I write when my muse play tricks on me
hiding behind the tunes of adversity.
A simple thing such as smile or touch, anger or quote, music or hum,it sets my world rolling into a ball of perfumed poetry
Friday, July 12, 2013
Dreadful Poem : SunSet and Moon
there is a moon outside my window its not indian there is no woman waiting on the terrace to offer it water or milk no pampering or fuss over it it stands there alone over the horizon watching its own reflection in the sea
It winks at setting sun who cares not for an ardent fan blushes too much on its own in its self praise spreading its red color over the bosom of clouds
Moon just shines unlike its cousin in India that entralls people on every festival this Spanish moon seduces only me....