Abhishek Kumar Singh
Biography of Abhishek Kumar Singh
Abhishek Kumar Singh is best known for his mystical poetry. The sunset lover poses questions to the oblivion & existence. An aesthete who comes from an Indian middle-class family, born in a small city Satna, Madhya Pradesh who is currently pursuing Electrical Engineering.
This creative introvert was published in the years 2013: " POETSTUFFERS: AN ANTHOLOGY" & 2014: " AWAKENING" through a Facebook group, " POETSTUFFERS" at blurb.com in Canada by Brian Wrixon Books.
Abhishek Kumar Singh's Works:
- Haiku -new-
Abhishek Kumar Singh Poems
One Last Time
Feels like I've just come, over here. With a new pen and a paper. I still know not, many of you.
I'M Still There
Should I begin or not? Where should I begin? I began moments ago, I'm still there, at the first lines.
I'm wrapping-up a gift, I'm wrapping it up, slowly. With a pair of bare hands, slowly, I'm a few days late though.
#2 Newspaper Black-Out Poetry: 'Rude Sh...
The recent fall has hit, after the past months fell by. Have fallen from close,
Where wild sedges with prickly bushes entangle; High over the eucalyptus woods the sun spangles— On the thick & thin branches—all their leaves dangle.
I dream & I dream rare, but for hours i be there in It's all dark, in its own color,
Awake & away, my long limbs walk; with the rising dust, in the darkest shadow of light. And O! the silence! Lip-less I talk thee,
I'M & I'M
I'm unborn & banshee never sang for me. My songs have no music My voice has no sound
dheere dheere jo ye hawa aai hai, is zameen mein ek sard lekar wo phool jo mene thaa chuna in haanthon mein, wo khoon sa beh raha hai mujhe dard dekar
The time swiveled the clocks, the clocks swiveled the time; for sake of another rhyme.
A Mystery Poem
I often wonder about, the first second & the last. Where are the answers? Of these unasked questions that I ask?
#4 Newspaper Black-Out Poetry: 'Egypt A...
Egypt ants in Libya, called 21 Egyptian Christians. Said, 'There is no choice, but to create coal,
Time kept dawdling, many cradles were swung. And now it was me crying, strung by smiling souls,