An honour received after pleading is equivalent to slander received without pleading.

Ascetic clouds.
No rain dumped.
Distraught souls.
Life on the boil.
A just retaliation
for the misdeeds committed.

A cheerful  face spills life.

Only those who have sinned can truly forgive others.

There should be a pure heart behind the hands of charity.

Sadly, poetry always follows me around like a debt collector. I scribble a line or two here and there out of sheer desperation to divert its constant attention from me.

What pity is there for a worm caught in a broken, bare spider web if the poor thing dies for fear that the eight-legged creature will soon come back to eat it?

Twinkle, but keep a safe distance from everything.

Who are you still waiting for?
Everybody came and left.
They abandoned you here.

One who is patient does not lose.

Every house I saw on the street where you lived seemed to be recounting the events of your life. Your childhood poetry was being sung by the residents, and it gave me the impression that I was floating down a river of happiness.

I'm sorry, but the life you're looking for doesn't exist.

Belief is wealth.

We are fragments of reality.

Every human feeling is a raw work of poetry.

When thoughts invade your mind like ghouls on a dark night, how can you trust it?

Walk lovingly into the crevices of your unpleasant memories so that the bitterness of the past might be replaced with the sweetness of the present.

The onset of a desire signals the onset of a challenge and the onset of a setback.

A profound lyric becomes a powerful wind of steadfast love.
Lifts the hate-filled cloak that has been engulfing humanity.
A new sense of calm and tranquilly descends across the divided society.

Didn't you feel compelled to write poetry right now?
Put yourself at ease.
The sun has risen, and it is now day.
At night, the moon will also rise.
Try writing in the moonlight.
Poetry may arise at any time.

Where should I go?
Why do I go?
if compassion is found in this land.

Vigorously croaking frogs with a crush.
Dark clouds' enlarging shadow.
Values and possessions are washed away by raging flood.

Home.
Room.
Mind.


Everything is empty.

Who are you to be attached to anything when you can't truly like or hate anything?

Poets are made to be vendors of peace.

Avoid touching or prodding anything; if you do, itchy life dust fragments will stick to your skin. Instead, veer over to the side

Lose all you can in this life.
However, if the sagging smile on your face draws all soul-eating spirits to you, you will crown your defeats with glory.

When thou gave up on desire, the slayer of common sense, thou attained greatness.

The chicken crows with pride.

The Sun, predictably, ascends.

The  guy in charge of the chicken's fate chopped its neck, stripped its feathers, and hung it in front of his shop.

Some of the village's ever-lazy and hungry residents walked into the store and gorged themselves on the chicken pieces. They sank to the floor and instinctively gripped their chest.

The chemeleon perched on the compound wall like a bully, ran to the backyard closet to avoid the predictable turmoil that ensued.

Life turns into a festival of divinity when the heart transforms into a conch that blows peace.

After a protracted wait, the first rain of the year has finally arrived.
It has calmed the frazzled thoughts and cooled the soil.
Joy is pouring in abundance everywhere.
The vitality of life has returned.

I only want a small space to scribble down a few lines of poetry that will endure forever.

We believe that someone is in possession of our hearts.

We believe that we are in possession of their goals and dreams.

We believe that the vast majority of people think and live in that way.

Life nowadays can be compared to a dish that smells amazing but tastes bland when you bite into it.

My decisions are broken stances.

When one is defeated within, one puts on a brave face, like a tree stripped of its branches shining brightly in the fading sunlight.