Author Archives: Swati Krishna

Prestige

a poem by

Comes a time; not so again
to make and give and feel
the ambience of prestige;
like no camera without a reel;

A fear to lose it, bonuses it
again and again
the thought so dense
creeps up, leaving in a bootless inquisition.

Practical sense seems lost
no shades of black and white
all appearing grey
vanishing for its, bright and right.

Some scenes making
the importance to boil over.
Others forget to look back forth it
this is what happens-
when respect and gains
is soon to be lost
the way it always pours,
when rains.