I have a deep love for literature—reading it, feeling it, and shaping my own thoughts into words. Poetry, to me, is a quiet place where emotions find clarity and imagination finds freedom. I write to explore life, love, and the unspoken moments in between.
''In my youth, '' commenced the old man,
''I encountered so many things'',
''And of course, I was highly imbued with feelings of love and joy''.
Dwelling upon each other, the old man continued.
...
I used to stroll along in the pedestrian way,
Most at night times for close of the day,
With an anticipation of being so relax and calm,
And also searching for something like balm.
...
I used to go with idyll all day long,
But now, all I have left is merely to moan.
Beseeching for the most precious gift for dwelling,
Never knew that I have been flawed by loving.
...
I woke up on a Sunday dawn,
And wandered out of the cabin holding intentions,
Of beholding lively visions.
...
She is so stunning that no one resembles her,
And enchantingly adorned with a spell rare,
Spiffs herself up with alluring dresses she wears,
It's her black-thick locks I'm almost aware.
...