Will the remnants of my pages

Stay in the air of whirling winds

Brushing over the grave I lay in 


Will the yellow pages walk afresh 

In the streets of the world I never knew

Wandering into the playful grooves 

While I ll be sleeping  in my den



Will the words I never spoke 

Fly out of the pages turning old 

To swim in serenity with the river flow

And reach across banks i didn’t see

After my scent is no more to smell


Will the remnants of my pages

Stay in the air of whirling winds


Brushing over the grave I lay in no

Prize of sunset

As the sun sweeps down
last radiance gallops over
the whole town

I stand drenched in it’s warmth
wrapped up , slowly lifting
as the gravity has just fallen
with the prize of sunset

Under the clear halo
of crimson sky
soaked up in it’s color
I rise above

The Prince


No …!! The crown has fallen again cried the priest, as the lightening thundered in the cloudy dark night galloping the sky in its own . glasses shattered and it roared like never before  .

The flames burned enough to swallow  the castle gates  the walls  it was thrice that night that crown fell from its place waiting to meet his king. lost in the darkness priest stumbled to find it  .

Mercy  oh! mercy people were screaming running in the panic stricken castle burning in flames .it was not the end of the empire , knight knew the thunders, falling of  crown cannot let him stop , neither will he stoop . And it rained heavily like cats and dogs fire came down damage was not much but the fear emerged within the hearts but the baby slept all the time rocking in its cradle with the breeze or the winds, gently pulling and pushing the  lever .. No it was not the end but the beginning not of the empire but the crown..

The prince he was born. To relish the city with the gold’s of peace, to suffice the needs to end the sufferings not in the cradle rocking gently under the four walls  but wrapped up in rags under the bridge giggling at the sight of wrath of Gods breathing still peacefully under the storms which  denied its retreat

The Warrior

Tired eyes rested upon

the unlocked wooden door

Scents slowly withered away

in counting hours to days

Holy chorus changed into

whines of mercy to Lord 

For the war declared won

but The Warrior didn’t return

Garden of Rose

Garden of rose
Are you safe in a garden of rose?
Beauty does allure
and fragrance intoxicates
but the thorns that 
ambush beneath 
in shadow of leaves
Pricks deep 
it does heal
the wound that wept
but scar remains 
of the rose you touched.