Poem is not simple combination of words to verse, but is the expression of soul and mind........
Great people said great things; and yes i do also get inspired. But to me it's not the end. It is like a question to me that, 'now it's your turn'.
'Two sorts of writers posses genius-
One who thinks and one who cause other to think' - quoted.
I am as all you are, holding a half refilled pen, few blank sheet spread over the desk and bitting the nip, starring on the white clean sheet for some reason to make it marked and dirty. Honestly i am little odd; but if you give me that reason that you hate me, my reply will be the same reason, why you should like me. more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
kalyan mech Poems
If and then
If beauty is a gift Then what is deform. To me it is not curse.
Do The sky knows What is wide? Do
I heard babble of many bubble, Blab of their rising and ceasing, Some standby tattle, some on knees singing, Some praise 'mystery antediluviun'; some 'its a daily routine'.
A Thought Of Mine
There are two thing in this earth- One is too scarce and Other is too abundance. Scarce is readily to get but
Did He made that bright glow darken, The illume deity in daily tedium, As her travail jump off bed before He awakes And she naps after he does; it's her quotidium.
The western yellowish is slowly approaching. Cattles have already led their steps back to sheds. Fishermen too withdrew their nets But what she finds sitting beside the lonely river bank!
Down headed mind, heavy with toxic love, With shaking hands to catch dragonflies, Over lured by the taste of frost, Heart hue and cry barrier to million smiles.
I who love you
I who love you For your graceful adorn, Charming character you And your smile drone.
If i were to say There are many things to say. From the tip of hush Till your's good bye.
Who has stolen the smilies From my household garden, Return it: without it even Tulsi is not smiling.
O' soldier, Don't tell me you fought a b...
O' soldier don't tell me you fought a battle. That wrangles of words, this mine that your's, Who's bullets bended, who's arrows offended, One's dead sob or other's drums rattle.
Mother, it's not over
She was born as a lotus pedal, Mud soul, free to get wet and lively, Hunk who hate hunbandry, abandoned her She didn't die as a lily.
Rain Of Remembrance
For you my wandering desire rise Beloved, on my both palm, For you only my vigin love Is weaving hym after hym of psalm.
How can you?
How can you entice My barbarous heart? By a little weeping Or by a shower of babbling mouth.
Comments about kalyan mech
(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)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
If and then
If beauty is a gift
Then what is deform.
To me it is not curse.
If beauty depends on insight view
Then purify your reflection
To me deform needs nothing to nurse.