High and afar, a paradise of love Friendly thinking clouds found their ground So pure, so great, a place so profound
Majestic and Infinite, an imperial palace Imprisoned clouds unveil their noiseless dreams Soaking spectral mass with their unseen realms
Bright and dazzling, a heart shaped orb With morning dawn, scorching prompts, Breaks night long spell, setting thoughtful clouds on fire Enkindling the unconquered embers of desire
Breathing and blooming, a new born star Conquering his space betwixt his lines Painting words in coverlets of blue, Unfurling his enraptured soul Seeking relief in soul shaped nest For a place of tranquility and rest
Mysterious and resolute, an inspecting cloud Whose coming is welcomed with besotted eyes Tracing the glories with repost in the skies A naming prodigy in the upper sky A feeling so divine, sublime.
Tonight I sit here Writing without a purpose Pouring out my heart After being overshadowed for years No stanza structure Not following any rhyme scheme Just words, plain words One after the another Forming vague sentences Like disrupted or unkempt syntax Typed without hitting a backspace wiping out my piercing screams Without any mute button My words flows out like raindrops Falling on the lake Like diamonds scattered From an aeroplane Sailing in the air Like a seed once sown Which never have grown Tonight I sit here Ejecting out voices Out of my blue veins
From 36/9 down and being 0-1 to winning it 2-1! Incredibly proud of this team. What they have achieved is beyond extraordinary❤️ Best test series ever witnessed. Start of on era of Indian cricket team! ----------------++++++-------------------
#writersbay I could only think of this topic to write about using this prompt #mmvc
Mini-monoverse Each mini- monoverse is written in two stanza of five lines. 3 syllables per line and the rhyming scheme is a-a-a-a-a and b-b-b-b-b Tried my best to stick to three syllable per line count. Please feel free to correct
Gaaba, Brisbane - place in Australia Blue men, blue - Team India . After 32 years of unbeaten record, India won test series on the oz soil #writersnetwork
All my life I've looked at words as though squeezed out little inkdrops of my chafing heart. Letter by letter, unveiling my fragmented thoughts, clawed and united to form words. They are my voice to my impulsive mind. Capturing my feelings and intensity all in a line.The interplay of words and rhythm , of verses and poesy gives life to my ethereal imagination.
Even on my loneliest day, the little words scrawls all over the dull paper accompanying me with sheer grace Like moonlight splattered over my barren floor, Illuminating me with iridescent light.
On days I'm broken, they shine on my broken melody like beheaded tulips glistens under rain.
The squeezed out inkdrops looks perfect like a sage even when they are spewed out with tongue of flames , like burning tongs. They escape my mind like soap bubbles fluttering with the wind, giving a face to my unreal dreams.
Words are My armies, My heroes, My front line soldiers, My tiny pawns strongly ranged to guard my Kingdom of darkness. ______________________
Your kind nature, a very gracious heart Your bliss conceals our pain bearing part Your constant uplifting spree, to subside the cloud and fog clustering in our mind Your silliest efforts to restore our natural kind A brother, a friend, a person with brilliant mind A state of ephiphany, you redefined Though the tale is now lost under the perpetual labyrinth of time Yet, your words now supplants, showering us with light. Like kaleidoscopic rainbows cascading the sky Thanks to your memories, I now, live in thy.
Self-doubt which you once harvested is now out of control. He sticks inside you like a leech Sucking your blood, surviving on your fragile thoughts. Feeding off on the remnants of your sanity. Crippling you down everytime you try to rise up But, like beneath the dark clouds lies the silver lining, Behind every gloomy dark day, lies the unsolicited rays of the sun, Behind every despair, I, the Hope too prevails.
I know how ugly he makes you feel Despite, you being so bright. He blinds you, obscuring your vision, from any kind of sun. But peel off the scab your mind is surrounded with, Fight back! Scoop to the bottom of the ocean, Get rid of the extra layers until you reach the dried rusk, Revive a new beginning, a new day. Exactly how after every rainy day, we say, this too shall pass, with the shining sun. Let the seed of Me sprout, let Me blossom into a beautiful flower. Be resilient, cope up, do not let the parasites of my step-brother despair, in any of its forms win and take you to the rope
I know I do fail you many times and makes you look like a stranger in a fools' paradise but hold onto me tightly, I will shine when everything, everyone else, fails you. Even a small firefly, a tiny light in the dark Will remind you of me. I am present in every nook and every cranny. Your healing hand when your wings are broken, Your star, your neon light in the dark, your rain, your sunshine. All you'll need is a vision to see me. Be resilient. Be you. Let me reside inside happy you.
The year 2020 brought us many reasons to whine about. Lost some dear ones and made us realise about our weak self. But we still hope for 2021. we are still here fighting with our strength to fight against all the odds. That is exactly what I am...a HOPE
When I die like a flickering summer, lay my sins on a bed of mercy sprinkled with rose water flowing from the angels' garden, the nightingale shall sing no sad hymns, no soul shall weep, for my departure isn't a death sentence nor a dead-end.
In a grave where daisies and petunias touch the amber skies and play hide & seek with the lemon sun I wish to seek eternal rest,
Wrap my flesh in silk forgiveness, in my grave plant prayers & lavenders together with anecdotes and poems, pin a profound epitaph, engrave a Chronicle of this spectacular journey, my pilgrimage from Womb to Tomb.
