Starry, starry night
each strand of hair
flirting with summer air.
the table is set.
the candle is lit.
music was playing
but mud in our ears.
into the bucket
falls time like tears.
as we sit across
channeling our cryptic irises
smiling at each other.
a sigh escapes
while emotions tether.
pressing our feet
against the white sand,
we try to follow the band.
as the night takes over
for the day to restart,
we dance to the crescendo
of our beating heart.
To the moon goddess...Poushali
When she walks in the morning
Sunrise would follow her.
The world now turns
Into layers of yellow
To keep the flame of
Light inside her heart
When she walks the shore
Moonbeams would follow her.
she'd listen to the waves,
Watch them as they
Kiss the shore.
She walks slowly
Towards the beach
The sand's wet
And sinks below her feet.
She's a coral reef
Where the waters run deep.
As she touches the water
She takes a breath.
Soon she'll be in the sea and she'll be the sea.
If I travel through time and meet the old me, I'd pat my back and say "You're doing okay, buddy. Hang in there."
Dear Stan Lee,
You inspired us to believe in the superpower that lie latent within all of us.
My scars are not the remainders of the battles I've fought but skirmishes I've won.
If I could go back in time, I'd restart exactly where we left off.
And finish this puzzle.
We loved like there was no tomorrow.
It was a privilege to
Bask in your sunshine,
Trek into your mind,
Sail in your oceans,
Until a giant wave came along
And crashed my dreams.
I hope that one day, you finally find the home you've been looking for. Inside your heart.
True love is words falling like crumbs when furrowed fingertips
slowly caress a sobbing heartache.
I painted a portrait of his mind in kaleidoscopic colours and created a modern art.
The night I peeled off my layers of insecurity to bare minimum is the same night I grew a pair of wings to fly away from the chains of self pity. It felt so liberating like the clothes flapping in the wind. My door was finally opened. Freedom felt like an open road, endless sky, jolly ride and my blues carried away by the tide. It was not just another night. It was an extraordinary night.
The day I realised letting go was more easier than holding on, I let my hair down and walked in the opposite direction of the wind.
I add a tablespoon of thunder and a pinch of lightning to brew a storm inside my cup.
I trace my fingers carefully across the lifelines of his palm, I linger there, absorbing, I nuzzle against the rim of his ears and towards the impeccable nape. I would trade all my sighs to dwell in this moment.
On a highway
I met a lonely tree.
It was green and full of life.
I stopped by to ponder.
For a very long time.
After a very long time
I bid adieu to the good ol' tree
Which reminded me of something
That life is all about
Giving yourself permission
To do something extraordinary
With every gust of wind
The branches danced.
The leaves whispered.
The tree waved back at me.
Nodding in agreement.
Dabs of colour here and there
Splashing, spilling, swirling
Across the night sky
Strain the sky with ink, once dried
Was the artist too bored to play
Or moved to a better concept of display?
Did some wine spill over from the Holy Grail
Perhaps the lights tiptoeing
Left a glitter trail
When you stand there, awestruck, speechless
I want to be a voice that embroiders your words
but I bleed poetry, washed over by cosmic lights.
There is a comfort in knowing that there is not just one but a million ways to fall in love with you.
Sheltered in the deepest layers of my heart, you are a linguistically delicious poem I can't put into words.
Hey Hema Priya,
I just had to write you a personal letter to let you know how much I enjoy your work. I'm not new to letters. I have known about this app for quite a number of years now but I have to admit, I'm more in love with it now because of members like yourself. When I see your name in the feed I'm excited because I'm aware that your words have serious meaning and or depth. You have talent and you're an artist of words. I truly enjoyed your post dated October 22nd on the subject of being an unfinished canvas. That was beautiful and deep. Please keep writing. You give readers like myself something to look forward to.
I had a dream that I stood beneath an orange sky.
I had a moment that lasted like a lifetime.
I had a passion that spelled like your name.
I had a rendezvous that came together like a home.
I had a pen that felt like a sixth finger.
I had an adventure that looked like my life.
No matter how often you water, prune, cut, crop a plant, it withers and dies off as the summer grows into winter. In fact, everything alive will soon be dead anyway. The meaningless, absurd monstrosity of the void cannot be escaped.
Do not fall for any of
My supposed charms.
Come, let's dance together
In the face of calamity
Under the canopy of stars
Distorting in the reflections
Of cosmic puddles.
Let words of love gather
In the old library books and collect dust.
Let's talk reality;
I'm not your stairway to heaven
I'm someone to take a long way home with.
I stare at the mirror, and wonder
At this unfinished canvas before me,
Waiting to turn into
Painting on the wall.
My brushstrokes evoke mixed feelings.
I'm a rough sketch,
smudge, nothing more than
An illustration of my existence.
Maybe I'm too bored to play with colours
But my mind intoxicated
radiates kaleidoscopic hues.
I swallow a sigh
While I pretend to be someone's masterpiece
Being just a whimsical splash
As I walk across existence,
Past neon lights
Through vibrant coloured frames
I exhibit highlights of my every shade.
The sun diffuses into newer shades of orange. The sky is gloomy and overcast. The chilly breeze settles into my hair as I leave the coffee shop and disappear into the crowd. I love monsoons, summer's last gasp, and winter's tendrils slowing wrapping themselves around you.
As the waves
Roll over the turbulent seas
Crashing on the shore,
I want him to see the calm in my eyes and the chaos in my soul.
On a lazy Sunday afternoon, when the neighbourhood was readying for a siesta, the chirping birds circled the vast sky, the breeze muttered tunes of newness,the gushing winds tore the roof of
houses letting the curtains dance a
happy song as we sat down for an 80s movie.
I, on my couch.
He, on my lap.
I brushed his hair gently as
I watched him briskly slip