POETRY- The Voyage of Oblivion

And who has seen the moon

Will see the dawn too, soon

But what I cannot promise

Is the sun at noon.


It is the Isle of mystery

Where you have been dumped

And duped by the whole humanity

Relentlessly forgotten

Left all by yourself.


In other sense you are free

Fromm all those norms and taboo

From every injustice and corruption

That you were forcefully made part of

Without a standing ovation.


You can take of the self

There is water and air and peace

Nothing else that you need

While you build the ship for you will need it

Build the ship and name it death.


Poetry- Wraith of Myself

In a distance I can hear a howl

With the fall of the rain, howl is supported

Tonight is a lonely night

And he stands beside me like a ghost

Not listening to what I hear, melonchically.


Under the terrible light

I cannot see somebody else

It’s all misty there

Until the mist

Itself tends to takes a shape

The shape of myself.


At that troubled end

I try to get adjacent

I see smoke ash arranged in a motif

Later on the ashes gather in the shape

The shape of myself.


The College Window

The glimmer of the evening rays

Heavy sun of summer, sleepy,

Goes past me up the college Wall.

Below, in the lawn

Insufficient grass, with a rose

Standing in the middle, assisted by a hundred thorns.

Beyond the lawn, adjoins a pavement; rough and soothe

On which passes the world with shadows down at their feet,

Going left and right.

Continue reading “The College Window”

MyWorks, Poetry



by Aman Mittal

Get drunk, live life
Have fun, love your wife

If you don’t have one, try somebody else’s

Welcome to the Bosnian Bar

Try some wine

Cheap beer makes you wild

Taste some whiskey

But don’t get too tipsy

Otherwise you’ll end up in trash
Smelling of puke and with no cash
With no clothes on, in the chilly wind of Bosnia

You might get pneumonia

Take care of your missus

She might get some kisses

If not you, then we’ll do

Welcome to the Bosnian Bar.

MyWorks, Poetry


A Blue Box

by Aman Mittal

I am sending back the key

Which let me in your study

Where we made love in madness;

I am sending back the key

Of the darkroom which I cannot see

Anymore, where my X-rayed heart

Thrown away in a blue box.


MyWorks, Poetry

A LIFE (A Poem)

A LIFE (A Poem)

by Aman Mittal

Touch it, it won’t shrink

As an eyeball does

Feel it, you can only feel

The feelings inside you,

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow,

Sometime it’s a landscape view

Blue stream of water

In between the hills

Day in, Day out

Followed by a bright sun,

Sometime it’s a portrait

Hanging on a wall

No movement and very still

A beautiful face

Wearing a set of pearls,

Else, you cannot drag it

Nor can you draw it

On a sheet of paper,

It has no shadow of it’s own

But reckons the one you have

Nor it can breathe

But breathe with your lungs

Nor it can see

But see through your eyes

Nor it can feel

But feels everything you touch


The Life is you.


MyWorks, Poetry


(a poem)

Abandoned the house
I use to live
As loved ones are gone
A long time before,

Abandoned the road
I use to walk
Took me to places
I could never thought,

Abandoned the body
I use to dwell
For the face became unknown
And the body rotted,

Still I wonder
Deeply concerned
Where will I go now?

MyWorks, Poetry


Dark House

a poem 

by Aman Mittal

A  big dark house

I  made it myself

Brick by brick

From a corner to top

Hollow from inside

Narrow by side

Without an attic

Roof is flat

But a big cellar

At the bottom

Locked and shut

Connected with tunnels

Marrow and shallow

Left incomplete

To banish the escape

Not a soul to dwell

But to consist

Only my dead thoughts.



The Hangman

a poem

by Aman Mittal

By the roots of his hair

Some God got hold of him

Abducted by His Strength

Felt like a prophet of a desert.

Nights are like snapshots

Out of sight

Like a lizard’s eyelid.

And the bald white days

Shade away

Behind the oaks.

While being pinned on a tree

The man ask god

If you were me, What would you do?

The god replies

If I were you, I would do what you did.

MyWorks, Poetry


by Aman Mittal

Let me die, fot I’ve seen a lot
Let me die, for I had dreamed this of
Days and nights, months and years
Through intended summer and temperate winter,
In eternal times, I’ve hath grown
Light shall fade
For my death does not brag,
Let me die,
For man can breathe
And your eyes can see
For my life shattered to death
Will be someone’s birth in bright.
But still I ask,
As the eye of heaven shines, upon me
Shall I die?