Sudhanshu Shekhar Poems

Broken pigeon is my soul,
Unused not saved from devil,
Magic sticks from stars are high,
But I complete with the broken pigeon,
...

The moon asked to golden book,
Don't follow me in the afternoon,
At that time i am sleeping,
You were bold and italic writing,
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No one imagine,
I have imagination of tree on earth,
And whose shadow is an art,
Grown the tree,
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Remembring the past,
I created a lazy magic,
That can see the time watch,
The time of present, past and future,
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Poetry is an art,
Before you critic,
It dissolves like solvent,
In our eyes we don't see,
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What is a trick?
Is it an activity? ,
Or is an imaginable machine,
Suppose we draw a line or circle,
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Smelling the same,
Before the human cell,
Pluck or don't pluck,
It is the natural game,
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In the kitchen house,
A sound of vegetables,
Whose leg and arm are jumping?
Making a noise of freedom,
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It is a shiny afternoon,
The iron window was deep old,
The row of red color desk was to sold in owl market,
We were not present everywhere,
...