The sky is all red, Red like the eyes of that girl crying, Crying about something, A little unclear, a little muddled, She has already forgotten “why?” But she cannot forget the pain. When the rain caresses your cheeks, You can almost feel the sorrow, Her sorrow. It’s cold, But in some ways still is… Continue reading Red Skies
Why does this Man not cry,
Always having an alibi?
Ever since, he left his teens,
Who knows where his mind has been?
Oh, how poetry ceases to be found when happiness is. The comfort, the exhilaration, the joy, all of it overshadows and suppresses all the aesthetics, all the intellect trying to pen down a poem. The feel is there, that sweet scent in the air present, but how do one find words for a perfect fit.… Continue reading Happiness and Poetry
Sitting at the café, Alone I wonder, waiting, The only thing in my hands now Is a cup of tea, getting cold. Why do I not love you anymore? Why do I not look at the door and expect You’d come back, today, tomorrow, this week? Why are my senses going numb so? I see… Continue reading Sitting at the café, Alone
Mind is an afternoon, Though not a normal one, An afternoon right before a storm. Everything so colorful, But not too bright. Nature in the perfect light, The perfect form, The perfect contrast; The skies smothered by clouds, Painted with a tint of Red, As if painted by a lover with his own blood, The… Continue reading Mind
1945, February 6th, The day my life I risked. It was over a game of golf, Was chatting with Hitler, yes, Adolf. Oh, I am a 127 years old, A secret no one I’ve ever told. And I had a cuppa tea with the Führer, It’s fact, not fiction, I couldn’t be surer. “So Führer”,… Continue reading A Meeting with Hitler: Feb 6, 1945