
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun: My reading
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be white, why then her breasts
Home » Poetry
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be white, why then her breasts
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments; love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the
How old is he? who knows? seventy, eighty, or in between A tall man, once athletic, now wizened and frail, but managing his empire with
How many messages of offers do I have in a day? i have not made a count yet but their types i can record with
In last three months or so a few achievements i made and two trophies i won– one for my old trousers one for my torn
A long time ago, elderly people asked me, ‘what ails you, my boy?’ I am looking for an apt-key to that query till today, but
The bridge is worn out, has turned into a mere skeleton trying again and again to cross it, to renew our old relation but each
The boy in the blue shirt automatically appears with a cylinder once a month. ‘Thirty-rupee extra,’ the boy flatly asked while delivering the cylinder. ‘Why?
“Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life
When the sun goes down, Birds return to the neem tree, And carouse for half an hour Before going to sleep Rickshaw pullers under the