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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
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The light in us all

 I'm an inexperienced artist with too much paint on my hands,

I'm a new fisherman letting go of all the big catches.

Yet I try to paint,

Yet I try to fish;

Like a cupid without arrows

Throwing his bow instead,

Like a fish in the gull's mouth

Hoping to see water again.

The canvas looks prettier without me painting on it,

The fishermen catch more without me on the team.

Yet I try to paint,

Yet I try to fish.

I painted what seemed like a splash of random colours

And threw it into the bin.

They found it from the bin and called it abstract art.

I used a net instead of a rod

And they made fun of me.

But some of them used it

And called me a genius.

I smiled

And walked to my room and laughed

As hard as I could.


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