Does it make any difference? Nothing much interesting about me. In the end we all gonna die! more »
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Utsav Patel Poems
Will o' The Wisp
On a grimmest evening... Salty breeze was blowing... Cacophony of birdcall was provoking... That aroma;
Killer Inside Me
Inside me.... A killer is king... This reign will make me strong... Strong enough to heal my wounds...
Disgrace Of My Existence
I was a teddy once now i am a junk sitting in a junk yard I found myself like a
I can not decide... This is isolation or its loneliness... Is it emptiness? ? What is that? ?
In a room with mosquitoes.. With Dusty room.. With loneliness... With a fan which seems so dead...
It feels good to walk away from apathy... Where nothing is last forever... 'If you solicitous about something.. And you don't get it.. Leave it... Omnipotent will give it at correct time and situation..'
'E# Of My Heart'
A song in your sacred veins... Lyrics in your sapphire eyes... Tune in your windy hairs... Beat in your tiny heart...
That precious moment that I will always cherish... That moment... When I spent hours and hours In my room...
What Is All About It?
When I see a very poor boy, starving, tears in his eyes, I gave him some food, that serene moments were make me feel like 'todopoderoso', to raise his being, to raise his soul. What is all about it? When I give flowers to my beloved..
Echoes Of Love (in the memories of Kurt...
Yesterday i slept... Slept with 'all apologies'... That echoes still in my head... I love the way you said..
Thodi sone si dhoop he... Thodi chandi si chandni... Thoda gam tumhe bhi he... Thoda mujhe bhi...
Its Make Me Insane
Everyday it passes by... Through my rigid life... Even without your insipid glance... Even without your wither fortune..
The Beautiful Let Down
'The Beautiful Let Down' Once upon a time... There was a boy...
We been friends till my 17th birthday... Your tick tick... Intimation with my soul... Your dial more attractive than moon...
Comments about Utsav Patel
(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)
Will o' The Wisp
On a grimmest evening...
Salty breeze was blowing...
Cacophony of birdcall was provoking...
Which was coming from your hair...
As if you are everywhere that exists...
The oceans between us...
Anguished claspings of hands...
But silences that remained...
Downcastly gazing at your foot...
Underneath my legs sand was creeping gently...
Everything that carries me to you...
Symphony of that tides took us with them...
To that skysill;
To that wee ships...
To those beautiful isles...
But i couldn't move...