The Master Badge represents the total amount of points that you have earned from participating in the poetry.com community
I have been writing poetry for a long, long time Since I was in grade 4/5. I like to write deep, dark, esoteric poetry I find the ray, the aura of poetry everywhere in and around the Universe http://poemhunter.com/kumar-k-kamal/ http://allpoetry.com/poem/by/ujjol this is the place where i sleep they interred me here while i was 3 the cemetery is full o' trees large, small, living, breathing dying all my bones are gone now ...so art the flesh only that remains the sprouting of the daisies and daffodils bayoneting out of my broken boneless sockets and shouts while i was young i used to smile like you the you in me would then climb through the clouds every man is a mantra every woman is Bethlehem, Dhaka, Beirut- the lost scrolls of Babylon cry out in founts the meadows gay green gleem and glisten in the womb of endless doubts like to swim in Mississippi meditate in shrouds dont like to talk at all have loads of loathe for money, glory, war, machines beneath a veil of beauty i see her soaring in sari i ask her of her lust and desire she looks at me askew some unwanted pairs of seagulls fly across the oil-tainted Gulf Of Mexico Bp to blame for the spill of the century Icelandic ice and ash rise to disrupt flights and freights i dont dream anymore i dont dare to deconstruct the constructions of the curved kimonos beneath a shade of a silvern aftrenoon i fall asleep like R.V. Winkle i see the aura of Milton, Shakespeare, Shelly, Keats, Byron, Tagore, Nazrul, the Romanticists, the Blake, the Metaphysicals, the Metaphysicists embrace me to top to toe I broke a finger today tomorrow i will break two! your beauty is skin; s deep every cloud has a silver lining every dog will have her day every cat his evening O dear daffodils dont you die yet the sun has not yet finished its arduous journey to join the unjoins war in Iraq, Afganistan approaches to alms conquering of the conquered conc shells crucifixion cares the realms of the lilacs the love of the lips render me to furrow in the fields of furrowed fools o dont ye go gentle in the goodnite of nonchalant desire the young age should be sorbet the old should be bowed at and respected the dreams in darkness the days in maize life a sheer sham infinity waves afar cant write anymore right now shall try catching up with you if you be a less considerate and more apt at fire, flesh, fish, fruits fresh- leaves of grass when the sun shall shadow itself from the forests of wooing nights and shall a group of daffodils shall pray together to live and die when the moonlit sky with a sigh of sites shall be raining rain and lights i shall be remembering you night after night hid beneath a shawl of undreaming undeeming unending night love you like the light love you like the dewdrops against the silvern sky are you bron yet are you might have you inundated with religion yet have you painted yourself with pride have you touched yet the ripples of water have you yet lied have you driven a machine yet have you yet cried have you yet climbed the tip of orgasm have you yet mudded your face with delight and despair have you yet shout out with pain yet have you yet smiled have you yet dressed to kill yet have you lived to die have you yet witnessed the births of rites, rituals, romance, power, pride, wrongs, rights have you swum yet in the pool of sadness and pleasure war, wine, women clergy, clans, kites have you yet tasted your own tears yet have you leapped up to Paradise the hell is far away heaven is an inch wide your eyelids are heavy your wings gather cold, wintry frost-bites you try, but you cannot fly try to walk, but you cannot proceed to try your fingers are numb your brain deep, dark, dry- the mutations of the divine kind treks across the across the sky of the dying light redlight zones topless towns gin and whiskey race and run chaplains in the churchyard imams in the mosques priests and priestesses play and ply spreading the sriptures of thin threadbare trysts Helen in Paris Trozan-Horse hidden hid Agamenon fights Socrates hemlocks like Shakespeare speaks wise Milton meet, met, multiply Shelly sobs Keats coughs out life Byron fights in vain the Turks take them all side by side The Romanticists romanticize The Metaphysical poets dive deep to deprive King Lear cannot cry anymore the daughters proved too clever to care, cry For Whom the Bell Tolls Mid Summer Night Dreams A tale Of Two Cities Autobiography Of an Artist as a young file Let there be Light Stop Genocide The Rape of a million The Revelations of infinite Eyes Sights beyond sites I and I Eye and eyes you and me relax to realize and release the seamen drowned in the endless lines the iris open up her slumberous eyes she sees the snake in twilight afraid she not the snakes slides billions stars shoot out they lay lie like moss grown on the unmoving mountainous sides-!