A Knife that bleeds, Chanting and Sowing Seeds, Blood from the impure, Who unsheathes for a cure. Each Stroke. Each Slice. Each Thrust. Shall Suffice. No need for rythm Frantic, out of beat. This is the Cure. Panacea for the Poet of War. Poem by Sanjeev ‘Cimeries’ Retnasingam(27.09.2021)
Names fortell, fortune forward.Names may tell, history unsavoured.But truthfylly…Name are names – Man maketh namesEnchanting it with theirs, burning in flamesPoem by Sanjeev ‘Cimeries’ Retnasingam(23.09.2021)
Life… Sometimes it’s utterly miserable and sometimes it of pure bliss. For the occasions that life may be unfathomably miserable… It opens the way out. Though, the path out may not be easy – A steep price may be due. Like the Indiana Jones movies, there’s probably a trapdoor, a pedal that makes the room … More Homeless in 3 Days – A Frog Story (Part I – The Escape)
A desperate cry. A desperate lie. A full cask. A stone mask. We put on a smile, Push away a mile. Day in day out, Till eyes fill with drought. Be thick skinned, Fresh as a mint. Not as thin as a reed. Nor easily bleed. Same mask we all bear Though different sears and … More Maskless World
Worn with lies, That comes from the summit. Worn with lies, Of wings with no limit. Worn with lies, That I have never admitted. Worn with running, From the ravenous gaze. Worn with running, Through this endless maze. Worn with running, With lungs filled with haze. But now here. Nowhere. Not worn. Unborn. Free at … More Running from Life
Prying eyes peel, Head to heel. Necktie of noose, That will never come loose. This paper in hand, Fills stomach with sand. Full yet famished. Not even astonished. The door is there, But there is a fare. One step away, Yet may lead me astray. But the path beyond, Is more vast than a pond. … More The Cycle of Pain
I, the one who stands.Alone amongst all.Man, no longer.Monster now, no fangs, no claws norEvil Eyes. Just the soul, tainted alive.Is it not scary? Is it not lonely? Clasping my hands.A daring Angel approached, frail and small.Monster? Neigh… not monster, nor stranger.Friend of old. We have met before.Rise again. Struggle no more.Extinction arrives. It’s not … More I am…
I look to the skies and stretch my arms. Another morning by the side. The wild winds blow my hair and gloats its charms. A white old pigeon approaches in glide. You old bird? Why do you come? Why do you stay? What brings you here, to this plain? If I had wings, I’d fly … More Last Flight
Art of Cimeries 