I clutched till fingers bled,Built altars to the dead.Deep down, a stubborn lightOutlived that longest night.Whoever was to blame;I leave that silent name.The ghost of where I’ve been —Moving on, no longer seen. — Jatinder Singh , the lousy poet © Written 1-Oct-2026
{ without rhyme or reason — and totally random } Random Poem Beginning this poem with nothing in particular, Randomly rhyming aiming for the spectacular, Trudging on a horse across the green meadow, “What is that I see?” Behold yonder grey shadow! I tie my teeth, and brush my laces, I wear my candy and […]