sahoosmruti

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  • sahoosmruti 9h

    For the deliberate subversion
    she has been demanding
    is no less a denial
    She nurtured fierce
    in her feminity.

    For abusing is not owning
    she gave up fighting
    for mere flesh and blood
    the hurricane under her skin
    couldn't destroy her soul.

    The evolution I seek
    she painted with her blood
    The safety I talk of
    she created
    relinquishing her flesh
    The dignity I wear
    is the blessing
    she snatched

    She is the anguish
    of my soul
    The faith
    for my fortune .

    ©sahoosmruti

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    The fierce
    of her feminity
    is the fortune
    for many .

  • sahoosmruti 16h

    I see
    freedom in broken strings
    strength in broken people
    suffering
    in beautiful eyes
    and
    pain in
    smiling faces .
    Practicality of life
    can be encountered
    easily
    from different
    perspectives.

    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 1w

    "Mathematics and Literature can't go together simultaneously, don't you know that ?"
    "I believe that , a parallel path is much better than the ones that eventually cross each other ,ultimately exploiting the possibilities of two parallel worlds. "
    "But, parallel lines don't meet ."
    "No , they meet at infinity. "
    "Sounds good. How long this infinity is ?"
    "As long as your belief in infinity exists. "
    "That's lil bit complex, no ?"
    "No,not complex as Mathematics. "
    "Then ,explain ?"
    "Look ,I am not good at explaining when it comes to 'you'. And probably you are forgetting that I scored 10 out of 100 in Mathematics. "
    "Damn. You know how to create stories out of your failed attempts. "
    "No, I use to revalue my failed attempts by cherishing them ."
    "Again, it is confusing .No ?"
    "No, it is simple. Simple as Literature. You won't get .Leave." :)
    ©sahoosmruti

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    You seek
    equations,algebraic .
    I write
    emotions, poetic .

  • sahoosmruti 2w

    The empyrean
    eyes ere
    limns
    portrait
    of a
    nymph
    Who was
    once considered
    as a goddess,unknown
    and worshipped .
    For the magic
    she enchanted
    has turned into
    the rust,
    now,oozing blood
    on her lips
    smells like
    sacred sin
    Her grabbed
    wilderness
    conceived
    mountains
    and forests
    ends her
    religion
    ends the
    demand for her
    kindness
    Today
    she is more than
    enlightenment
    justice
    salvation
    or any religion
    She is her own belief
    her own kind of
    goddess
    who cherishes her
    muliebrity
    in the ways she wants .
    ©sahoosmruti

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    Cherish your
    muliebrity in your own way .
    Be the kind of goddess
    you want to become.

  • sahoosmruti 3w

    Once in a blue moon the unicorn takes a haphazard route to wake you up and say that enough sleep you nurtured ,now be ready to roam ,to be lost and found a thousand times and more before you return to your abode and fall into exhausted slumber .
    // You smile . You realise that your unicorn is not just another random face from the crowd. //

    Amid all those pessimisms when you forget how happiness feels like and search for a single reason just to smile at least once in a day universe plans to make it the last day of your fragility and gift you a hand full of vestal spring in winter.
    // They say what you seek ,seeks you .And you realise how can you always be a step closer to that blessing you have been unknowingly waiting for.//

    Over the fulgent butterflies, rainbows and all those literary characters you choose the lenity of a nymph to scribe plumbless poesy on .Yes poetry is a person,your favourite one .
    // For your stygian recklessness there always awaits a supernal ether with open arms for a tryst in its lap.//

    If forever is a promise they make to break in future, then seeking a thousand years in a day will be enough just to be lost ,to be found and draw the last breath in a pair of palms that smells like namaz.
    //When a "nothing" finds it's defination all those everything you have been living for suddenly seems meaningless .//
    ©sahoosmruti

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  • sahoosmruti 4w

    May 2021 be the year of kindness towards the animals and mankind .
    Warm greetings !

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    Accepting mediocrity as a complacent is nothing but a threat . And glory is not in giving up but in fighting and declaring triumph over adversities.

    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 4w

    If eternity had a pet name , D would have been it's initial letter . If eulogies could have been replaced with love letters then the smiles it would have caused ,could stop despair to reach the graveyards .And those smiles if someone would have traced,then it could be found in pair of a seldomly smiling eyes .

    On every Christmas eve, if some unfulfilled wishes would have bled to death and the inner self would have guided for being careful enough and not to get hurt by the bleak reality ,vulnerabilities would have been found laying scattered on the kitchen's floor in shape of the footprints belonging to the one who doesn't know even how to say "no".

    If silence would have been a code language and it could have recited verses profoundly ,then a 10 second silence in each 10 minutes phone call could be the best of the poetry to run into.

    If a blind would have got to meet Autumn in person and trace out the distinctive shape of it's face on paper then it would have been looked like the person you visualise first, after closing your eyes .

    Autumn ,the season of soul,passes away . And there are still people who don't know how to write eulogies.

    ©sahoosmruti

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  • sahoosmruti 4w

    In pursuit of happiness my desolation had been wandering alone across the globe. A night before it reached at my door step,seeking shelter in my lap, on my shoulders and in my each bodily parts for a reciprocal conjugation of some fellow feelings.
    I showed her how I framed those ruined photographs on the wall of my living room .She didn't recognise the faces in that frame .She just fleered and talked of a tenebrous alley in the mind of every human where a blue eyed visage arrant about an evanescent blithe that couldn't be a lambency for evading the nakedness of some brutal occurrences.I didn't say a word. I hadn't accepted the opinions of my desolation either . At that point of time I just wanted to assure her that she always has a back to lean on ,no matter to which extent our opinion differs .

    Then there was silence. I spent the whole night sitting there while watching her falling into deep slumber .
    ©sahoosmruti

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  • sahoosmruti 4w

    The stillness
    of photographs
    sometimes
    speak in volumes
    that we avoid
    paying attention to.
    The race we join
    the flame we foster
    marching towards
    a cacophonous velocity
    they all speak about
    stability growth and change .
    We all panic
    to have protection from loss
    in pursuit of cheese cakes
    we get into the rat race
    be it in Yoga or Economics.
    Mental health , domestic violence
    are the issues on which we arrange
    open talks
    discuss politics
    establish
    borrowed notions
    faking high degree
    intellectual spheres
    and take pride in our
    Progressive nature .
    Thinking selves as
    brainy mortals
    we preach practicality
    that retrospect our inner
    hypocrisies
    we adhere to change
    thrust towards growth
    that actually needs
    an obligatory pause
    to sync into
    steady navigation
    like the hanging stillness
    of photographs
    capturing the fleeting seconds
    in a moment
    and turn it into
    a constant .

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    A photograph has the ability
    of capturing fleeting seconds
    into a moment of constancy.
    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 4w

    I puke nonsense
    ramble rants
    bugging about
    twisted lies
    and nurture them
    in empty
    wine bottle
    painting dark autumn
    with fevicryl colours
    over it .

    I forgot
    gambling emotions
    started singing the
    hymns of love
    writing about
    devotion and eternity .
    The bottle I brought
    to plant cyclamen
    I mistook it for a vessel
    full of poetry
    and eneded up drowning
    in it .

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    For
    no poet I am
    I lack the algorithm
    of writing poems.
    I often vomit venom
    and
    it seems sweeter
    seldom .
    ©sahoosmruti