siddharth singh.
siddharth singh. Poems
siddharth singh. Biography
Born on the 30th of August 1974, Siddharth Singh graduated in science from Maharaja’s college, Jaipur in 1996. Currently working as the director, Gentle Footcare (p) Ltd, a company engaged in footwear manufacturing. His first memories of having written something notable and original dates back to when he was 17. Dream, Greed and World On Fire ar ...
siddharth singh. Comments
ur poem now and then is awesome. it deserves a 10++ * 10++. u write beautifully. lucky to have a talented friend like u.
Hey Sidd, I hope you know that your my favourite poet love anjali
S mart I ntelligent D aring D reamer H onest A dmirable R emarkable T actful H earty S uper I nnovative N onchalant G racious H ilarious hey Siddharth, your simply a wonderful writer. I love all your writings from day one, theres a lot of sincerity in all what you try to portray. Wonderful and keep writing like this. This is what I felt about you love anjali
now and then would be my favourite but i recommed you to write in urdu and hindi as well as i feel readers like us can understand the intensity of poetry in the mentioned languages.my favourite hariwansh rai bacchan's 'madhushala'.
The Best Poem Of siddharth singh.
A Rag Picker.
I came into this world
there wasn't a celebration,
there was no cradle to swing
i was just damned to starvation.
Never did i go to school,
never could i play a game.
Was only destined to bear
the enduring pain.
Half a pant covered me
be it the searing summers,
or i be shivering in the
cold winter's rain.
Grew up on the streets
became a rag picker.
That tag stuck to me
more like a bad sticker.
I went to work each day
embedded in anguish.
from their cars they
resented me
like cheap rubbish.
Once there was a crime
the police thought was mine.
I was beaten up with disdain,
I was literally being slain,
yet not a single eye
looked away in shame.
I kept crying, and pleaded
sir please, it's not me, it's not me
but no one was willing to see.
When he was caught
they just left me to be,
the rag picker i that
always shall be.
I cleared for them
their garbage but
no one patted me
and not a soul cried.
Not a soul came to me
asking me why?
Afterall,
I was just a rag picker
born to die.
Clearing all their garbage
there would lie.
' copyright 2009 siddharth singh.'
siddharth singh. Popularity
siddharth singh. Popularity
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5/17/2022 8:21:53 PM # 1.0.0.950
i would give u a score 100/10 your poems let me think its like writing a book you think carefully about the words u pick and int pick out random words u inspire me a lot with my poetry tnx a lot.