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Vinod Sharma Poems
I sit wondering in the sun, Who forged this puzzling one With infinite poise charm and grace And many strange and wondrous ways.
A cigarette is lit, Up in smoke it goes, It is lit again.
Love, Light, Fright
No one else before, She sighs, Has taken her Where he has or nigh.
Heaps of Ash
From the heap Of my ashes A tiny flame rises Even as embers have died.
No War Memorial. Still. 'Ye Dil Mangey M...
In the dark Of India's ravaged Yoni, Flickers a tiny flame.
A Wound Too Deep
There is nothing left of me my friend, But a battered and shattered heart that bleeds, Many a wound it had borne with strength But this last one was just too deep.
Broken Leaf 6
To the leaf at him laughing, Said the broken leaf, You will too fall that day, When so desires ‘that' tree.
Fading blush of the bottle brush Green gulmohar all aflame Summer kisses spring. Again.
Two birds of joy Perch on my tree of sorrow, Harbingers Of a golden tomorrow.
Black clouds of corrupt politicians Seem to have swallowed India's sun, The skies are a weeping at this turn, But for them this river of tar is fun.
Egypt's New TV Channel
Colour television, Black veil, Modern technology, Medieval jail.
Bureaucracy is designed To enable Extraordinary individuals To deliver
He could well have been a sadhu - A flowing beard, a matting mane - Contemplating mystical zebras Of life's transient joy and pain.
Moonlight On Wet Leaves
Moonlight on wet leaves Makes them quiver in the still night, Its mark of passionate love it leaves And takes a hurried flight.
Comments about Vinod Sharma
(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)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
I sit wondering in the sun,
Who forged this puzzling one
With infinite poise charm and grace
And many strange and wondrous ways.
Woman called is she...
Pleasure she brings in her fold,
Joy that lasts but not long,
And gives way to pain and song
To sing to who is now a stone,
Unmoved, untouched, silent and cold.
Woman called is she...
Dazzling eyes and tender skin,
Hide the cruel brain within,
Always at work, silently, unseen,
Without remorse to wreck and kill,
Many a man of strength and will.
Woman called is ...