From the Desk of Maanvinder: A Poetry Collection: February 2025

Oh! Behemoth tyrant set her free

From the cage of her plight she’s trapped in,
Fields of coal cannot end the hunger
And rivers of oil cannot quench the parched,
Seas full of the perished and soil lacking air
lungs smoking gun and ash from fire,
he, who must pay the price for the greed
and the crime will bring his demise,
one shall not questions its power
its force will submerge you under water

Letter

Dear readers, at this point when i'm 20 and looking back on everything in my life, i realised that i have only face the loss whether its of dreams or people, both have haunted my life. I know i sound like an 80 years old writer right now but i'm trying my best to appear cool on the web pages and not super cringe. Entirety of my work, with some exceptions, it is about the loss only that i penned after having very deep conversation with my ghosts at midnight and writing the memories i could recall on a paper and sometimes even use my own diary entries to cause myself further harm. Right now, i stand at a point in life when i must learn to let go but there is one thing that i want which i already declared dead in the past. And that is the muse from my "Campus Confessions" poems, where like a fool, i declared that the story has met its conclusion but it certainly has not. It is still unfolding but under the dark days that i must survive in order to come out alive on the other side of the door, with invisible strings between me and my muse finally bringing us together. I suggest you ignore the last part that i wrote. It is certainly not meant to be for you in general but for the muse behind my work. The delusional mind of mine kept pushing its agenda which was to believe in the thought that maybe that person will stumble across this page and might start thinking as another rant of mine on "unrequited stories". So the sole reason to even write this letter is to address that i still sit at my shore, waiting for the ship to dock at the harbor. I don't want it to be another addition to something lost but undead. Thank You

From the Desk of Maanvinder: A Poetry Collection

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