...ITS NOBLE FORM IS POEM...
Words those speak the voice of deprived
Those flow down the timeline that everybody can claim...
Words those carry the sound of heart beat
Are called poetry my friends and its noble form is poem...
We say sometimes what we want
And the way we find is not free...
We stumble with our heart not open
When kiss is not planted on the full lips in a hurry..
The Warmth is spilt on the open to the lover's dismay..
Lovemaking is spoilt alas, when you miss the foreplay..
I have to speak you something Monalisa
These are my lines written in full faith...
If you read them and receive my message to your heart like a visa
Keep them near to your chest my dear , I will smell your sweet breath..
©® SACHIDANANDA MISHRA
Words those speak the voice of deprived
Those flow down the timeline that everybody can claim...
Words those carry the sound of heart beat
Are called poetry my friends and its noble form is poem...
We say sometimes what we want
And the way we find is not free...
We stumble with our heart not open
When kiss is not planted on the full lips in a hurry..
The Warmth is spilt on the open to the lover's dismay..
Lovemaking is spoilt alas, when you miss the foreplay..
I have to speak you something Monalisa
These are my lines written in full faith...
If you read them and receive my message to your heart like a visa
Keep them near to your chest my dear , I will smell your sweet breath..
©® SACHIDANANDA MISHRA
No comments:
Post a Comment