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blog anniversary gratitude short poem

Watertight compartments

A house always does
what a house should do
no matter the cost,
for the benefits are worth.

A high wall, a decorated lawn
Pretty to look at
hard to be seen.
A tall gate, beautiful colours
Stone-cold beauty
Impregnable.

Empty marbles
Indeed a marvel!
A graveyard waiting for all
to join in,
Can’t claim all the land.
Why don’t you just live?

Categories
short poem

Purple Days

Categories
short poem

Of life and living

Tipsy nights are amusing;
A striking fashion of wind.
Always the same? not quite.
Hibiscus- a quite calm scent,
A sent through the oppressed walls.
Distance is luxury.
More the distance, more the beauty.

A lavish scene – tens of buildings
glued together; strangers.
Tip-toeing youth
“You should walk more”
The tiring routine of life
“Walk more and live long”.

Seldom talking mouths,
keen eyes and trembling hands.
Another day to live
to claim
to pass.

How fragile- life
How hard- living.

Categories
poetry

Sanity is not a Statistics

Life is a journey, they say.
In search for words
in the corners of the world,
It seems easy.
Unknown vernacular is scattered
on the long forgotten floor.
Mist from long lost feet echoes-
A language of ancient times.

Memory is nothing but
a forgotten language.
No one other than you can speak it.
No one other than you know it.
No two people in a memory
remember it the same.
We often hear ourselves asking others,
“Remember this, remember that”?

Memories written on the skin
are lethal.
How do you describe a touch
that no longer exists!
Existence is a whole other thing,
let’s not go there.
But
everything exists in a memory.




Categories
short poem

Thoughts

I come here to say the exact same thing
For the warmth of your wing,
I’m tired of the know-it-all world
of being here, terrified and curled.

Poets on the streets say, it’s okay
Encouraging us to live another day,
Who knows about the next second?
Society is crying, stressing over.

You see this world will never know
Nor do they care anymore, now,
You and I, we all are going to die
let’s, just once, try to fly.

Categories
poetry Prompt poetry

Languorous eyes- Villanelle

Piercing gaze of pines;
So much life on the verge of dying but
Languorous eyes can’t save anyone.

We lose something everyday;
I’m calling us we, though
The Art of losing is really easy.Let’s try to see things as such;
Hearts overflowing with hope always end up as disasters.
Languorous eyes can’t save anyone.

Let’s try to see things as such;
Hearts overflowing with hope always end up as disasters.
Languorous eyes can’t save anyone.

Categories
rant short poem

Home

Home.
Comfort to some
trigger warning to others.
I know you hate my generation
The self labbed
Woke people
Who are drunk on one side of a story.
I am a generation
The one who is totally
Failing at being what
We’re to be.
You take pride in
Densely packed
nervous buildings
glued together with curiosity,
not hope.
And call this a living.
You and I have
different understandings of home.
I have seen too much of waves
to call shore
As my home.

Categories
poetry

Allegory

We talk about grass
the way one talks about earth.
You can argue that
it’s the same thing
but honey, it’s not.
Earth is the one who nurtures,
lets the life grow
out of it
and have enough strength
to support life.
Earth is a mother’s womb,
heart of a father,
The eyes of the couple won’t/can’t be convinced.
Grass is life.
It can’t grow on its own,
It can’t see
how green it is
or how beautiful
the world think
a vast, lively field is.

Categories
NaPoWriMo

Colour of beach bark

She smelt like the old stories
The Ones my mother sang,
her huge house was a shell
a garden,
lacking only a spring.

She told us tales
of people who left her behind,
I was in awe of all that she had
And what she didn’t.

Her daughter was of my age
A pretty face and fragile hands,
A girl, surrounded by people
A girl, no one could understand.

I fell in love with her boy
The walking beauty
of our gloomy beach,
His heart was a sacred place
a glittering thing, I couldn’t reach.

He’d walk on words
and swim in love
But we failed to keep in touch.
My memory seems forgotten
like the book you don’t miss much.

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Haiku

Haiku

Writing is cool
Words in my tired head
To read is to live