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@midnightpoesy-blog
Poetry~The Dead Night~
Will morning never come? And wash away the misery of the night? Return the newly wed her virginity? Or remind her, of her one true love?
A casket of morality surrounds the sage House of cards, of the household breaks The artist’s rendition turns history into chaos Directs the film of violence And kills the morning moths.
So that the never relaxes, It never shut its eyes And chaos never reigns. Thi…
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Poetry ~Life In A Morgue~
Poetry ~Life In A Morgue~
Sir, I beg you, Bear the cold This box is now your home Lie there today, tomorrow Before your suitor arrives. Lie straight sir, Let your cleansing begin This darkness unfolds before you Your pain is relieved Catch not a cold, sir The frost awakens And clears the soul Inside your rigid body.
One to ten and furthermore Numbers are drawn A friend in nine You may find Be his guest sir He does not…
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Poetry ~Lying Before Death~
Poetry ~Lying Before Death~
Your suit is now off Look the tears fall on the same ground One boot you laced up The other he polished Both you and he lie hand in hand.
Together at the end of this lengthy road Your rugged hand suffers severe blows You have wiped and swiped And licked those boots He stood there, arms in fold.
Before the fire, I see now One a master, another his slave One kicked, another kicked about One…
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Review ~Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare~
Review ~Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare~
In ‘Sonnet 116’, William Shakespeare places both the positives and negatives of love in contrast. It talks about what love should be and should not be and how lovers should adjust themselves according to different stages in the love cycle. In ‘the marriage of true minds’ the narrator does not accept any hindrances. The first quatrain of this Shakespearean sonnet qualifies love as something that…
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Poetry ~The Pages of History~
Poetry ~The Pages of History~
The pages of history would be blank If historians were to die And poets and artists ruled, But what rules us, are tales Of past glories, kings and priests Battles that drew bloodshed Marriages that never existed Characters, low and crestfallen, Yet heroic, once on these pages Swords and guns were drawn Victories with resounding glory Celebrated ages and ages hence.
But what pages have we spared?
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Poetry ~A Cleansing~
Summers longer than the length of winters Pass like tourists at some location Like hotel beds, restructured and cleansed Blood washes the plains.
The plateaus rise, Like mountains they are tall And refurbished with paints and coats Boots for all, while bare feet they walk
Blood, like some cleansing agent Clears them from our roads Call them germs if you will But the roads need to be built
Buil…
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Poetry ~Living in A Box~
Poetry ~Living in A Box~
This is where I feel tormented A sense of grief fills me My childish mischievous ways Parts, with my body and soul Crippling beliefs of usuality Conveys the sameness A day, after a day, after a day
I urge myself to open the lid Relieve the monotonous sense of fallibility I do not ask for the crowd But for some air That will fill my veins Shun the fragility And uplift me
I see a box and a few more
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Review of 'The Outsider' by Albert Camus
Review of ‘The Outsider’ by Albert Camus
The Outsider is a brilliant novel by Albert Camus. In his ‘afterword’ to the novel, Camus says that Meursault(the main protagonist of the novel) ‘does not play the game of society. He refuses to lie.’ The analysis of The Outsiderand Meursault can be made thus: he is a man whose emotions and feelings are laid bare, naked for all to see. And in this nakedness, he never even bothers to cover…
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Come to think of it You were right All wars have come to a halt…read more
Poetry ~Your Barren Battlefield~
Poetry ~Your Barren Battlefield~
Come to think of it You were right All wars have come to a halt The night wanderers rest The bombs have stopped flying The cannons have lost all vociferousness A slow shrieking of train engines Can be heard from a distance
Also, when I think of it The lands lost haven’t been regained The mobs are still at harvest The tears still flow in unison The dead child lies at the center Of your barren…
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Understanding 'To A Historian' by Walt Whitman
Understanding ‘To A Historian’ by Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman’s poetry collection Leaves Of Grass celebrates simplicy in poetry. In a collection of Free Verse poems Whitman has not only put forward various aspects of human life but the casual nature and the underlying sense of feeling portrayed in his poems turn Leaves Of Grass into one of the finest poetry collections of today.
A range of poems in this collection can be studied as singular…
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Poetry ~Lined Up~
In a line The ants string together Perhaps, There is some march Candles are lit Posters are written Silently and steadily All in a state of mourning
Fools! Little do they realise The entry to their coup Has long been closed. Your dead sisters Laugh at you.
Liked the poem?
Read other poetry A Monster
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POETRY ~A Monster~
Come greet the monster among us He shines, bright in white And gives out an aura of selfless discipline Flocks to him the rich, poor At times even almighty Surfaces from above to Touch his sacred soul An orator, poet or a man of medicine Various shades of great power A monster unlike any other A fearless being, tender at heart Floods, famines and earthquakes Reach out to him He advises them,…
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POETRY ~Together, And After Tomorrow~
Together and after tomorrow Perhaps, peace will be reached Depressions will fly Fires will doze off And in one corner Slowly and silently The ice will begin to restructure itself
Perhaps, both you and I Will never witness this Perhaps, our deaths today And a few more like us, tomorrow Will be sufficient.
Read more of my poetry: The Country Ants
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POETRY ~The Country Ants~
Caught underneath the scrapers They sing a varied tune Unheard. Unfound. Pressed and squashed underneath by your branded slippers
Caught beneath the humdrum Of greater civilisation.
With opium filling the air, Barefeet with crooked grammar Tall tales of short lives From the lower pavements Of greater society.
A sad death note of humanity Told by rough hands
Replacing pens with shovels And lotions…
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The Tender Heart
Broken dreams and shattered glasses We stand amidst the ruin Careless wars that we rage Against the will of our loving heart Guns, grenades and pistols of meaninglessness The man forgets that the caring soul still lives
Fumble on opportunities Make love to the devil Stride on the wrong side of the line And the demon awaits to kidnap you Nurture your soul And hate your once true love
But he forgets
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