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 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.
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 .
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 .
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 .
Dear Stargazers in this Universe, Drop a if you feel so within the verse. Convey your suggestions in the comment section, I'll be thankful. ------------------------------------------------------------- ** Myriads of mystery wrapped in mantle of azure sky Scintillating stars, bewitching enough to entice the beholder's eye Silver silhouettes of hope shimmering in realms of darkness & death Likewise your dulcet love is enough to catch my breath.
Dear #Voyagers of #Universe Shower some ❤ if you feel me within the verse. Convey your suggestions, I'll be elated. ------------------------------------------------------------- ** Blistery blustery blizzard breezes blow blatantly to bury the emerald earth under the veil of whiteness Forsaken jewels of sky, the smog-laced snowflakes descend down to caress & bespangle scars With the empyrean enlightenment, snowdrops rise to transform direful day to dazzling day That's how snow-kissed soul meets fire-kissed soul.
Icy catastrophe can't conceal her hope as she's not meant to be broken, but to blossom. **
*GLOSSARY :- Blistery & Blustery - Used for the weather that brings strong waves of wind, Blizzard - Snowstorm, Blatantly - In a Harsh manner, Bury - Hide or Cover, Emerald - Bright green, Veil - Covering or Curtain, Forsaken - Abandon or Leave, Lace - Cloth, Descend - Fall down, Caress - Treat in a loving manner, Bespangle - Decorate, Empyrean - Heavenly, Enlightenment - Light, Direful - Extremely bad, Dazzling - Bright or Colourful, Catastrophe - Tragedy or Violent event, Conceal - Cover * ------------------------------------------------------------- @writersnetwork@writersbay@mirakee@writerstolli
She is a star wrapped up in human form, Unknown to herself Unseen by those around her.
A cell dividing into itself, pulled her in Around it, Then, through it as it divided around her white light.
Growing up, nothing is remembered. She may run too fast, Sometimes sing in voices only trees can hear, But human she is to herself.
She may need solitude, Because when she's alone, She's detached from obligations She don’t need to put on a show, She can hear her own thoughts And feel what's her intuition is telling her.
But the truth is, Throughout her life there will be times When the world gets real quiet And the only thing left is the beat of her own heart So she'll better learn the sound of it, Otherwise she could understand what it’s telling her
Would her grave be Deeper than her wounds?
Would the warmth of the morning sun Still reach to her cold forgotten body?
She'll leaving you wondering Why storms are named after people
They cut her so deep even stitches Couldn't seal and now her words bleed From wounds that can't heal
She pretended to be okay and she ended up Believing that she is She didn't realize that the more she pretend The more she was breaking. She got lost in her pretences And forgot about reality
She mastered the art of pretending Now its her time to break the mirage because There is so much out there for her to experience and she want to do before its too late.