When the lavender fields bloomed in the first winter, The mystic fragrance covered landscapes high, That was the moment I saw your smile, That's how I fell in love with you, When the windy air flourished in blue, And all the butterflies started a search for something sweeter,
You can open my heart and find yourself nonchalantly breathing, In my mind and even in my veins, Your reflections in my eyes are clearer than the rains, Flowing across the depths of my flesh, a beauty deeper than the skin, Your gaze becomes the melody in my ears, a battle for the win, Sleeping on my shoulders, I see our fifteen years pass by as our dreams start weaving.... __________________________________________________
Image credits- pinterest Rhyming scheme- a, b, b, c, c, a
HALCYON ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A plethora of stars glistening in the sky, Exquisite moonlight shining so high, Almost made my solitude turn into esctacies, The feeling of melancholy fades away like a tide, Earphones in my ears, tears in my eyes, How jubilant sonnets can silence my cries, Slowly as sorrow is replaced by symphonies, I cry tears of joy even in the peril of life, The sky above me but nobody by my side, Probably don't need one to explore my shine, Songs in my ears, silence in my heart, Gone are the days of solitude, as halcyon melodies become my part...... _________________________________________________
UKIYO --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rivers gushing through the stones silently, Would they be cutting rocks so easily, If they were to think about their failed attempts, Or worry about the future uncertainties; Like the meadow blooming daffodils annually, Oh how spirited they must be, If they had to think about last year's floods, And still manage to bloom in a tyranny; Does the tiger know that its alone on the earth, And probably would die till the next year's birth, Still manages to survive in the wild in a vulnerable state, Without a home, food, or even the consciousness of its fate; Living in falied memories, Is as bad as thinking about future failures, Ruling out various possibilities, Probably that would make your future better; __________________________________________________ Try living in the present sometimes, Its a present opening up surprises for you......
A dew was once held captive by my window pane; It struggled to just land to the ground sliding in vain; It reached the end of its journey with enormous pain; And met another one like it who went through the same; They became closer as time passed by; And ultimately became one and filled their empty stain; They were enjoying each others company when suddenly came the rain; And merged them along with other dews to flow through a dusty lane, Lanes were cleared and so was the windy rain, But they were nowhere to be found as if the cloudy sky took them, I sat there wondering when will I see them again, At the same moment I saw another dew on my window pain, And the story will continue till the next rain........
I was constantly taught; To hide all my tears as they were just fake cries; To become stronger than I could; Just to earn the label of a "man",yet becoming weaker than the lies; I was constantly taught; To man up before the sun rise; To get a job with profits even if the passion within me dies; If I don't beat up the boys who teased me; I am not "manly" enough to be called a man; If I try to wear make up like women around me; I am not real enough to be called a man; And when I got cheated on by my girlfriend; I was not a man because I cried; And when I was labelled as a cheater by my fake friend; I was looked down upon by numerous eyes; But I didn't do anything wrong to prove myself right; I didn't hurt anyone in my entire life; Still I am not "manly" enough to be called a man; And not "real" enough to protect myself if I can; I am a cheater as I was labelled by my friend; I am a sinner if I show a mirror to fake women, But inside all of this, I am just a human, A human with a heart, a human who is still a man
Image credits- pinterest
I might not understand all the problems that you guys face, but I tried to tell you that your problems should not be hidden anymore. I tried to see the problems that men around me face, so please ignore if I miss out on anything. Hope you will like it
Mother always cooked half-baked bitter truths into sweet cakes and cookies. In the sixties, she was a rich lass who happened to come across the poorest cobbler in her Hamlet, and it was love at first sight, she claimed, and I, to the contrary saw no love in the eyes of the man whom she called her soulmate. I knew where and why, he was missing each nights, drunk and drowned in kisses and cuddles of another mistress. Anne Sexton in her journal had written, 'It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.' It was when he was sober drunk, truth was spoken in the house. You see— my mother knew all of my father's ordeals and encounters with women and men alike, but she liked to maintain peace, or I preferred to call— pseudo-sangfroid.
If the house was burning, she would have loved to sit and watch it burn down to ash; if the five of us, me being the oldest happened to argue with each other like beasts, and she in the distant corner of the house would sit, knitting clothes for her first born who breathed for one minute, calling Mother by her name, and went back into darkness. Father said mother was kinder, optimistic and beautiful before the still born era. I'm a product of love that split when the first seed of their love failed to blossom. Father turned to alcohol and mother, deep into silence and without any company. The thing called home they had built for us turned to graveyard of unsaid things and dark secrets of our own. Father was the first one who could no longer tolerate the way Mother behaved. He was humble and kind; when I had my first periods, he was the one who made me understand the blood spots are what made me a woman and there was nothing to be ashamed of. It was known I was my father's pet, and no child of the house was given the care he gave me; although he showed unwavering love and support to each of us. Mother, then had those maniac attacks which no doctor could cure. Father died while crossing the road and mother died when the income of the house finished and medicines could not be afforded.
But I think I am jumbling up facts here and there. Tomorrow I'm going to be presented before the judge for attempting homicide on parents but why on Earth do I not remember it?
No. My mother had married twice. And my father taught me how to bake. We baked together and then he died by heart attack. No. The man she married the second time was a drunk and he was the one to hit father while we were baking and stuck a knife in his stomach.
No, no, no I am mixing facts, surely.
Mother came from a Gypsy background. Her grandmother was a witch and was burnt in front of the villagers, stark naked. She fell in love with father but betrayed him which caused him to turn to alcohol? And he was killed by my stepfather because my mother couldn't stop being in love with my real father. I don't remember ever stepping out of the house.
My head becomes dizzy and I doze off.
Opening my eyes; I see there is a page in front of me, that claims I have split personality disorder. My lawyer had given me, and says there are 7 personalities in me. Four females and three males and they are unknown to each other and have bizzare contrasting characteristics and mannerisms; explaining my amnesia and blackouts; there is a box which I'm supposed to sign, which would liberate me from my sins. I let out a sigh and look above, there is a man standing on the door staring at me. Reality clicks in, I'm sitting on a chair of a restaurant with a half-baked cake similar to the ones my father taught me to make, and that's when I realize, I never left my house, and my mind was stuck in worlds that didn't exist.
You are like a song the one which reverberates in the soul of a valiant soldier who dwells in calidity and gelidity, survives eighteen bullets in one heart and intripidly stands to take another. ~You are the anthem of a nation~
You are like a song the one which gives voice to the protest poetries that were/are written and forgotten amidst myriad of barbarity, a society perpetrates, a society braves. ~You ameliorate a society~
You are like a song the one which my mother plays on her radio while she shrivels up her dreams under the same flame that wilts her fingers and cooks good health for her kinfolk. ~You raise a family~
You are like a song the one which stresses on the dilemma of living and dying, stays in the rags of a wanderer and escapes through the luxuries of the well-heeled, rewinds the plight and loops the air of felicity. ~You shape a human~