Ask the moon
to look around.
In the depths of the meadow,
I'll be found.

-

He feel her,
When there is gentle breeze at seashore.
When rain drizzle down on grassy meadow.
When sky is stuffed with glittering stars.
When he listen to a song in beautiful park.
Yes...He feel her,
When he go through the pictures,
Which they clicked together.

-

Don't know whether I was walking on that meadow,
Or on a lane of dark memories?
Don't know if the sunlight was burning my skin,
Or was it your memory penetrating beneath?
Don't know was it the drizzle that wet my eyes,
Or your face did the honour?

My life no longer has a vacancy for you,
But my pen no longer decorates any other name,
The fight is no longer about you staying in,
But when will I forget that road to you?
Cry is not about you leaving a void,
But why did you pretend to fill it,
when u were actually stretching it?

-

L ove me vintage style
O ut in a meadow thereon
V anishing breaths at night
E merging finally at dawn.

-

Just an epoch,
As a petrichor of rain,
In a meadow of my life,
You subsisted..

Made me June's shower.

-

my words whisper in the gloom;
in the muted air, under the moon,
through heartless nature in the meadow
would this grief reach to thy home?

-

I will fill these cracks with vibrant colorfull graffiti.
Meadows of contentment will be grown on my heart.
Valleys of joyous flowers will rise from them,that will always remind me not to give up even if this world turns out to be cruel.
You can stab me but you can't take my shine away from me,
You can be mischievous but i won't be doing the same to you.
It took a long time but I have gained a peacefull heart that I will nourish forever.

-

The endless bliss that came over me
Taking me away to a meadow far beyond
Where I used to lie down and let myself be
A place where it's always summer
Where the winds would sing a lullaby and put me to sleep
That's what it felt like, after you made love to me

-

in the green meadow
a sapling asks a question
Why are some leaves brown?

a willow responds:
life is as the winds that blow -
travel staying put

-

Our kashmir
We spend our lives
In the complete mourning
The air is deadlier
The winds are too storming.
From the glaciers
We are listening the Echo
The corpses are
Smartly lying on the meadow.
Blood is harshly Gushing
From the rushy streams
The youth is endlessly
Coming in our dreams.
Our sleep is hindered
Due to the uneven flashes.
Glorious and captivating treasures
Are turning into Ashes.

-