People dance when the music comes in,
And they cry when the words hit them.
Just a little tale of melody. Of words making love to music.
Amidst friendships and euphoria,
And love beside them with a cigarette dangling.
Between those stages
Of subconscious and consciousness
A safe haven.
But somewhere between the search
Of reality and truth
I looked around
That would heal.
The one that would leave scars
To bring back
And the euphoria
The back and forth
Back and forth
Time and Time again.
Never had I known
You're not of me
But I am
Of you, yours
I didn't see her color of
the skin to fall in the love,
I saw the purity of her heart to fall in love.
What would you do for Love?
The proper answer for this question is, whatever which is possible and make sense. but as per instruction I am listing out 10 things.
2. Quality Time
P.S- First of all we have to learn to give those things to ourselves. if we don't have it for ourselves, we won't be able to truly give it to someone else.
Flying through the colours of the story of our time.
We made one another happy, I was yours and you were mine.
A smile here and there, a smile everywhere.
Places we travelled we made our mark.
You followed me to every place: some happy and some dark.
At one point the music played but time for us stopped.
I felt my heart beating, and felt yours dropped.
You froze, held my face in your hands and kissed me hard.
In that moment, tensions released. I let down my guard.
I trusted you...
You were my prince in shining armour saving my day.
Until the time came, on a day so sad, me you betray.
My heart grew cold and shattered into pieces of ice.
Love was a gamble baby, and d...
I am where I belong
The place my heart is beating for
In your arms , on your bed
Our flesh being caressed
With each other's soul
Shall we feel the warmth of hug
& The magic behind the kiss
Go beyond infinity
To Make Love deep & beautiful
You sing lullaby
Your voice echos in mind
Making me sleep beside you
How lovely , it is to be your love
Let's be together forever
For this life 💞
When you truly love yourself
you will take everything with the stride,
You will graciously accept yourself
just as you are,
without giving a damn about what people say about you.
Until that day,
take a step everyday towards loving yourself.
For some, my poetries are senseless words,
For others, a way to woo their lovers,
Some ask, 'What do you think when you write?'
Others say, 'Your words, they give us respite!'
Some think it is their right to judge me,
Others feel the need to defend, you see,
I wonder what to say to either of the two,
Cause I know neither one has any clue,
My words, when they read, they interpret their way,
No one wants to know, what I actually have to say,
Why should I label them as right and wrong?
To each their perception rightfully belongs,
For when the poet will interest you, more than the poetry,
That's when you'll understand my words, know the real me...!
Maybe, within the waves of change...
We must lose ourselves first..
... Before finding who we are.
Writing is my escape. When there are unlimited words to read, my own thoughts are often difficult to find.
Essentially, writing separates my mind from my own reality and creates a path that takes to a journey to the person that will read it.
I am not crazy,
I just can't let my heart settle in a cage.
I was born wild and sometimes I need to write to let my chaos go away.
That is the essence of my inner freedom.
The light of the words that I choose cause the flames in yours.
And I was always willing to burn for everything that I ever loved.
Forgetting about what is polite or proper to explore into what is sincere and honest.
Let me lead you through the labyrinth of my true words.
My presence carried me. I was tasting life. Walking down the concrete aisle, amongst lampposts that shedded ephemeral light, something the dissipating night was consuming as the cold breeze floated by. The November azure was washing away and all I was truly aware of was that alongwith the passage of time I was gulping down the scenic stream of liveliness and existence. A sense of purpose poked me, right in the chest and then my indulgence in wallowing was stirred by a demand of an answer which I let it pass. I belonged to myself. I belong to me. Can none desecrate my belongingness or shame me or my puny feet that meddle in the affairs of this worldly vision or cloudy dreams....
‘In Great Health ‘
A shadow lurks in the vicinity of my mind and at every seam that appears peering, it howls. I have traversed years and births to contain the sanity of it and I have been keeping up and doing good but the ephemeral derangement eventually finds its course back to where it had once begun. I feel like a lost poet who sincerely, but hastily, is trying to find his verses. I’m but in good and in great health.
Now, as I recite this anecdote as a raconteur, I’m soundly aware of the fact that every other being that’s awake for the night to pass is or has been going through the same. Somewhere at every aching and longing that embalms the dead purpose within, does the walker walks an...
It's exactly a month to my birthday. (I don't know why/how that is relevant here, but well..) I was studying in the reading hall for an exam scheduled later in the afternoon. Mind you, it's pitch dark but I'm certain I heard a rooster go coo-ka-doo-coo. Sit back, hold still, grab your popcorn, here it comes- while walking back to my room there was this dog waiting outside the reading hall, and for no good reason I felt like he was there, just for me. *chuckles*
So I lightly pat his back, as I usually do to my dog-friends and got on my way. But this doggo wanted to play at 4 am in the morning. He jumped and frolicked around me as if he were challenging me to some sort of...
And a poetess
Fell in love.
And their union
Like a night sky
A star and the moon
Playing hide and seek
Behind the covers
Dripping down their
With drops of rum
And their stories
Clinging to each other
Of their wrenched hearts.
And a poetess
Fell in love.
Like the evening sky
Where the day kisses
And the heavens blush
In the open
On their skins
And honey dripped
Off their skins.
Their sensuous touches
Through each other's bodies
Like a dead leaf
If you are reading this is because something happened, neither good nor bad just happened.
Since you were 7 years old, you had the gift of writing. Every time a subject called your attention you took a pencil and a paper and you started writing.
Maybe today you do not feel the same, maybe today you can not write more but what I can tell you right now and believe me, is that when you had a passion for something as big as the one you had, somewhere in your memory there is still that flame.
Every day sit down in front of a piece of paper and write what you feel, with your open heart in your hand and let yourself go.
As time passes, the sensation of that flame that seems extinguished today, w...
I peel off the skin,
A little burnt,
From the scorching
Between my lips.
I peel off the skin,
Slowly and steadily.
Dead as it is,
A part of me.
A part you kissed
A little burnt
Since you left
And most importantly
I peel it off
I embrace someone,
And they don't
What it was like,
If she's better
Or you were...
Once upon a time I had a very snarky English teacher. While looking down her nose at us she would carry on about how her students were always below average and couldn’t grasp concepts.
No one was able to surmount the Everest that was her intellect. In short, we all despised her.
One week, we were studying haikus - structure, subjects, 5-7-5, etc. She had us write out our own- I saw an opportunity and I seized it.
Mine read as follows-
“Five syllables here,
And seven more for this line,
And this class still bites.”
That made her crack up and the haiku went up on her whiteboard for the week.
Question me more, I feel healed
Drill down your thoughts inmost
The smallest pores that cross your vision
Just don't abandon me
Your words flowing in never hurt
The blood flooding out of me does,
Once upon a time,
Where now endless tears fall.
The moans, taste of passion
Now that bitter taste of pain.
The bed lays cold,
There they created
Spoke of dreams,
Learning one another.
There they build a future,
A family, togetherness.
Yesterday’s fragrance made her
Sick, but his betrayal
Tortured her soul.