Biography of Mann Bhatia
He is this Insane Visionary who looks at world differently, he can keep looking for hours. Who doesn’t like writing, sucks at grammer but wants to be called a Poet.
A dear friend started calling him writerbabu in his initial writing days not because he wrote great stuff but because whatever he wrote had unbelievable number of ‘gremmar’ mistakes in it. But such teasing could never put Poetbabu down. He kept trying. People laughed at him, threw whatever they had in their hands, at him, sometimes even babies. But he kept moving and today he is here to enlighten you all too.
While it is well known that he is deeply goth, it is not necessary that all visitors be goth too. His dark content appeals to a wide variety of people. He has consistently serviced an extensive friend base on Facebook, and will continue to provide new content in order to do so.
If you have any suggestions, He is very easy to find. Contact him here or on Facebook, he usually doesn’t bite!
Facebook: http: //www.facebook.com/poetbabu
Wordpress: https: //poetbabu.wordpress.com/
You better look for his Posts now.
Mann Bhatia Poems
I Am Afraid
I’m afraid of women pulling a knife at me, and society telling me I must have deserved it. I’m afraid of getting more jail time for the same crime comparing to women.
Sand and sand dunes of sadness. What worth do they have?
Nothing Ever Matters
20 years of blind following, in the name of trust, love and serenity.
So much to love so much to care so much to caress. Angels fly
Nostradamus - I
Only one hand of an angel intact if of his love for himself, could give me the concavity of his palm, because I pour out my complaint.
With the dying sun and moon, starts the process of shadow sea. He who bears will witness, his body laid in heavy stone grave. Behind the veil of sound, earth wept, summer's light disappear.
In The Name Of The Father, The Son And …...
Come out of the rain they say As they take your soul away But they never step aside
Can You Hear Me?
Mother, cant you hear me cry? I am screaming pain but you don’t hear, why? Oh father, don’t you see these scars? I am spreading my arms but you’re always far.
So much to love
so much to care
so much to caress.
penguins slide on snow.