Since it's a worldwide lockdown,
I am finally working on my book.

My character is a psycho clown,
Whose hobby is to kill and cook.

He loves to keep his steak brown,
Alongwith mullets and snooks.

In daylight he works downtown,
At night he hit the targeted nook.

Put on his costume with killer crown,
And play with his lady preys to hook.

Seeing the weapon preys gets frown,
All he does just to see the victim look.

Later he frees them and apologizes to cause intentional breakdown,
Hidden face knows, to change someone's gloomy stance what it took!

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A sonnet written for love, without being in love,
having once been in love, and then out of love
isn't an easy endeavour. You start by remembering
the last time you felt you were in love, for real.
Was it the last time or the first? Or somewhere
in between the two. Your memory betrays,
and you decide it is better to write a sonnet on
anything but love. But without love, can there
really be a good sonnet? You flip through
your past loves like the long lost pages of
a beloved book, unable to decide which one to
read, which one to skip, and before you could
even know, those fourteen lines are over
and unlike your past, you're not quite the lover.

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I love to feel u

Drape you around me,
like my garments

Tight_____ at times loose
Very close, or,
Far enough to let me moose ;
To protect me from cold in winters
But, give cooling textures in summers ;
Sometimes, as a regular humdrum
Or as occasional delirium ;
Flipping through your different shades
To suit my needs in place

Wanting you to be just there
In times of gay and despair

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मैं English सी
वो Hindi सा
मिल गए साथ
हो गए Hinglish सा

मैं Continental सी
वो Traditional सा
मिल गए साथ
हो गए Cosmopolitan सा

मैं Western सी
वो Indian सा
मिल गए साथ
हो गए Indo-Western सा

मैं Urban सी
वो Rural सा
मिल गए साथ
हो गए Rurban सा pranshi प्राँशी

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{ A Shakespearean sonnet }

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• LOVE SONNET •

My eye slipped past your dazzlin' face,
My hand missed all your subtle grace,
My mind ignored your sumptuous thought,
But my heart, oh, it missed you naught.

For though it has no sight nor voice,
To my heart there was but one choice.
My brain may dream of castles in the sky,
My eyes flitter to glints of a magpie,
My ears caress songs beyond the sea,
But my heart, sweet heart, belongs only to thee.

Time that it needs to grow strong,
To whisper in my ear, to find the song,
To shower my eyes with what is true,
To tell my mind it’s always been you.

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Beyond the veils of dreams ,
I would like to fly real ,
High and surreal .
Chasing the wind
With my wings .

Using power against the wrong
And kindness to be strong .

Playing with the birds,
Dancing with mermaids ,

Fighting like a child ,
Giving bruises very mild .
Loving like mothers ,
Always being together .

Beyond the veils of dreams ,
I would like to live real .

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Many Poetries are not
Mirror Images of Author's Soul,
But are Reflections of
Reader's Fantasies as a whole.

You write on reader's choice,
To make them
Elated and happy,
Satisfying their Appetite.

Neglecting your own Preference,
Mood, Emotions.
Showing their Beginnings and
Endings dense.

Sometimes, write to keep pace
With Life.
Others, to give reader's face
A Smile.😊

Many Poetries are not
Mirror Images of Author's Soul,
But are Reflections of
Reader's Fantasies as a whole.

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