Mines-of-literature; where the words themselves are Masters, Workers, and Golds.

   The King and his Killer

Under the Umbrella

Regret Once, Rejoice Twice

Who am I?

Bob Dylan is the wrong choice for the right prize

Dylan’s lyrics, though analyzing broadly, couldn't be categorized as a poem because he depends upon his sultry voice and loud music in order to convey his words; in fact, such is not case in the literature. The words are Goddess and they are Virgins.


Lost in search of you

I lost every precious me, In search of you.

“Shh! Walk slowly,” he said, at the top of his breathe, “Else you will wake him up.” “I know! You don’t have to teach me, every time.” He said, rather distressed and unsatisfied, “I wonder, each time you throw your... Continue Reading →

Let the darkness swallow us

We talk, silently, many times; And, we talk with the help of words, many times.

“Will she survive, again, o lord?”

In the midst of the autumn, she suddenly woke and asked, "My love, can you see the magenta leaves falling?"

Lured by Literature

To travel to the path of words, and then, to the path paved with sentences, so far, in my life has always been an arduous journey. May be it was because of the society where I was born; or the... Continue Reading →

My Dear Sir

When you entered, like the amber array of light, In the classroom, I never thought my time will be entwined Within your time, soon.


Every country needs a leader: a leader who can foresee the future; a leader who can move ahead of time; a leader who has the capability to dream has the ability to give hope to his followers and act accordingly.... Continue Reading →

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