Your Poems. Your Stories.

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Playing a game in the squash court,

With rebounding emotions of the heart

As the soft ball, till it bleeds and withers

And the opponent decorating his lips with

A deceptive smile and the gait of a winner,

Walks away and you’™re left alone!

The rules were fair, the play a barbarity

Savage words and bitter strokes

Yet I yielded to the whims and fancies of

Outrages vociferations which led to crucification,

And vituperations of schizophrenia,

Which I meekly admitted, as if I played a foul game;

As he was my best and unique pal and

I never wanted to lose him forever

The mind always search in unknown shores, and

Far away regions to discern a lost companion,

Missed en-route through your past rebirths..

Every moment the wind writes memoirs on the sand

And wander away, the waves blot it out

The next instant, ruthlessly with a cruel mind.

Calm sometimes, rebellious another time,

Turbulent at times, agitated, and weeping in grief

With suppressed mysteries of desires.

Yet, the fisherman adores its nature

And cling to her bosom, as of his mother

Every man is an ocean, ever on the lookout in debris

For lost treasures and possessions withered from his heart