ak_anjali_daydreamzz

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  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 1d

    #start
    All Rights Reserved
    18 Oct 2021 1 pm

    Magoa - A heartbreaking feeling that leaves long lasting traces, visible in gestures and facial expressions /

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    ✢// Magoa

    Her eyes look like unheard stories
    Vermilion veins pumping poignancy
    An epoch awaiting disclosure
    Unraveling in the mangata of onyx moons
    A thesaurus of grief grinding in
    Cobblestones of twineyes

    Her lips fade like unsung symphonies
    Notes and notations trembling on beats
    An orchestra ostracized for odds
    Unveiling in the dead nocturne
    A nightmare of nelipot umbrage
    Pernicious pallid pillows

    Her nose nests like untold thoughts
    Breath by breath amassing stray strings
    An abyss of alienated articles
    Unwinding in the twilight of themis
    A lawful lobe linked to light
    Aroma of agape love

    Frowns on her forehead floats unseen
    Twitch of her teeth tricks unheard
    Sighs of her solitude sinks unknown
    Tears of her tales drowns unsaved
    Beats of her bones left unfelt

    Magnitude of magoa in musings
    Nuances numinous as nepenthe

    Yet sans a heart brimful of bliss and blues
    She mourns as a mute museum mondaze

    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 2d

    #mondo
    All Rights Reserved
    17 Oct 2021 11.11 am

    These are unique color shades ^_^


    Hues of Haven ~
    Mondos /


    1- What does Xanadu evoke ?
    Part grey of monotone idle and part green of vibrant melodies, fusion of factual and fancy /

    2- What is Sarcoline shade ?
    Orange of sunset dreams melting on brown of barren mind, forlorn falling and fading out /

    3- What burns Coquelicot ?
    Fire of rage and rain of passion where orange and red twist and turn, swirling desire and dare /

    4- What does Smaragdine suture ?
    The emerald emotions and jocund jade, needles of time spin and spin, till scars heal /

    5- What is Mikado's muse ?
    Sweven of sunshine to sashay in spring where blooms of yellow beams in warmth and joy /

    6- Why does Glaucous glitter ?
    Sprinkle of tints and shades on plums and plains, powdery snowflakes of winsome winter /

    7- What welcomes Wenge ?
    Earthly dust and coppery crumbs, duals on homesick wanderers land, wafting wonders /

    8- Where does Fulvous fly to ?
    Flashing fervour and beckoning butterscotch, blurs into beams, basking in shadows of rage /

    9- What does Falu follow ?
    Heated halos and mixed mischiefs, painted on scenery of serenity and solitude, a rusted rouge /

    10- What is the ecstasy of Eburean ?
    Washed off white and ironed ivory, parchments pastel and pigments of past /

    11- What amuses Amaranth ?
    Bleeding mortals and blaming immortals, blooms believed to never beseech, everlasting love /

    12- What color does Poetry fade into ?
    Poetry pours in multitude hues, beyond beholder's blues and above amassing vibgyors, it melts into shades of souls /

    ©Anjali Krishna
    All Rights Reserved

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    ✜// Hues of Haven

    What color does Poetry fade into ?

    Poetry pours in multitude hues, beyond beholder's blues and above amassing vibgyors, it melts into shades of souls

    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 3d

    #pastoralpoem #ak_sonnets
    16 Oct 2021 10.10 am
    All Rights Reserved
    @btslove coz you missed my sonnets ♡♡

    Ukiyo - live in the moment /

    SONNET XVIII - ABAB CDCD EFEF GG
    10 syllables each line /

    Thank you so much for EC ��

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    ❈// Ukiyo

    Come my love, ov'r the hills and far away
    Where saffron sun waltz in the earliest
    To grace gold wheats and greet green willowway
    While zephyr welcomes us playing trumpet

    Come take a stroll on the valleys with me 
    Where anklet of brooks caress heart of rocks
    Glides ove' fancy's feather, cascades free 
    Let thoughts fade, let's fly high with gleeful flocks

    Come taste the bliss of beaut, as raw as real
    Let's play hide and seek in the latibule
    Where meadows adorn floral carpets leal
    Bask in the afterglow of crepuscule

    Let's live a foreve' under the welkin
    Without worn walls 'round, till our hearts meltin' 

    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 4d

    #life
    All Rights Reserved
    15 Oct 2021 12. 05 am
    / Eudaimonia - the condition of
    human flourishing or of living well /
    ___________________________________


