Bhawini Tripathi Poems

I do not know,
Those favorite flowers,
Which when presented,
Taint the cheeks a blushy pink.
...

Cracked near the dusty mountains,
As the weary sun does bleed
My heart sobs out,
Its music much like a hollow reed.
...

She stood looking right there,
With water bottle and tiffin in her hand.
Only nobody was going school here
It was her little man, starting rendezvous with another land.
...

Away from the spread of conformity,
Away from this blindness of image-driven superficiality,
There lives a girl in this world,
Yet very much beyond it.
...