Skip to main content

Whispering story




O The saga of a whispering night.
O The confessions of a whispering night.
O demon of night tell your story of caged knights of love.
O Night don't become so ignorant tell your story of those whispers.
The rainbow dares to claim the sky floating over golden daffodils.
The light becoming into soft curls of gold on every cloud.
The wind running wild overcoming the inhibitions.
The trees whimpering feeble sounds of joy through the trees
The scent of Lilies and jasmines surging up on the crest of air
The wind swinging dancing touching leaf to leaf.
The rainy tears trickled downstream her cheeks of every leaf.
The rain drops tossing heads in sprightly dance.
The majestically plodding silence reigns in the barren night.
The breeze dancing like a joy on the heart of a sorrow
The touch crept up and peeked over the leaf for taste of desire.
The smell of musk in the deer hiding in night.
The trickling sound of rain seep into the night.
The roar is muted to the crickets song.
The night is quiet with murmur of thanks.
The extinction drifting into twilight's whispers.
The body's heaviness fleeing into incandescent winds.
The time just seems to creep along.
The hot summer days into furtive departure.
The mysteries of outer space lies in the darkness.
The aroma buried deep in the heart where secrets unknown live.
The stars around gleam and sing amid the gloom of giant trees.
The stark night cloud to cloud existence is still an enigma to all.
The rain drops dance like a pearl on a string.
The murmuring hope can provide balm for troubled soul.
The fragrant Death cannot take its toll!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Street talk!

                                                                         Gray Life on the street  More people in our country lack of homes today.They live under the flyovers,under old broken bridges,inside plumbing pipeline, near railway stations, road dividers, pavements - they are everywhere.Every single day.We all pass them by uncaringly. Daily. Even me included. It is not easy  seeing  someone trying to survive on the  streets  of the city, and our reactions can range from pity, to anger, to choosing not to  see  the person at all. ... what it's like to have no home. Homelessness is about more than just poverty.And on bone chilling winters s ome arere visibly distressed and freezing, barely able to feel their hands...
4 comments
Read more

जीवन इक माँझी बिना कश्ती...

मैंने एक अजीब तथ्य के बारे में पढ़ा है कि, वियाग्रा, जब पानी में घुल जाता है, तो कटे हुए फूलों को आम तौर पर एक सप्ताह से अधिक समय तक खड़ा कर सकता है। तथ्य संख्या दो- वियाग्रा जेटलैग का इलाज कर सकती है।  वे कहते हैं कि यह आपके दिल के लिए अच्छा है। इस जादुई छोटी नीली गोली ने दुनिया भर के लाखों पुरुषों और महिलाओं को एक पूर्ण यौन जीवन का समर्थन करने के लिए अपनी ताकत पर काबू पाने में मदद की है जनाब। जल्द ही, कोरोना काल के दौरान घर पर बैठे वेले लोगों ने बाज़ार में इस जादुई दवा की अप्रत्याशित बाढ़ भी देखी, क्योंकि निर्माता इस गोली के एक टुकड़े के लिए होड़ कर रहे थे। बिल्कुल शराब की तरह। काश हमारे पास जिंदगी सुधारने के लिए भी वियाग्रा होता। यहीं काश पर अटकी है। 😂👍याहू...आप सबको मेरी यह बात थोड़ी सी हैरत एंगेज और पागलपन भी लगे। मगर मेरे प्रिय पाठकों मानो या ना मानो। कृपया मेरी बातों पर विश्वास करें।यह मेरे लिए भी एक नई और अचंबा खोज है।जो सत्य भी है। निश्चित रूप से सभी को इसे कम से कम एक बार आजमाने की तो जरूरत है! काश हम इंसान भी ऐसे होते।चूंकि इससे उन्हें उत्तेजना के प्रति बेहतर प्रतिक्रि...
Post a Comment
Read more

My needle story.

I sat nervously, fiddling with a needle. Dwelling on matters that have essence  beyond all this fiddle. Pondering no sword can play wheedle with a needle.  Since It's the only machine with a treadle.   I sew my ballroom dress under a candle.  Boring a hole between with a wimble.  Sewing the hemline with thread and needle. Holding the seam together despite all the struggle. Keeping my finger's on the  material. Spinning it's handle with trouble.  I realize it's time to replace the needle. As I sit throughout night sewing with thread and needle.  I could hear the morning roosters crowing.  Pricking up my ears  to my cows braying.  Along with my restless beagle too baying.  With that heavenly scent of freshly baked bagel.  Licking my  toes   in company of my feet h ere yawns my beagle.  With Floppy flapping ears and sagging jaws my naughty beagle. I sat with my scissors and thimble.  Adjusting the wim...
Post a Comment
Read more