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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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Just building stuff

 Spots on the nose of a cat,

Pollen in red flower,

Fields lit with flaming lamps,

The misty ocean.

These are all beautiful things

We seldom notice.

These are all beautiful things.

We create roads to divide,

But the trees hug each other

After growing up.

A plum cake,

Tea,

Cookies;

These are all prettier than most stuff

Built with blood, sweat

And much death.

These are all prettier

Than the pyramids,

The palaces,

The Taj Mahal

Thousands died to complete.

Why do we take so much pain

To build these up?

Can’t we just sip the tea

And call it a day?


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