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
Heart-broken with wounds — not yet scars, The bloody dagger still stuck in the back, With pristine tears welled up in the raging rain! But O Storm! Don’t you be so proud! You don’t know — what stuff I’m made of ! — Jatinder Singh , the lousy poet © Written 6-Sep-2017
Roses are not just red, Violets — not quite blue, This world that we live in, Is shrewder than the shrew! Smiles don’t mean always happy, And frowns don’t mean one’s down, People here judge too quickly, Our feelings — they bring us down! Roses — yellow, black and red, Violets — white, cream and […]