    •| Eudaimonia |•

    Scene ~

    I was a toddler tulip when Ma bathed me in our backyard, golden komirebi illuminating the bubbles floating around me while Nani was humming a folklore under the banyan tree. Leaflets swayed to the rhythm of her song, zephyr in tryst with tempo. Nani used to often say, " this banyan tree is as old as our village, it shielded generations from scorching sun, breathed life into countless limbs and wafts the aroma of love and care." She made a wish for the tree to last forever, while I mused on the chances of everlasting evergreen.
    Years past, while I'm scribbling odes to the benevolent bosky, serenading zephyr and redolent flowerets, I can't help but remember Nani, who is now a solivagant star in the vast welkin. While the banyan tree stands tall and proud as if the armour of time enveloping me in an ozone of ornate aura.
    Nurturing nuances are inherent in Nature and we are mere passing clouds intermittently raining and rusting, flying a d fading, daring and dying. The least we could do is to bask in the bliss of whatever grace is bestowed on our lives, of which essence is called e u d a i m o n i a

    © Anjali Krishna
    All Rights Reserved

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    ❅// Eudaimonia

    Synopsis ~

    Ephemeral lives in an eternal nature are
    Perennials in the penumbra of permanence
    Effloresce of epiphany enwrapping eutony
    Evanescence ensues to embrace ethereal

    Stardust breaths swimming in sunshine
    Beaut beings brimming in benevolence
    Wanderers in the willow wonderland
    Arcane aurora's ardent amulets

    Not even a pearl of petrichor is misplaced
    In the maverick memorabilia of marvelous
    N a t u r e
    Life peregrinates from person to person
    Place to place, pole to pole as a parade of
    I m p e r m a n e n c e

    What are we
    But vagaries in the voluptuous verdant
    Soul's stamping signature of scintilla
    On the scrapbook of spacetime

    // Utopia of youniverses in this universe //

    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 5d

    #patheticfallacy
    All Rights Reserved
    14 Oct 2021 10.41 am

    /Poiesis means creation/
    __________________________


    Poiesis ~

    Izles from the chimney
    stutters along with
    the baritone balladry of a broken heart
    fumes fly as far as frore fell from
    Meandering nefeli wore mallacht
    cuddling eldritch emotions
    throughout it's cursus
    Welkin wielded a selcouth scarf of grief
    one which weighed as heavy as her being
    and it gobsmacked gravity
    mocked on the guilt piling on poet's plate
    Verdant vamoosed to vadon as
    venery of a mauvais mind

    Night was a nihilistic noirceur
    and she abhors the terrors it compels on her
    All hearts around her wore
    aphotic armours
    abandoning aurora of her soul
    Cacophonous cicadas cantrips and
    some flireflies dance in the alter of eerie embers
    Moonbeams abvolate
    roaring musings of ire
    and lightning sang the chorus of chaos

    Wazzock of a wanderer
    failed to find hiraeth in the faileas of frìth
    Neferious and noicesome nights
    that stretched nightmares till nexterdays

    Dawn was in a desuetude
    tripping in toska
    and it made sure that
    the aquiver of her quill goes on
    Nature natant in plague
    for the poet to pursue
    p o i e s i s

    ©Anjali Krishna
    All Rights Reserved

    Thank you so much for EC ��

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    ❆// Poiesis

    Dawn was in a desuetude
    tripping in toska

    Nature natant
    in plague for
    the poet to pursue
    p o i e s i s

    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 1w

    #combination #confessionc
    Why do I write poetry ? @writersnetwork
    #ak_prose #ak_wn_repost


    All Rights Reserved
    13 Oct 2021 9.55 am
    _____________________


    Poet-tries ~


    Poetry sits on my tongue like a pack of camphor and I light it with my own hands, without trembling or quivering. It burns me, bleeds me, cuts me, wounds me but not as much as my heart burns inside my ribs //

    I'm someone who hates routine, and discards
    rules, yet I make love to syllables every day w-
    hile the Helianthus heals morning mist with a-
    n upward curve of petals and every night while
    night jasmine drips honey for a far away moon.
    I'm someone who abhors principles, yet I shed
    my thoughts in free verse to seal envelopes of
    poetries just like the autumn wind shakes the
    maple leaves to pirouette all the way to land on
    pavements. I'm someone who abandons legac
    y, yet I stitch sonnets in the sombre seconds of
    existence, levitating between life and death, lo-
    ve and hate, grief and glory.

