The Old Crowd

Where is the old crowd now? The old poets, those storytellers... Where are they that never took a bow, quiet, sincere, bold creators? Oh, shallow and pretentious these days every Tom, Dick and Harry gallivant the streets! Poetry replaced with hollow syllables and phrase - not dripping with soul as they used to be. I'm…

Moving on…

There's a part of me that aches for you, a heart within that breaks for you; with every warm memory - now a frozen peak, reignited, crying rivulets and lakes for you... © Isha Garg

Unsung Lovers

Going through one of my oldest journal, I found these precious, once yellow petals of a rose, that I used to ink as precious moments in. Nostalgia led to this little line... I know what you're thinking, dear reader - something different? What can I say? I just feel a change in the wind. Ishaisms…

A certain breeze…

There's a place where I go where a certain breeze blows, where every petal and every thorn, every copse and every grove, for the lost one does mourn... for the loved one, does mourn.... There's a place where I go, where the birds sing a quaint song of immortal, evergreen folklores in music unheard before,…

BEREFT

How can you tell my soul, to not dwell, on your thoughts; that you aren’t worth my time, are worth naught? I cling to you, cling to the good you once did, the good you once were, the words you said, the good I knew; opening up my reserve, my heart to you, like a…