Smiles are costly and I'm not much of a bargainer, so I pay with blood for the happiness you see plastered on my face, because pretence is the new reality these days.
Words come cheap to those who dwell in bars with a broken heart spilled on their clothes, like the permanent ink of sorrows, tattooed on their skin.
Kindness echoes fiction, many say a fairytale of our time, for children to believe that poverty is a monster which can be defeated.
Hope is a graveyard kept alive with the flowers, stranded strangers leave behind, perfumed with guilt and amnesia as they forget everything but the scriptures of faith
Life, a beautiful lie and death, a hurtful truth they say, so when I've lived my lies as truth, bury me with the smiles I held dear, nail them to my coffin, so that whenever they pass me by, they will know pretences are opaque promises not meant to enter afterlife.
Bury me with words, immortal in an honest love lost, so their story may live in my epitaph, for the stranger kissing goodbye can believe love is the strongest force of all.
Bury me with kindness in the way you lay down my body, for your faintest touch of warmth may keep me warm, if my soul finds solace in the broken hut you walk by daily, but never stopped to spare a morsel or a penny.
Bury me with hope to forgive yourself if you forget, the moles on my body or how my lips were bow shaped, for eyes are but illusions and faith is in the love, in your heartbeats that rage.
For the uncertainty and certainty meet like old friends in the aftelife, bury me with both, a taste for life fulfilled and an adventure yet to take.
When my breathless corpse will shed the last tear to live, bury it with the perpetual memories that I embedded on someone else's sky. The monochrome of my life that faded infront of the melancholic curtains will soon end. Bury the letters that lie is wrapped and kept in a corner where the darkness of new moon has not reached yet. The letters are still white and my soul will embrace it's letters one day when it will start to live in solitude with the warmth of the soil. Bury the pages that I picked up from the storm in my heart. The pages are yet to be inked with emotions when my soul will ink some treasures with the invisible tears of death. Bury the eternal pure love that was used to paint someone else's canvas leaving that of mine blank. The love that still opens some dilapidated windows of the heart that keeps changing its colour. Bury some thorns from my bed that I felt as the blessing of God while being half dead in my nightmares. The thorns that I dropped down intentionally on the deplorable albums of sorrow. Bury my ancient innocence which is trapped in the edifice of my sorrow. The serenity that flies in the skies full of fantasies aimless, homeless just flying and going away from the dreams that were once mine. Bury the emollient touch of my mom which will keep collecting my tears from the bloodless soul and will help my soul to cease one day.
Mind inundated by society's facade of decrees Always caged & caging the soul & its eluding sprees It's fine if I'm to be buried without a penny But I hope I'll be buried free from mind's tyranny
Heart entranced by all things affable & gentle Hoping to reimburse every soul with kindness as a rental It's fine if I'm to be buried as a redemption for my sins But I hope I'll be buried with my heart's heart-filling grins
Boredom always seeking warmth of the books Thoughts affected by their words as rooks It's fine if I don't have an eulogy written in a monograph But I hope I'll be buried with a poem as an epitaph
Love chasing at your footprints on time's vast expanse Defying all odds against us with love as a stance Dear, its fine if you don't visit me ever again I'll be glad to be buried knowing that your heart was a precious thing that I could attain
Indisputably, I'll die with remorseful incredulities But until the end I hope to transcend beyond my capabilities I'll try to stick to my words until the end of my life But when I'm buried I hope to be buried as a human worthy of being humane about in the afterlife
In my drawer, my mother finds irrational things And calls it a graveyard and I just look away .
The concert ticket I stayed back till after twelve just to hear my friend sing like it really was The end of the world.
The neon clips that my sister gifted me on the day I cut off my long hair after a boy declared rather firmly that a woman is defined by her long tresses.
The poem on overwhelming Grief torn off from my diary which I had written to god after she took my grandpa away from me Without notice
The ticket from a bus ride When I had a conversation with A stranger who told me almost matter of factly that crowded buses reminds her of her own mind
The crumpled wrapper of the strawberry candy that I dared to buy after the boy sitting behind me in class told me about an app That counted calories.
The pebble I picked up from The shore when I strayed Too far near the ocean and my father had pulled me back yelling lovingly
The ink stained pencil sharpenings That my friend had desperately tried to make into art the day I told her I felt too gloomy for life.
The diary after diary after diary That I filled with thoughts that made no sense and didn't Have to either.
The tissue from a restaurant When I had picked up a fallen butterfly from the table and The color from its wing stained my fingers and I had wondered if I could fly now.
The postcard written in spanish I found within A second hand book written By a stranger who suddenly felt like a lover from another time.
The rakhi I never tied because my wise friend told me that it is not necessary really to use Thread to keep a boy from Wandering too close to our hearts.
The red ballpoint pen I used to Underline lines from Gitanjali When Tagore effortlessly blurred the line Between longing and reality .
The badge from my second Standard on which I had drawn a blue bird on the back and called It my invisible angel .
You see these things are alive and throbbing with The spirit of the meaning they have given my life but when I die would they even matter? A badge and a wrapper and a postcard and A ticket? Just like my breathless body they Would be just plain Ordinary things with no soul. Or meaning hence.
So when you bury me, dear world remember just to take the meaning my life offered you for a brief little while And bury it within your heart kindly for I believe within your heart I
Would remain Eternal. Just like the badge with the blue bird Or the tissue with the butterfly wing stain Or the neon clips Hidden in my drawer that my mother despite her tantrums Never really Threw away.