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.
~🧜♀️
It was just yesterday
That I wrote a poem
to the early spring.
Blooming flowers in my garden
soothe my heavy heart,
every bud glowing green;
Spring is a work of art.
The hollow earth
beneath my feet
is now as lively as a new born,
Sometimes I feel I romanticise
spring too much
but, I am not willing to unlearn.
It’s April now.
It’s sowing in the hills
and plains don’t know
what to feel about that,
Maybe because the world
isn’t over the beauty of winter
yet.
In return, spring gave me
early rains
Humid winds came knocking
on my window,
Altostratus clouds are hovering over
and the spring wrote, “to be continued…”
I have lost my train of thoughts.
It feels like my ‘self’ moved on
but my shadow is still there,
In the snow
And everywhere.
Life is a dictionary of things.
Most come and go.
Some make us home
others are at a distance,
But none of them are lost.
Like tears, they remain,
always a part of us.
With a few bold decisions
they say
“You can take anything you want.”
But, what about the things that
don’t belong to us?
Is it ethical to run and cry
for things?
Or do we just choose
“Suffering” and look for “sacrifice”?
What exactly is life? A collection of things? Or a thing?
My heart is a building/
memories blow/
like the wind/
Seekers shall find
home in my bones/
My skin shall always
relive the moments here/
even if I go blind/
I draw hearts/
on the glass/
that shelters dew drops/
for love is all I know/
And to embrace the pain/
is no weakness/
For You shall grow/
only when You know/
In the hallways/
wander hearts/
romanticising pain/
In the name of art/
~Ignorant~
you don’t have to turn blue/
everytime/
to know that you’re alive/
Art is apposite/
soulful/
And a smile/
can work wonders/ too/
My poems/
doorways to melancholy/
Past those/ hides/
a happy me/
Centuries ago, during the
course of evolution, humans
brought the whole species
together, on the base of
One belief system; Religion.
We thrived. They say nothing lasts
forever; humans have this obsession
with change,
To know more, To be more.
And now ( fast forward to ‘I’ )
As ‘act of God’
I see my country moulding
beliefs of generations.
God has now become a tool
To control masses; we are given a
Reason to be scared of the sacred.
I see them locked in fancy buildings
like you and me, having
‘no right to speech’, worse,
they can’t even speak because
no one is actually asking them.
/I used to think/
I’m an atheist/
but lately/ I have started to
believe otherwise/ like y’all/
I too have a holy book/
My God is as panicky and breathless
as yours. I watch TV
till my heart starts aching,
I clutch the Constitution
close to my flesh, with hopes
of lending some air to it;
I hear him suffocating.
Then I sleep to the weeping
sound of my God (Constitution);
who cries with all the other Gods
because Gods are dying in my country.
Prompt by Samyak
It’s raining almost every second day,
and I’m learning to bloom from the earth,
From life less branches to bed of dead leaves,
something inside of me is telling me to know my worth.
Sun is always shining over mountains
still, there is this darkness in the woods,
dripping down the lifeless branches
in a way only hope could.
My mind feels quiet than usual
sending the shivers down my spine,
these fingers gripping core of my skin
bringing my stars back to shine.
Sun rays are claiming my body;
reaching the places which need hope the most,
With every breath, life is teaching me to live a little;
I’m falling for love, almost.
~🧜
Also, Instagram
Words feel on my skin like wildflowers and stay in my heart like the pretty snow,
They steal my sky like the shinning stars
Run in my blood wherever I go.
I keep seeing them floating in my eyes
they are the fresh scent in the winds that blow,
For days I keep running towards them to their land and watch the river flow.
For they are the songs that are whispered and bold enough to tear my skies apart,
I keep stealing them from cosmos
Somehow they always manage to fit in my heart.
~ 🧜🏻♀
You asked what I have to offer?
Well nothing much.
Few poetries, painted pots
and your sketches on
coffee dipped sheets.
Weird music, witty remarks
and book stores
of nearby streets.
Few jars of nutella,
breakfast dates,
And wind chimes
on your gates.
We both know
I’m not going to stay.
I promise not to leave
your world, pale and grey.
You’ll start to know metaphors
maybe fall for cliches too?
Love is not supposed to hurt
I will prove this to you.
I promise you’ll learn to go out,
whether it’s summer or snow.
Rain will stop stealing your smile,
I’ll teach you to paint rainbow.
a.mermaid'spen_ 