Friday, May 1, 2020



Hopes Or Dupes?

I saw on the road’s ethnic clashes, ethics lost
batons of caste and religion bequeathed to the youth,
manners uncouth.
Humanity fading into oblivion?
All melancholy news.
Lurking ambush.
Whether wither war wither
or RIP peace?
Upon the respect of togetherness, hatred chides
no rebukes or chides.
Unison spreads goodwill,
Let human chains ameliorate.

Poetry Of My Own

I don’t expect a plaque of engraved praises
for my pen wields what my heart feeds
fragments of inspiration from here and there,
a lyrical ensemble of articulated assembly.
Nor do I welcome negative chimes
that retards the creativity of the self
to write fake poetry of applause;
I rejoice in the pristine thoughts of self-driven construes,
my verses sans metaphors, alliterations and imagery
are but images that mirror expressions of the heart,
they portray a profusely profound ethereal bond.


The night rains of emotions.
Seething arguments,
war of words,
exhausted energy.
Silence spills
Roses ascend thorns
ego wrapped into a bundle
warmth of love in cuddle,
the bliss of new happiness,
time—a mere frozen nothingness.


BRINDHA VINODH:  A homemaker poet and former copyeditor. She holds a masters in Econometrics and resides currently in the United States of America with her family. Her poems have been published in magazines and ezines regularly.

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