I find that it is better the imperfections than the perfections. The imperfect cause us to treat our hearts and file away all hate, indifference, fear and rebuke. The imperfections cause us to love all and celebrate all including peace and happiness. An imperfect life is brought to perfection then by the willingness of the…
My three good friends, smile with me. Cheer me, my brilliant ones. Colours, give the world much sense. Like perfection. My three good friends. This is a cherished photo I took completely by chance. At first, I hated how simple it looked and how obvious it might seem to take such a shot. But…
I see pavements. I see beauty on trodden faces. I see art. The grounds inspiring dancers’ hearts. I see movement. I see the passing of man to give forth children. I see lessons. I see them etched on broken stones. I see life. Generations immortal on chiseled earth.
Looking at these pictures, I hope you get to understand the beauty of ancient art and life!
Beckoned, My beckoned one. Soullessly searching. Randomly acting. Away, The wind takes, Its favourite lace. Yes, this poem is all about pollination. The single pollen that is taken away from the swaying branches of its mother. To a better world? Who knows!
The sun, It renders me, Complete! The sun, Captured free, Renew! The Earth, My home, It moves!
Seated on ebony waves, Afloat on elegant wings, Pretty rose on water, A special dose of colour, We should remember to keep.
Flowers amaze me! And I know I have said that many times before but, its very true. They come in different shapes and all equipped to survive. There is a broad array of colours out there, more than I can ever capture. Still, I guess, I am satisfied with the little I have around me! Especially…
This picture would have definitely needed more colour. But I love leaving my pictures unedited. And there is something very beautiful about that little hint on an otherwise stale background. Like that of the pretty yellow Dahlias!
We want to be something else. Like a rose. When our wings fall far apart. Rosette. We want to be kissed high. Like a bird. When our life is never dry. Rosette. We want to be something else. Like a rose. When our petals never close. Rosette.
Bright beautiful sky, Purple friend up high. Welcome me near, So when I see her, My Mirror friend and I, Share whispers. That say, ‘You are A bright beautiful sky.’