Aditi Khandelwal
Aditi Khandelwal Comments
With sweet poems For My Mom, Still A Stranger, The Little Girl, Accident and many others, This teen sensation stoops to conquer the poetry and the world! My words may sound pompous but truth her poetry picture perfect like Sachin's Cover Drive. She got the class, she got the style But she mass, ma ma Mass! Rated A1 + a big Treat! Read hear poetry,100% entertainment guarantee with lifetime warranty! Happy birth to her mom in the heaven! Says one Harindhar Reddy paisano and fellow poet from her country, India.
I like this poem ' Phases Of Moon', because it reminds me of my previous & future life. Hence, you can be the famous poet across the globe like me. I have been invited to India to recite my poems wouldn't you like to attend with me? Your correspondence will be highly appreciated. Have a nice day! Mr. Koena France Mokoena Country: South Africa
Aditi invited me to comment on her poem 'Thank You' but her poem after poem kept me reading and asking for more. Her innocent talent makes her write from an entirely novel perspective, very refreshing. Best wishes for a budding poetess!
I could pick anything and think of you—
This lamp, the wind-still rain, the glossy blue
My pen exudes, drying matte, upon the page.
I could choose any hero, any cause or age
And, sure as shooting arrows to the heart,
Astride a dappled mare, legs braced as far apart
As standing in silver stirrups will allow—
There you'll be, with furrowed brow
And chain mail glinting, to set me free:
One eye smiling, the other firm upon the enemy.
This post-postmodern age is all business: compact disks
And faxes, a do-it-now-and-take-no-risks
Event. Today a hurricane is nudging up the coast,
Oddly male: Big Bad Floyd, who brings a host
Of daydreams: awkward reminiscences
Of teenage crushes on worthless boys
Whose only talent was to kiss you senseless.
They all had sissy names—Marcel, Percy, Dewey;
Were thin as licorice and as chewy,
Sweet with a dark and hollow center. Floyd's
Cussing up a storm. You're bunkered in your
Aerie, I'm perched in mine
(Twin desks, computers, hardwood floors):
We're content, but fall short of the Divine.
Still, it's embarrassing, this happiness—
Who's satisfied simply with what's good for us,
When has the ordinary ever been news?
And yet, because nothing else will do
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7/19/2025 2:35:54 AM # 1.0.0
This is the most important poem, because it is about exposing the personal attributes, hence you should be proud of who you are...