Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Devanshi Khetarpal Poems
Twinning Times are Brimming. Coffee sinks.
Scratch My Soul
If you scratch my soul, You will get scraps of Jane Austen. If you scratch scraps of Jane Austen, You will get attain the traits of a raconteur.
Pokey Nose (Or What Happened To Little C...
'Don't walk around with a pokey nose', says Little Charlie's mother, 'Don't booger-hunt your pokey nose', says Little Charlie's brother. 'Wipe your pokey nose with a tissue or don't bother, Sneeze hard your pokey nose, ' says Little Charlie's father.
From Dawn To Dusk
The tenebrous tiring tipsy night strutted away, As the sun tarried to commence its dynamic day. A bluish beam lingered in the air, But something amidst the bluish beam,
The Wind In The Breeze
The wind in the breeze is like Life within a sea wave, Tea within a cup, Dreams within sweet slumber.
Hole In My Soul
When ideas run away, When the pen can't write any faster, When the inked pages of books fade away, When the colours become dolorous,
The Sauce and The Saucer
Sauce: Hello! Saucer: Hello! Sauce: Are you copying me? Saucer: Are you copying me?
Silver crowns Turn onyx In black Hell waters.
Assurance, Endurance, Brilliance
A helping hand, cascading upon aureate drops Of devout, seamlessly stretching benedictions of love and trust. Here comes a guru, one who makes a child reach the mountain tops. One who moulds a soft core yet which stands fearless at its crust.
Out In The Blue, Men Dive And Rue
The gargantuan blue field espouses the horizon On the tip of my fingers. Gives it a whirl, a shake, hems it up To create a pinafore
Kinsmen Of Another Breed
His boat queued on the wave At arms's length. And he was stuck in moments of serene soliloquy. And then he clung onto my boat.
The traveller marches on the vale, Of sights around, some green, some pale. He travels around, going to town, From when the sun's up an' till it's down.
The Flower Tots
There's a mill under the leaves, beside that dew, Where the flower tots, labour in mirth, And their unknown carriers, stand in the queue, Waiting for the buds to take birth.
The Golden Bird
There shalt be a day, When the land of the Ganges be potent. It shalt burst into a flame And conquer the planet
Comments about Devanshi Khetarpal
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Like the floor.
Don't know what.