Hidden Words

INSIDE... Words fail to express What is going inside Stability is melting   In the frozen night.                          Sand is slipping From the clutches of time By distorting the images Which once decorated The entrance of my life.                                                                                                                      SMRITI THAKUR

BAR Why you push me so far? My heart breaks in silent hours. Again I have to follow the same path Where no sound permitted To enter the closed Bar. History repeats itself in a way That seems to harden  Left soften part Remains of memories still lingers  In stubborn space But I know Where and When I have to stop  This lonesome past. What is Truth? What it seems? It is the matter That is beyond any screen...                                        SMRITI THAKUR

                                                                                                                         CREATION              (Published in Quillopia) What a wonderful Creation? Of the Universe you are So Pious! That I afraid to touch So Delicate! Even limits are anxious To cross the edges. Like a beautiful poem You touched the carpet of my soul But the mark of footprints Will be enough for me To find out where you have gone. No matters! You know or not know You'll always remain in my heart That might seemed to you Belong to the people To Whom I not know.               ...

Soul  (Published in Quillopia) Oh my beautiful Soul don't turn your face  like this anymore. You are the pen of my paper where each word  has meaning no more. If I am a curtain you are the wind of love if I am a glass you are the water of each drop.                                       Even wine fails to let me forget                                       the taste of your tongue                                        your eyes are the door                                       where life seems to come.                     SMRITI T...

CROWN Sounds has started to detect its source What is shut behind Has started opening the door. Shadows start finding The sole of existence                                        Where soul seems to boycott With the blind hand of morality. The foul smell of Humanity Reflects itself in the exclusive glass of Insanity Where wiser wear the clothes of clown And Vice calls themselves The King of Crown.                                                                                             SMRITI THAKUR