Never write a poem to undo the mistakes of an obsolete older one.It would be like using hate as the antidote to love,And it never can be.

To be honest,

But all I have got right now is the echo of my own voice inside the tunnel and those of people reaching out, from their respective tunnels.

Word revival

They handcuffed the word Yester night, with the charge of being archaic. It is sin, to leave such a word of beauty, to rot in the past. I shall bail the word out, for yester night makes all the sense in the world. I can hear the word melt in my mouth. Yester night, I... Continue Reading →

Mustarding up courage

I kept thinking about the possibility; of hibernating, nice and balled up comfortably inside the black coat and yellow layers of a mustard seed.This was the new plan.

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