Dewdrops
on the rose:
Soft fingers on the face,
Speak
of tender love.
THE INHERITANCE OF SOLITUDE
THE INHERITANCE OF SOLITUDE by SMITHA VISHWANATH In her poem ‘The Inheritance of Solitude’ Smitha says - I understand now when on my own I...
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WHAT’S HAPPENING? It was one of those sultry afternoons when I found myself at the end of my tether waiting for the electricity t... -
TRIBUTE TO A BROTHER My brother passed away this evening at 6.30 pm at his residence in Mumbai. He was eighty-six years old and ... -
SHAKESPEARE AND CAMUS Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last sy...
1 comment:
Beautifully put!
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