Rosmin Elsa Mohan

Rookie - 158 Points (21st December / New Delhi)

Rosmin Elsa Mohan Poems

1. ' Arike '... So Close! 8/16/2012
2. ' Diya ' 1/23/2012
3. ' It Could Never Have Been Better... ' 8/18/2013
4. ** December ** 12/14/2011
5. A Toast To Poetry 3/21/2012
6. Balloons... 3/30/2012
7. Beau... 4/18/2013
8. Being A Researcher... 5/25/2016
9. Black & White 2/11/2015
10. Cold 6/5/2014
11. Crossing The Bridge 3/22/2012
12. Cry 9/10/2015
13. Death... 1/23/2012
14. Dreams In Prussian Blue 1/23/2014
15. Fish 6/24/2014
16. Heaven... 2/27/2012
17. It’s Life Indeed 8/20/2013
18. Just Me... 5/23/2014
19. Life' S Not All A Bed Of Roses! 8/7/2011
20. Morning Bliss 3/19/2016
21. My Rain... 3/27/2014
22. Pluralities 2/13/2013
23. Rendezvous 9/5/2014
24. Renewed Grounds 2/23/2012
25. Ripples Of Love 3/15/2016
26. Silence 1/10/2012
27. Staccato.. 3/20/2013
28. Take Away 10/11/2013
29. The Counterpoint 8/5/2012
30. The Mask 10/5/2012
31. The Mirror 10/5/2012
32. The Shore’s But A Sea Apart! 2/6/2012
33. The Three Phases... 2/13/2013
34. Tiffin Tiffany 2/23/2012
35. Time 3/19/2012
36. Who Am I? 1/30/2012
37. Why … Why Not? 4/11/2012
38. Wings Of Light 8/6/2015
39. You, Me, We … 10/29/2014
Best Poem of Rosmin Elsa Mohan

Silence

I once dreamt of an open field,
The bareness of which alone did shield,
A shadow so frail, in a shadow as such
Silence.
I thought as much.

I felt it again on my bed at night
Darkness; through which I saw the light
Silence - to feel; and to feel so weak,
Silence, I think I heard her speak.

The crowd through which I made my way,
Gave me a second to poise it through
Shouts around, though I felt them nay,
The Me within, in silence too.

The hours of solace so gifted in tune,
A language unworldly, (beyond the moon!)
To realize it ...

Read the full of Silence

Death...

I loved candles. Now I know why.

The only sound I could hear was my own heart beat. The morning seemed no longer bright. For a fact, Room No.903, commonly known as the ICCU at AIIMS, had no windows. Morning and nights equally smelled of antiseptic. I had started to forget the smell of my skin. The needle that pierced the epidermal tissues offered no sensation after all. The insanity of the entire room as though reflected on me, as I had started to become a vegetable.

It was last Tuesday

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