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Madhuri Sawant Poems
Only to please his deity, He had performed rituals the entire night, He had bath in the holy river of Ganga, To get away from his misdemeanor.
Yesterday night I lay awake in my bed, Spotting the few drops of water on my window pane, Wondering how water can float on sheet, As tiny little droplets flowing easily on the thin piece,
life in picture
Life is a moving picture Which we tend to overlook, Picture is a frozen image of life Yet we waste substantial time finding happiness in it,
They say humans are most civilized from all kinds, But every dog knows how to follow his superior kind. Ants know how to toil for food, And cat knows how to be good.
Love can’t be changed to hatred. Love could only give a cue about anger. Yet anger has its own love. Love has its own magic in healing the wound of hatred.
Lost in the woods of space, Don’t know what to search for, Can’t understand where to race for, Thoughts need to be cleared.
Hope is the best road, Faith is the best driver, To get out of the tunnel
Don’t display my eyes, Don’t display my hair, Don’t display my teeth. Mirror Mirror
Collage of different form can be glued together, To create a whole new art, An indeed, magnificent art.
They say humans are the free living life form on this planet, Dominant among the entire creature, But little did they know that humans are slaves to themselves.
In a crowd full hall, My mind is beyond the wall, Doors are closed, but windows are opened, For my thoughts to reach sky so tall.
A tiny seed grows into beautiful plant, A beautiful plant turns into a bunch of trees, Trees together become park.
A better place
Can mind ever stop worrying? Can heart ever stop missing? Can legs ever stop running?
A road divides into two paths, One goes to hell, one goes to heaven, To those who believe hell or heaven doesn’t exist, Both roads are one and the same.
Comments about Madhuri Sawant
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Only to please his deity,
He had performed rituals the entire night,
He had bath in the holy river of Ganga,
To get away from his misdemeanor.
He had drank only water on Tuesdays,
He had been vegan all her existence,
He had crowned the idol with so much gold,
He doesn’t distinguish between stone and idol.
He had yet done no good to any living spirit,
He spends a fortune on that lifeless stone,
Yet pay no heed to any toiling soul,
But still he hopes to find refuge in his deity.
His only karma is his act of admiring,
Not in the act of ...