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Poetry blog "Aadil Ghulam Bhat" is meant for  readers with poetry knowledge. 


The information which I’ll be sharing through the medium of blog posts will be solely based on my experience and ‘does NOT guarantee’ you any sort of results.


Any action you take upon the information you find on this blog is strictly at your own risk and I won’t be responsible for any losses.


While I may write posts on the topic of "Enhence poetry ”, I am absolutely not a specialist in this field. Those posts will be solely based on my experiences,  and what has worked for me and not necessarily will work for you.

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Do you hear the walls bleed

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Aadil Ghulam Bhat  Poet and Author   Do you hear the walls bleed at night? Do you hear them weep in whispered wails, In midnight murmurs no man dares read, Their tired tales tucked beneath paint— Beneath the smog of propaganda? I have seen the silence scream. I have seen laughter die in daylight. I have seen light snuffed by sorrow, By eyes too tired to wonder. I have seen. I have seen— Pillows swallowing sobs like mourners, Doors that forgot the art of welcome, Ceilings sagging under secrets, Windows blinking away the bullets, As though war were only weather. The walls—they flinch in fright. They remember what we bury. They remember how bullets bloom, How joy jolts and dies on entry, How peace parades in camouflage. They wear wounds beneath wallpaper, Tremble in the tapestries of time. I asked the door, “How many left Barefoot, shadows stretched past dawn?” It did not answer—but it groaned. Every crack is a confession. Every nail, a narrative unnamed. Even the bricks wear qui...
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CRY ON MY SHOULDER

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  I'm of two minds, how to get off odds and ends.  My faith is no longer changed, limits were exceed.  O, my sweet hopes, thou are sugar in mouth,  All hopes will fail, all shadows will fade.  Not taken and loved to beauty of filthy face,  Thy dear steps i used to kiss, in gloomy phase I may be out of your sight, never out of mind,  And you will find greatest escape, with cry everytime Every second you would be saudade and remorse,  On this cold, dark and sad night, listening the beat of my heart,  Gosh, "I am missing these days", with painful screams.  You won't cease bawling, will not know what to do. 
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In conversation with Tagore

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            Aadil Ghulam Bhat               Poet & Author. (Where the mind is without fear  A nd the head is held high;  Where knowledge is free;  Where the world has not been broken up  into fragments by narrow domestic walls;) ~ Rabindranath Tagore  O h dear Tagore! the lament of the written words—this sacred art, Once a medium for profound contemplation, it has now been diminished to the triviality of emails and text messages. I can’t help, but imagine how you might have navigated this digital chaos.Perhaps you would have found yourself calling as an Instagram poet, crafting pithy 280-character gems of wisdom into condensed, bite-sized pieces perfectly suited for the fleeting attention spans of scrolling fingers. Your insightful reflections on the human condition would likely be drowned in a sea of hashtags like #LiteraryNoble and #nobleforlikes, lost amid an endless parade of selfies a...
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