Leslie Xavier

Rookie (27-03-1980 / Kochi)

Leslie Xavier Poems

41. Down Where I Belong 4/24/2009
42. 'Happy' Forever... 4/24/2009
43. Arctic Winter 4/25/2009
44. Pain In The Tale 4/29/2009
45. Poor Man's Lullaby 4/29/2009
46. My Madonna Of Santhome 5/1/2009
47. All I Need Is... 5/6/2009
48. Back, A Prisoner For Life 5/6/2009
49. Am Your Bro, Angel Dear 5/8/2009
50. Be A Man! 5/16/2009
51. Belonging... 9/25/2009
52. Effort And Life 9/25/2009
53. Chimes Of Love 9/25/2009
54. Only With You... 9/25/2009
55. Twenty N Plenty 9/25/2009
56. Ain'T Nothing Here... 9/25/2009
57. Highland Trip 9/25/2009
58. Sensei N Me 10/9/2009
59. Pentagon Of Friends 10/9/2009
60. Vow Of Love 10/9/2009
61. The Waiting Rhyme 10/9/2009
62. Kiss In Time! 10/9/2009
63. Colour Me Not 10/9/2009
64. I Wish... I Wish You Love... 10/9/2009
65. Variable Whore! 10/9/2009
66. Left For More... 11/15/2009
67. Love @ The Stands 11/15/2009
68. Hi Chi 11/15/2009
69. Blinded Amnesty 11/15/2009
70. Triplicane Diwali 11/15/2009
71. L' Artista 11/15/2009
72. The Morning Class 11/15/2009
73. Peace Of A Puzzle 11/15/2009
74. Drunken Moon 11/15/2009
75. Him And Me 11/15/2009
76. Cupidity Defense 11/15/2009
77. Beach Dinner 11/15/2009
78. Stranger 11/15/2009
79. High-Noon Buffet 11/15/2009
80. Hola Monsoon 11/15/2009

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Best Poem of Leslie Xavier

From Brutus With Love

It hurts when you know that trust is something you can't get. The great Julius Caesar didn't and so was the fate of many before and after him. When kindness, love, concern and honesty get interpreted as weakness, they rise and stab you from behind at the first possible chance and then leave you to bleed, a sad painful death. At least Brutus finished off the King fast, some mercy. But will I be spared from the pain... No, I think...


They say the King of Rome,
covered his face; resigned to his fate;
gave up his fight, seeing a face in the mob;
shattered by the thought; ...

Read the full of From Brutus With Love

Care-Free; But Why Me?

I go visit the waves to wash my feet,
and with it the pains of a day.
Which began with songs so warm,
and midway turned cold as ice.

By the waves Da Gama crossed,
watching the splendour of the Arabian Sea.
This place was were I learnt to run;
holding hands of my guiding stars.

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