Aspiring to be bilingual Ujjwal essentially breathes, writhes & baths in the sensational shower of poetry. A reckless youth addicted to the bohemian wave......... more »
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From morn to eve
Tabors and trumpets around
Me, always sound;
My heart like a pen wears a nib.
But still newsvendor's cry
Strangles my rhythmic mutiny
Threatens my outflow, blushed with shy
Cuts their wings as they want to fly.
Bitter is palaver to me
And crying pall-bearer's cry in a poet's funeral,
My drooping spirits are but perennial,
In mazurka of madness they dances like a bee.
Life is but a ...