I’m gonna die here. This is my Capitol. Do. Not. Stab... me in the back, now, Percy Bruté!
Tag: Nostalgia
Séance
But I'm not entitled anymore, to express. I've lost that claim that comes with a certain belongingness, so I remain silent instead and watch it rain, over the hungry mountains... for, I know, the dust will settle.
Cave
I feel my way through the cave of the past when fain feet lead reluctant
More than words…
How can some moments be defined; how flying birds be pushed to cage; how breathing dreams in song confined, when mortal fetters they have ravaged? Of sunken ships I no more sing, I only sing of birth - waves of sorrow, low tides bring - let me make friends with mirth! Novelty, jubilant and infallible,… Continue reading More than words…
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… Continue reading The Old Crowd
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,… Continue reading A certain breeze…
Ishaisms 
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