The thought of bleeding
and running out of love
is what makes the pen fall still,
Even though we can always
paint the sky yellow, but the fear
that others never will.
We always look for the spring
without trying to learn
the cold beauty of snow,
Why choose the abandoned cracks to hide
when it can be a place where we can grow?
One day without any warning,
ocean will swallow
the only earth we ought to call home,
So be proud of your heart I say,
for its a whole universe,
let it roam.
Even when your blood dries out
or when the world turns upside down
breaking apart only painting
you ever drew,
Let your heart
have this privilege
of being your first home,
try to look up at sky,
even if it’s blue.
Like clouds and rain
we are supposed to let go pain.
It’s said not to dwell on past
but does mind ever stop?
They command you to
walk on betrayal
then talk about hope.
I know you’re running
out of patience and
have been there myself,
I too am
tired of hearing
songs of disguised elf.
You must be brave though
breathing after blood and war,
You have left flesh
and became poetry
I am proud of you
for coming this far.
My heart ache for the souls left unheard,
Be it humans or that caged bird.
If I could be the voice, I would shout all day,
Will mold my lungs to breath everyone’s pain away.
No one should be hushed, for earth belongs to all,
Have this desire to hold everyone and never let them fall.
Whole universe cries every time anyone’s dream shatters,
Every word, every smile, every single breath matters.
Not my usual way of writing. I hope this turns out to be okay.
In middle of an argument the poet left one day. He was certain that he is better on his own and needs nobody to be content. He left the garden of poppies, went to Amazon, sahara and Everest. He was delighted at the thought of living his life to the fullest and converted his pain into art, wrote a lot of books and was really well liked.
On the other hand when he left, poem was shattered, but she decided to live, as she is the sole reason for a poet to live. She was certain that the poet will come back but after some time she gave up on hope and broke down in abrupt stanzas. She still is beautiful because words never lose their magic, but now she don’t know how to rhythm anymore. Art knew she was fine, as there were no cuts and bruises on her wrist and elbows.
One day poet realized that he can never escape the poem. Where ever he went, she was with him. Poem was his only source of inspiration and the soul of his words. He decided to go back.
When poet came, poem knew the way a poet cannot escape a poem, the poem can never abandon a poet too. Poem was delighted to see him but realized she no more belongs to anyone. She was a barbarian now and have become very dangerous. She still loves the poet but cannot commit to him. What should the poem do now?