Diversely abled, deaf but not dumb The nature might shape them so With smile or frown they adore their crown But to the world unable
Author: Ekta Sachdeva
The Annoying Doorbell
Relaxing peacefully on Sunday Running riot doorbell screamed me awake Racing mind wished unwanted guest goes away Ruckus created was his mistake. Everytime, I fell
Needle and Thread
The needle tugging taut through thread Piques curiosity to tread As the thread of silk pools in spool Emerges some wizardry cool Tailoring love and
Leisure of a Hamock
As the sun glares on the sands of beach Rendezvous cocooning sluggishly On hammock with nature, blithe lounging. The soft breeze of palm trees sway
Vile Chalice
In smithereens philtre immersed Chalice pressed to curious smile Doting heart tizzy in hypnotic alcove slaking thirst. Ethereal gurgles beguile Gossamer delusions echo Bewitching cyan
Caparisoned Steed
He surveyed the cavalcade and knights sprucedNeighed and clanked hoof on the breast of the earthSinewy nerves peerless to cimeterCharged cohort fronts the army of
The Purple Heart
The lone black fighter amid a white platoon A shy giant, Doris Miller from Waco Roused by the Japanese strike on Pearl Harbor Knocked down
Bohemian at Heart
Like a free bird, set to sing her own song She decided to shun the mundane chores Thirsty she, wants to hit the misfit gong
Service Before Self
Life is imbued with a purpose To strive selflessly for bretheren An exceptional credo, quite momentous. History is a witness to glorious lesson With the
Beethovian Handwritten Sin
Stumbled upon handwriting of Beethoven In chaotic disarray his notes were written When asked, “Should this be an F or G here?” “Oh! I don’t
Before you Speak
Before you speak, do you ponder Over the course your words will take And all its ramifications? Before you speak, do you weigh your words
Take it Easy on Life
Take it easy on life Why a maddening rush? Why at all to worry? The sails might not be smooth But wait, do not hurry.
My Wanderlust Ink
As my wanderlust ink runs wild to kiss The ruffling parchment waiting to embrace The words do spill never a chance to miss To win
Farmers: Our Treasure Trove
In the long day he sweats in the heat Gathering watering unswerving From morning till evening he labours The space he counts is a vale
The Bucolic Bliss
Along the pasture in the summer June Where did the labouring shepherd boy lay? On the craggy mountain he sits gazing Where the little white
Once We’ve Learnt
Once we’ve Learnt not to fight Sans any bitterness The life will be a smooth sailing Isn’t it? Isn’t it Easy for us To let