Category Archives: Poetry

Autobiographic, Poetry

RUNNING WILD

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Pic Credits: Uncaved

Flickering cold grasses

Touch my arms and feet, 

As I lay outside 

With my running thoughts,

And eyes open into 

Misty breezy music.

A voice in my mind,

A breezy crystal voice 

Sings inside.

Songs of pain and sorrows 

As the crystal cuts through 

The flesh and bones,

And pierces my mind. 

I feel the soft grasses and cold sand,

The grass tickles my ears

Howling for my thoughts.

I watch the white flowers

Calling my breezy voice outside

While it runs wild 

With the rushing waters.

The golden warmth 

Kisses me,

And my eyes,

Forgetting the mists of

My mind

Which Stares at this

Warmth, seeping in

Little by little

Through the curtains.

It lays there

Touched by the warmth,

The mist starts fading, with

My crystal voice running wild 

And I run with it.

Covid-19 Quarantine, Poetry

Dated april, 2020

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Self- Portrait

But who will listen to my story

Whether I sleep early

Or I wake up late enough

To drift away in my own thoughts.

Whether I run for sleep

Or sleep runs for me.

Whether I sit and brood over :

The windy breeze, wavy leaves,

Caterpillars and bugs walking

To, who knows, find their homes,

Or away from their homes ;

The strong breeze echoing

And a baby jumping down,

From the cliff of the house,

Floating as if it were the breeze.

Will anyone even listen,

If she sits and ponders upon it

Or is she lost in the seconds, tik-tok, tik-tok,

And now frets about this idea.

When there’s all chaos

Both the outside and inside ;

When people are stuck deadly

In their own loving homes

Where once they returned

For every comfort they craved ;

When people are confused

To even get out of their long-gone comforting beds

To do dishes, wash clothes,

To take a refreshing sip of their favourite tea

And read it all;

When people are struggling

With the simplest of dilemmas,

Will you dear, please

Listen to Your own people !

Post Script: Let’s take really good and heart warming care of ourselves and our loved ones around. Let’s listen better and connect better and even do better fo ourselves. ❤

Poetry

Love is not a feeling

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Image by Deflyne Coppens from Pixabay

Love is not just a feeling,

Not a haze

You’d dream to taste.

Not a light

You’d find in your darkest days.

It is not the hand you take

Which is but rather

A parasite on you.

Love is nowhere

But just in a fraction of time.

Naked love that

Touches your scaly self.

Love is that

Which not only makes you dream

But kicks you back in reality.

It is that

Which shows you

The touch of winter winds,

The smell of warm crimson fumes;

Which makes it bearable for you

To see the gaudy city lights.

Love is a drop

While we look for an ocean;

Or perhaps it is an ocean

While We

Only relish a drop of it.

Post Script: Apologies for using a heterosexual/ heteronormative picture for depicting the poem. The poem looks into over simplified idea of loving someone and looks into loopholes of such love. Even though such instances may exist even in homo-normative love, that would not be the first theme I would want to write about homo-normative love. I think this poem could not do justice to homosexual/ non heteronormative love in a society like ours which is predatorily looking for ONLY loopholes in it.

So, I promise to write a well themed poem about homo-normative and polyamorous love in latter days or months.

Until then enjoy reading and share your views in the comments. Contact me on twitter to get in touch.

Poetry

Forced Inclusion

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Image by Oleksy @Ohurtsov from Pixabay

Such forced inclusion

Into this world

Both the real and virtual,

Esp the social 

But

One can’t deny it,

It’s necessity,

Here.

No matter 

What the personal choice is,

Because the personal

Was never personal anyway.

There are as many lenses

As one can think of.

Of different shades 

And shapes.

Might as well remove it 

And rejoice in this sightful blindness

Once in a while.

Poetry

A memory, a song

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Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

Every other minute passes by

Watching the light fade away

Going down somewhere

Into it’s own abyss

And you walk along looking for it

You walk

Watching all the latent cries

Crying together, resonating each other,

You go pleasantly following the music

Deeper into silenced streets

Not knowing where it goes

But following just one thought,

A memory! A song!

All you see is deep blue sea

And you swimming into in,

Following the fading light and the cries

Following the memories,

Nobody knows the real purpose

As it is unclear to you too

Nonetheless, walking into it

Relying on Nothing

But the memories, the songs and the cries

In a moment you realise

Your life is but just a memory

You live in a memory,

You ponder upon a memory

And maybe you’ll die in a memory too

But death is nowhere,

All there is is the neverending abyss.

Meanwhile an imposture wakes up

With all the tweeting and banging the spirited songs

Veiling all the popped up smiles and happiness.

Hey! Check out the song.

The song automatically comes to mind while I publish this poem, mostly because of its spellbinding music. Though the theme of the song is unique and it does not has any direct link to the poem at all.

More like a stream of consciousness. 😉

Autobiographic, Poetry

December Bleeding

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I miss those December days when I could sink into my bed

All warm and cozy.

Nowhere else for my mind and myself to wander

But in myself or just in all the mist outside.

And I’d feel every drop or rush of blood,

With the outside cold and mist,

And sometimes it rained hard,

And I could easily find the symphony

In the blood rain

And water droplets outside.

Every bloody wave came with a newly intense emotion,

Emotion that I did not want to do away with.

Because come on! Those were my December days,

With the cold winter outside and this warm blood inside.

So with every new wave,

I’d pamper myself with all the love

I had for myself.

I felt this rush inside and outside…

How could I not

But just have care for myself.

Eeeeeeh! Bliss are the days of period, total bliss.

Only if it were December days again,

I’d sink into my bed

And sleep like a babe again.

Poetry

PROFOUND LOWER LOVE

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For She rarely dreamed
Of passion and accomplishment.
For her life was ruled with
Love and affection.

While He was one of the truly
Passionate people anyone would meet.
Always burning with hope and progressive ideas.

Maybe she couldn’t have flourished with him.
Maybe he wouldn’t respect her love and affection.
Maybe she couldn’t keep up with his burning fire.
Maybe they’ll both die in the same fire.

But they rised!
For she learnt the fire out of him.
And he learned the warm blood with her.

Profound as it may sound
For they burnt and rised
With each other’s strengths
Instead of sucking on each others weaknesses.

For She would talk and talk and talk
And He would stay mute and mute and mute.
For even when she was Fil-l-ed with all the weeds and mud,
She would talk.
And he would stand mute.
For when she grew tired of talking
His silence would provide some solace.

For when her words
Were thrown back at her
By The Elders,
He’d ask her to stop.

For she was better of a fighter than him.
But never would he leave her alone.
Silence and calmness is all
He could speak with.

For even if they were too embarrassed
Of the heat of love,
Their words
Were love enough!

She studied but had to stop.
He was a better qualified scholar
than Her.
Even if their standard qualifications differed,
Both,
Were the faces and voices
Of Struggles and Fights.
Just different spaces
And different ways,
Fighting for common rights.

Having no much time
To touch and behold
To feel each others arms
And fingers
And lips,
Their heat
Would still find solace
In the heat
Of their struggles and fights.

For such is the profound lower Love
With uncommon ways
Of humour and intellect
But only aligning fights.