Basin Poems - Poems about Basin

Under the dark sky of 2025, where the Genetic Basin pulses like an overloaded server beneath the shadows of a Sulimi, my thoughts flow like a faulty algorithm through 6G networks, whistling beneath faces lit by screens, with AirPods in ears, running through Amazon Go, crushing biodegradable packaging, in a digital chaos colder than the melted ice of the Arctic. Faces...

Continue reading...

The setting sun weaves a poem, blossoming unsung trochaic along the river basin (Nurulhuda Junction. Teesta) Sometimes it feels quite an estranged thought to realise that living is a mundane day to day thing to sustain. The welfare causes are demanding all those intricate , subtle personal delicate feelings, into a powermonger possessive expositional ownership, for no...

Continue reading...

Flying wedge-like as wool feathers the wind, the geese are leaving the basin. Where do they go? How long till they arrive? Will the plump make stops on the way? At first a few will arise together. Later thousands flock to the sky. Who leads the skein and rides the windy tides to the land of their winter dreams? If I could fly, wings soaring up with them, I’d...

Continue reading...

The house on Basin Street has a back yard dressed in Eleanor Tabor. Front yard, Sonata Spring. They called this curb appeal. My woman wore a bodycon sweater dress, belted waist. This they called curve appeal. ...

Continue reading...

Nature made convenient sluice, when pool water did wend down the gentle slope describing gargantuan wetsuit vend er steadily chugging, chiseling, and channeling straight away blindly coursing upend ding (mankind imposed) property boundaries demarcations tend with futile...

Continue reading...

Power points of dimensional spinning graphs are largely placed in cement viewfinders in aerated office space with dome foam chairs. Dome foam chairs are the salt of seats and seating is considered important for lengthy discussion tables whose droning voices appear to form no conclusion yet get salaried by the milliseconds. Thousands and thousands of...

Continue reading...

I poured water in a basin ready to bathe with it but it told me to stop; “I have wonderful plans, to be the greatest Sea In this desert environment; greater than Red Sea, Black Sea Stop wasting me away.”...

Continue reading...

A potatoe cake bathing with an onion ring is an iconic sealed ring in a genuine abyss of calm. But an abyss is neither an abbot nor an abbess. For pretty tunnels created in a monastery clap link out to wave wreathed gardens bursting with hue and fauna. So a garland weave can be made...

Continue reading...

The mountain bends down, kissing the nape of her neck: As jealous trees sway....

Continue reading...

Morning yawns brisk air, Into tepid moss-fill lungs: Shivering boulders....

Continue reading...