top of page


By Abhipreet Rao

From diary where my secrets hide,

Have a name of my love, my twilght.

Calling her ,'her', is better,

Because she is too good to be called mine.

Here is the poem which might give you her a glance, a mere beam of her beauty which is twice or thrice. If I call myself a sun ,she must be bright light.

If I call myself a moon, she must be pleasurful night.

If I call myself hers,

Will she be mine?

I have a river of words,

this paper is too small to write.

Respecting the hawkin,

Respecting the einstein,

I discovered that the time hault,

Whenever I looked in her eyes.

Ran faster,

When I am at her beside.

Drags slowly,

When she is all far behind.


This is how time travels defnes.

Devoted me to her,

Will she make me her insight?

This might look like the end of poem,

But it's just a alluring horizon sight.

Alot of syllabus to cover.

Alot of questions to fullfll.

But you can answer in 3 words,

Or your smile is better to defne.

Readers thinks I am a lover

Let them know 'her' is love of mine!

By Abhipreet Rao

16 views2 comments

Recent Posts

See All


By Hemant Kumar बेशक ! वो मेरी ही खातिर टकराती है ज़माने से , सौ ताने सुनती है मैं लाख छुपाऊं , वो चहरे से मेरे सारे दर्द पढती है जब भी उठाती है हाथ दुआओं में , वो माँ मेरी तकदीर को बुनती है, भुला कर 


By Hemant Kumar जब जब इस मोड़ मुडा हूं मैं हर दफा मोहब्बत में टूट कर के जुड़ा हूं मैं शिक़ायत नहीं है जिसने तोड़ा मुझको टुकड़े-टुकड़े किया है शिक़ायत यही है हर टुकड़े में समाया , वो मेरा पिया है सितमग


By Ankita Sah How's pain? Someone asked me again. " Pain.." I wondered, Being thoughtless for a while... Is actually full of thoughts. An ocean so deep, you do not know if you will resurface. You keep

bottom of page