Abhishek Kumar Singh
Biography of Abhishek Kumar Singh
Abhishek Kumar Singh a.k.a. Poe'94 is best known for his mystical poetry & graphical illustrations also is looking ahead to develop his interests in Hip-hop/ Rap genre.
An aesthete who comes from middle-class family, born in a small city Satna, Madhya Pradesh. His father at the time manages the production department of Jaypee Cement, Sonbhadra, Uttar Pradesh & his mother is a house-maker. He completed his schooling from S.J.S. Public School, Rae Bareli which his hometown & now he is pursuing " Electrical Engineering" from Babu Banarasi Das University, Lucknow.
He was published in the years 2013: " POETSTUFFERS: AN ANTHOLOGY" & 2014: " AWAKENING" through a Facebook group, " POETSTUFFERS" at blurb.com in Canada. Sincere thanks to poetess, " KIMBERLYNNE DARBY NEWTON" , " MARSLEY HOLDERMAN" & the poet-cum-publisher, " BRIAN WRIXON" .
Abhishek Kumar Singh's Works:
Abhishek Kumar Singh Poems
I've been called, again, to another time & place. To serve another purpose.
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.
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
I dream & I dream rare, but for hours i be there in It's all dark, in its own color,
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,
You are a sprouting seed, between the two branches of a tree That grew ever before time started, kissing the heavens of eternity!
I'm a rag-picker,
i seek for shines
Till it's dark in a trash heap,
dogs, cats & rats are my family
On the corner of street,
we enjoy whatever we eat
We wake up as the city-clock sings,
the sirens of this daily war
Together we fight &
together we breath.