Desi Comments Poems

We at Desi Comments provide a wide collection of poems in many categories. These poems are a very useful in expressing your feelings and that too in a rhythmic manner. Just browse through the categories and enjoy the classic works by some extra talented people. And if you think you have the talent to be a poet, just use the submit button and send the poem to us and we will make sure it features on your very own website.

Latest Poems


For human face of death
umbilical cord need not
extend. The darkness takes care of
unblemished ghost of sun.
Intergalactic scan remains unseared,
trench warfare continues unabashedly.

Between brothers, the greed calls
for incendiary attacks, for total annihilation.
To achieve the illusion, the blurred statement
feeds the imagination. Deaddiction starts
a race. Deafness of the tunnel. The black
knees crawling on coals.

No night was safe from the condemned suicide.
The creator had the absurd designs.
Why not now the confessional stick,
to beat the darkness? Memory of light
becoming stronger. Give me your hand
to reach the ceremonial peak.

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A dented version of an old grudge,
blackened lips with an elite song,
your relentless search ends in
a terminal shock, nursing a green wound.

That anguish was still there, and the wild anger
sprawled on hidden fractures, false teeth,
and twisted spy glasses. Sky falling silent
in terrible gloom of centuries.

Blindfolded we are led for a ceremony
of total dedication, drinking opiates
from the cupped hands of a silver god,
with alien innocence and silent submission.

I stare at the changing colors of world
shifting like summer dunes,
dancing on the graves, in dripping
dew of midnight moon, salt of tears.

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Give Me

They were burned alive.
Most cherished to me,
betraying the functionality of a system,
interstitial asphyxiation took place.

In the garb of a garlanded saint
a gun booms.
The death is rolled from tongue to tongue.
flying limbs get strung on trees.

A faith was in flames,
somebody leapt from the inferno
with folded hands, to melt into a stone
reaching nowhere.

Non-particles were becoming visible
parting the sky.
Nostalgia was possessed with belief of non-believers,
a thought without a thinker.

I am taking liberty, O God
give me something to live!

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Tuning High

On a sunny day
I went out yeay
Took the country route
In my fishing boots

On a sunny day
I went out yeay

Life’s a funny game
You ought a play
When nothing’s at stake
‘Ts all about the way

On a sunny day
I went out yeay

Stars in the sky
Dreams in my eyes
No win no loose
You gotta choose

On a sunny day
I went out yeay

Singing with the wind
Dancing in the waves
Gonna fly to the moon
Am lost far away

On a sunny day
I went out yeay
Took the country route
In my fishing boots

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In search of a missing clock
he went to the city of a fake encounter.
It was irrelevant to find
the lost tunnel.

There was no street without a rustle.
The sap of tall trees had bloomed
into jaws of death.
He stepped on a land mine
and blew himself
to reach the truth.

And his gift was an
apostate of me.
The tenth day moon will
celebrate my becoming nobody.

The rivals will have
a field day
dancing on my shroud.

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The men were pulled out
from homes,
died on road,
burned to bones and ashes.

At the behest of tall,
unforgiving state.

Compulsion of armchair and mansion
distorts, the regrets
of centuries.

The stones,
blameless flowers,
spurting blood
do not recall any God.

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He refused to yield,
and the stars were burning hot.
Night was foggy, and the moon was hiding.
His white, shriveled hands
held the center of gravity.
Obsessively he anchored himself
in the muddled egos and bleeding knives.

Somebody was shouting that the legend
was a big fake.
The pardon will not work. Death was
still sleeping. They were searching
the saboteur when the sun went down.
Winds were in coma.
The ink rolled back from the warrant.

Two faces of pain, right and wrong,
fear and agony, all were him.
He had nothing to hide, nothing to declare.
Walked away in the high tide
in raining abuses, in hurting slogans,
and found his past, buried deep
in the ravines, where only the echo comes back.

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Innocent inside the circle,
you reached nowhere.
Dirty hands on the knob
kept the century locked.

Carbon footprints were deepening
under the sun, blue bird
circling in vain. The jealous
moon exiled to black hole.

The dust of the brutal time
settles on the umbrella. I am shivering.
The lies, the religion, the horrible
facts smell of the million deaths.

Who mode the tapestry of violence
into boneless truth and hairless
legs of prayers? Freedom escapes
through the scrolls of flames.

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Tonight I lift your eyes from the face
and paste it on my window.
Even death cannot claim the space
reversing the age.

A bra bomber blows up herself
in a windowless cell,
to get her a name on the wall of silence,
sort of a miracle.

Roses are in bloom
perfume of your life.
Do you take for granted
a claim for the sun?

Over to next moon
I will wait for the night,
to start a turf war
for the bloodied mouth.

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