Stains decor my memoirs made of torn pages
Life never had been more discernible earlier

Had any one a scale to weigh my feelings?
To help me gauge lost love and few blessings

Seen more clouds but never had they rained
Nor did all those buds remind me of seasons

Did ever my desires cross holy limits?
That I be placed in pages unfolding ‘Greed’

To err is humane-you help yourself very often
And you made me believe -to forgive is divine!

Scapegoat indeed, forced to reign in frozen times
And stolen were whose harvests since ages

Truth hounds when it’s about words that I lose
At least where I face the end of my solitude

Never did I boast am not materialistic
I too love dreams to keep myself living

Never did I claim my words as pure poetry
But If not for now, never I find peace!

K.

this is wonderfully written,
I'll return to it many times to discern its intricate weaving

S.

well...that was blank as named! you put more colors with your words.
thanks
krishna