Poireinganba Ningombam Poems

Free floating on a plank of half-oblivion,
Merrily does he sway around.
As flamboyant as the cloud,
His laughter fills the vast sky loud,
...

And my poetry died, and mine
Heart no longer sings, as of thine
Minstrel that used to but never did shone.
What does last? A twine o' thine
...

I feel sad for this poor baby pink blossom,
for she thinks she is ugly,
because she isn't tangerine like the others beside her.
Never does she know she's the one who has got my heart,
...

Timeline! Lately, I am made to face the very gruesome realisation about this thing called ‘Timeline'. Every fabric of life events, happy or sad, is being woven treacherously at the very precipice of it. Ten years ago, I was free. Today I am free. Same, yet so different. The whole perspective of life changes at the blink of an eye. The coffee turned darker each and every tickle. The sanely insane mind withered to a state of insanely sane. Sometimes, it almost feels like a long free falling with an ultimate sacrificial death.

Eyes dimmed with experiences and expectations,
and eyes glimmered with hope and anticipation.
...

If Shakespeare's hand had writ the world entire,
Then spectres should arise from every shade;
If Keats had kindled every mortal fire,
Then Love in every rose would ne'er have fade.
...