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rant short poem

Note to self

Write freely? Let the words fall in place? Write with no strings attached? No.
Try writing with all your emotions attached to that one word which made you write in the first place. Read shitty poems on internet, write shitty poems on internet and re read your work. Because, who cares. Be your biggest fan. Take the compliments, take them all. It took you so much to reach here, stand your ground and take all the praise. Write what you want when you want and where you want. Fall in love and don’t try to hold it in anymore. Let yourself fall and let yourself love. Don’t be afraid to have your heart broken. It’s about time, just live.

~ 🧜‍♀️

Categories
short poem

Sorrow’s Vertigo

The song of fragments
stitched together by memories,
The wound must bleed.
The lasts are more important than firsts
the last word
the last time
the last place.
empty lies on the promise
of better tomorrow.
Sorrow of seconds dissolved in minutes
heavy heart in a discolored room.
It keep coming
in the past, present and future
From wishing on falling stars
to fall like stars.

~🧜‍♀️

Categories
short poem

The sound of time

We were walking the same path
she- in colours
me- in hues.
A path everyone keeps
talking about.
I steal glances to make sure I’m okay
she glances to make me feel okay.
We crossed oceans
one heavy with depth
Another heavy under the depth.

The intensity with which
one resemble their mother
is terrifying.
For a few days or so,
like the waves we leave
then return
we always come back
there’s always home, in mother.

Wrapped hands around knees
The thrill of beginnings in my heart
without realising
I keep turning into my mother.

Categories
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
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
NaPoWriMo

Art is Agony

The way things are,
I’m having hard time being okay with that.
They say- forever never lasts long,
HOW to be okay with that?

I see my friends turning to art,
Reading shit and calling shots.
WHAT is the meaning of art?
WHERE do I shoot my shot?

I’m afraid of asking questions
for all my WHAT go unnoticed.
The cat on my patio is purring unnecessarily
Is she afraid of living, unnoticed?

All the questions are hiding
hiding behind question marks,
Despite the endless possibility of no’s
All of us are looking for more,
Childhood wounds are surely popular
to leave marks.

Categories
NaPoWriMo

To bake a cake in the eye of the Storm

It hurts to grow old, he said
with a hint of pain in his eyes,
and looked at his trembling hands
maybe was trying to recognise something.

“Movement is tiring” he said
to bake a cake in the eye of the storm,
To see the same souls and faces
in all the people, in all the forms.

I wonder if it gets better
for they say everything does,
People generalise though
And when they do,
do they think of us?

Maybe it’s more about losing
than to fit in,
All the storms took things from us
But I miss the spot
We used to sit in.