middle of the road, Quills pointed in defence mode, He was going to write a novel, With my blood And his hundred quills. The twilight twisted slowly into night, And I stepped back Out of respect For he looked like a native American chief With his white and black spears Continue reading “The Chief”
Bhuva 