seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bosnia & Herzegovina
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from T1
seen from China
seen from China
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Thailand
seen from Thailand
R K Singh, The Former Union Minister’s Outburst On NDA Costs Heavily, Suspended from The BJP For Anti-Party Activities
Former Union minister Raj Kumar Singh, who has been in the news for his outbursts against the ruling NDA in Bihar, was suspended from the BJP for “anti-party” activities, a party leader said. Read More...
My newest poetry book published in October 2025 and available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.in/-/hi/dp/B0FV8WXDSB
My poetry book published last year.
DEATH
We do not know
who cares for us
live or dead
nor do we know
our end
now or ever
which meeting with whom
is the last
we do not know
when darkness gushes
in from the breach
sky sinks down
as strangers we come
as stranger we pass
like withered grass
uncelebrated
unmourned, unknown
-R K Singh
https://verseum.mystrikingly.com/blog/poems-by-ram-krishna-singh-india?fbclid=IwY2xjawIiZsBleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHdfrmyDlJ8uRhLMVqRe-O14SOSg_BrFD1UX3NnuzpYi4dG5uCToai20p9g_aem_Vf2apZCe2F7d_frme-XW1g
GELID MORNING
Gelid Morning
written by: R. K. Singh
@profrksingh
Her gelid look haiku refuse to rise– winter’s landscape twirled leaves on the wind’s waves itch fissured memories
words shape no sense and mind spins helplessness in cold quietude bones creak in aging cage await final decay
ENEMY
Back to the wall
chained to the past
enemy pulls
where is the breath
of fresh air
to move forward?
--R K Singh
Five Poems by Prof. Ram Krishna Singh (R. K. Singh)
Five Poems:
BODY’S NO PICNIC
Not too many issues
yet enough to upset
the mind of men and women
in postlapsarian world:
she blames me for changing size
shifting shape and cracking bones
aching joints and sleeplessness
menopausal ups and downs
she kicks me out of bed
saying my body’s no picnic
I know it’s difficult
to be a woman and wife
working and making home
I may be no saint
in your eyes but I never
tried to remake you
in my own or God’s image
I can’t give birth like you
nor can I stop the changes in you
I’ve no miracle pill
Your body, your anger
I love you as you are
let’s carry no useless weight
TOO FAR THE SUN’S SKY
Perfumeless my bustan
I couldn’t be a letter of the masters
passed years in the soul’s waste
to be what I could never be
the few bonuses now burden
like the body’s sickness stick dust
the wrinkled skin, the holes in vests
herald sorrows of Venus
too far the sun’s sky to borrow
warmth to keep the rose smelling
A MUTED VOICE
I can’t hear my self
their noises erase my world
choices are denied—
questions of being wound me
courage and strength fade away
they mute my voice
distract us from the truth
crowns change with the wind
and they play chess with our lives
they feed us dust and potions
in their new temples
arouse their magic deities
make us yell loud
and hang us upside down
POLITICS OF DECEPTION
Roaring guns and flying bombs
pronounce total death on earth
the world withers away with
the suns of science, challenging
the universe and time with
cankerous creations
viral revolution
racial elimination
structures of deception
media and power traps
in the name of faith and past
bullying the masses, seek
fresh promises, renewed
enthusiasm wrapped in
a dream scroll mythologized
to spotlight a Trump, Modi
Putin or Netanyahu
tap national consciousness
for divine descent to make
life happen once again
CHEERS!
There they tuck into turkey dinners
here we talk about free light and water
politics of thanksgiving for more
polarization, more separation
more violence, more religion, more freedom
in the new temple make more pockmarks
to start afresh fiction of wonder
crowning wolves as gods and goddesses
Lothlorien Poetry Journal Edited by Strider Marcus Jones Poet - Publishes poetry and fiction online and in print periodically. https://loth
My Poems published in Das Literarisch
1
ABRUPT NOTES
Intentionally layered
internally fragmented
queer antics:
she builds up her own
sexual toolkit to prove
how coward man is
she sees a rapist
in each man detests
the male smell but trusts
one night stand
with deep thrust
long erections
and climax control
for blood to soak smoothly
she sits shrouded
in her see-through pink gown
on the terrace
inviting autumn winds
for longer stopover
just to accuse the artist
of invading her body
she curses a young bull
for obstructing her way
in the street shouts at hawkers
and, yet another
at eighty re-imagines
fading memories
with snaky radiance
to break a new dawn
my friend says
the dynamics change:
there’s a before
and an after
to feel life
I say yes, but I’m tired
of walking and writing
what I watch
I’m no tout to comfort
or restore the faith
of a dwindling flock in heat
culling is convenient
2
SOLITUDE
Little birds
collect on the railing
seek no water or food
just talk how the day went
and fly back to their nests
here I am
slouch at the 6-inch screen
stay cut off from sunlight
dream fertile solitude
3
TANKA
Unquenched thirst
more and more indulgence:
momentary pleasure
she says it's enough now
rein the horse and seek the missed
***
Half-drunk women
on one side of the road
pimps on the other
ready to seize first-timers
to the tin box by street lamps
***
Standing on a cloud
look through an open doorway:
desires awakened
before I could step inside
the door closed, I missed my chance
***
At the swimming pool
he asks if he could borrow
her underwear just
to feel her from inside
with fidgeting currents
***
Await setting of
burning sun and arrival
of night to go out
for a beer with chips
to soothe her hurt spirit
***
God has become
a habit in helplessness:
faith a deception
when unable to enjoy
love, life and wonders of world
***
With dumbbells in hand
he logs in YouTube to build
arm muscles and says
he's off social media
to make new relationships
***
Baffling my brain
mosquitoes find my vein
in night's darkness
they land without humming
suck blood with swollen itch
--R. K. Singh
