Mirakee
इन पत्तों क्या है
न ये किसी के और न इनका कोई
कभी शाख के हो लिए तो कभी हवा के
आप?
damped
pc to rightful owner IG : _simply_saying
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not every poem is complete
some couldn't, some aren't meant to be,
we fail to make out
if it ever ended
while they silently lie on the edge,
like a city waking up
like a train entering a station
like you entering home. -
सब जानते हैं नदी-समंदर के क्यों होते हैं दायरे
पर हर दायरे बाँधने के लिए नहीं बनाए जाते
यूँ तो अकसर खिड़कियों पे परदे टाँग दिए जाते हैं
पर हम उन खिड़कियों से ही धूप के आने का
इंतजार करते हैं -
यूं तो दीवारों का कोई खास जीवन नहीं,
पर अकसर वे खिङकियों के कायल हो जाते हैं
मैं सोचता हूँ क्या होगा इन दीवारों का
'गर खिङकियाँ बङी होती गईं
और सोचता हूँ उस दिवार के बारे में
जो मुसकुरा देता है यह जानकर कि
ईर्ष्या करते हैं उससे दूसरे दिवार
क्योंकि उसमे दरवाजे भी हैं
क्योंकि कभी-कभी खिङकियाँ
दरवाजों के ज़्यादा करीब हो जाती हैं -
somedays i feel so alone
like a leftover
like a building or a house
long abandoned and forgotten.
silence is the only language
that colours my tongue.
somedays i feel so crowded
like a transit
like a station or an airport
for a long break journey.
goodbyes is the only language
that colours my tongue. -
there's a sense of urgency
like i am done waiting,
like i have waited all my life
for the traffic to go red,
like another minute of waiting
and i would just run off.. -
i'm the station
and you, a traveller,
careless about
that last but one station
but anxiously looking
for it to pass.
but sweetheart,
there's a comfort
in letting you know
that you can now be carefree,
that you're almost there,
that you're almost home. -
.
-
.
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among a bunch of poems, i'm a half-prose
among a bunch of prose, i'm a half-poem.
-
i surround myself with trees
in the hope,
to see something root
something grow
something stay
©silence_beyond -
'
©silence_beyond -
the world strives hard
to wear happiness like a
it ain't sure
sometimes its okay to allow us to
drown, float, sleepwalk
than to be a happy face
©silence_beyond -
another year rolled by
and am still trying to become
all the places light touches in a room
even thoug i'm not one of them yet
otherwise
©silence_beyond -
a boy is just a boy untill.... (after Sam Payne)
you find yourself hanging from his words like ends of rope, you're built to fall / until a city gets overcasted and you know his flight took off / you hear him make sounds of sea, the kind that send you to trance / sends you waves of longingness across cities and streets, nerves and arteries/ you feel him in seasons when everything runs out of reason not to fall/ a boy is just a boy untill you realize you're meant for nothing; just wrong times wrong places
silence_beyond -
the crude irony of it all is
the season in which
i think of you the most
is the one,
where everything
finds a reason
to fall
coz,
falling feels like flying
until you hit the ground
©silence_beyond -
.
I wonder if anyone could write you better than me. I know I'm no poet to keep you in my poetries. And we were never a love story. Together we were hozier , devastating yet beautiful. Perhaps you made up your mind before falling in love , perhaps you already schemed our end. When I look back , I don't see pink carnations and sweet sunsets with murmured I love yous. They're myths to me. I see a rugged terrain, trekkers are to afraid to climb, I see your words against my skin making my leftover poems bleed. Bruised memories of holding your hand , you jerking away from my side , that's a part of you I have to myself. We weren't a cliche you'd find in drawn between graphite hearts or our names shipped on wooden benches. I didn't look at skies and weaved a forever because sky to me was never divine, instead a cracked ceiling cracking further more to let in rains. A whole winter has passed by , my sweater slips past my left shoulder revealing a disowned hickey. Here and there I stumble upon strangers with a mispronunciation same as yours, that blue sweat shirt. I bring them to my bed ,sleep in their arms and wake up all alone. Pushing me away, pulling me close, you loved me in a loop. Sometimes I look for you in my cupboard, all I find is empty bottles of old monk. Sometimes, I look for you in the terrace , when you looked at the moon longer than you looked at me. Then I turn to the Letters of heartbreaks disguised as love . And I trace my fingers over some fond words. I sit with my pen to add up one more letter to my draft. I wonder if anyone could write you better than me.
©poeticgirl -
silence_beyond
18w
i love the way you hold me
like poetry
i turn into a reason
to become all the words
to make you stay
©silence_beyond -
slit me open
i'm more parts
words and metaphors
line breaks and punctuation marks
than flesh and bones
than blood and water
i'm a well dressed wound
wrapped in smiles and laughter
to soften the sounds
of my sad poems
thereafter
©silence_beyond