    I'm someone who ignores traditions, yet throug-
    hout the lane to my hireath, I've planted haikus
    in hues of a dream palette. I'm someone who g
    -ets annoyed with similarities and embellishme
    -nts, but my garden flourishes in similies and m
    -etaphors. I'm someone who skips side dishes,
    but my taste buds are acquaintance of tanka a
    -nd limerick. Repetition irritates me but villanelle
    and blitz are my rainbows and sunshine. I avoid confessions of all kinds, but odes are a mystery
    my mind often whispers. I don't try to pen down
    letters, but love pushes my heartbeats to weave
    my feelings as a kerchief for my dreamboat.
    I don't offer wreaths at the gateway of death,
    but my heart laments in elegies and eulogies.

    I have a spot near the valley at the far edge of the waterfall. There's a river flowing inside me that's gushing to reach there, where I sway with the summer breeze and break myself into specks of wishes. To fly with the wind as multiple wings of a dream, while the world is wailing in winter frore, I'd be sipping the honey of spring.

    It's the aftertaste of that honey, that time treasured on branches of birches, which burns with the fire dancing on my tongue. I chew some chords of ballads and barf symphonies at the eleventh hour, I bleed some phonemes and morphemes as an epitaph and a last will, before the curfew curse imprisons me in slumber. By dawn, poetries had sprouted around my grave with my signature as flowerets and my fading voice echoes around those oxymoronic daffodils and ironic daisies.

    If my poem doesn't rhyme, the feet of every syllable twirling inside the wineglass of my thesaurus glides through my throat until my emotions overflow at a spontaneous symphony. Behind my broken heart, I carry tapes of teary notations and discs of euphonious rhythm, the treasure chest in my soul never empties, as long as my life's lit on this altar.

    Poetry is my last hope to revve up the stars falling astray Painting the welkin with broken crayons in my bag of blueth //

    ©Anjali Krishna
    All Rights Reserved

    Thank you so much for Repost ❤️ @writersnetwork

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    ⍚// Poet-tries

    Poetry sits on my tongue like a pack of camphor and I light it with my own hands, without trembling or quivering
    It burns me, bleeds me, cuts me, wounds me but not as much as my heart burns inside my ribs //

    Poetry is my last hope to revve up the stars falling astray
    Painting the welkin with broken crayons in my bag of blueth //

    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 1w

    #imagery
    12 Oct 2021 12 pm

    [ Sùton - sunset
    Scripturient- passionate writer ]

    { Swirl-nib - I made this word for pen
    and dusk-ink - for ink of night }



    Thank you so much for EC ��

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    ⍜// Sipping Sunset

    Sùtons pour
    saffron saké of sour aches
    for my scripturient soul 

    Swirl-nibs devour
    tangy tart of dusk-ink as if
    dawn'd ne'er smooch me


    |.no.soul.is.as.thirsty.as.a.poet's.pen.addicted.to.pain.|


    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 1w

    #wild feeling wild/
    All Rights Reserved
    11 Oct 2021 10.33 am
    Lazamon's Brut ends similar line/
    _____________________

    When Whims Wander Wild ~
    Stories/

    Petals passled on panorama
    Paintspray of pollen prime /
    Some seeds of washed away dreams blossomed as wildflowers when hope drizzled over and dawn dusted them with glitter of glee
    They grew thwarting borderlines and thrashing boundaries, too strong for fear to nip yet too delicate for time to cwtch
    ~ winsome wildflowers //

    Timber tryst with time
    Tall and taupe, tinted thick /
    Some walls welcome warmth and grow up throwing branches to the welkin, intent to reach, intel to soar, inspire to stay rooted
    They hold hands in twigs and leaves, form arrays of labyrinth permitting navigation, entrusting the wind to waltz in whims
    ~ welcoming wild woods //

    Fusion flames of forlorn and fantasy
    Fernwah on fire, fighting fabht /
    Some flames don't duel on fondness of luminosity, they burn enraged to take vengeance on natant mirth
    They set ablaze anything on their path, saffron pyre creeping on caves and crevices, ways and worlds, gulping martyr muses
    ~ wanton wildfire //

    Flesh of prey, blood of plight
    Fighting fate and playing plate /
    Some lives are stranded on estuaries, futile footprints on coasts, meandering on marshlands and migrating moribund
    They flourish in dusks and flail in dawns, waging wars with weather, brave yet branded to bane, their cries are left to an ignorant fate
    ~ wailing wildfowl //

    Territories trailed by trambles
    Thrones and thorns forbid trespass /
    Some territories forbidden trespassing, their nature and laws strict on nurture and freedom, lives that deserve no shackles
    They blend in harmony, respire selcouth symphony, orchestra a language of love unadulterated, all they need is not be meddled with their sustenance
    ~ warzone wildlife //

    Wide and cast stretched wilderness
    Whims waltzing in and out wondrous /
    Some minds are inlands of wilderness, not a lane of narrowness mapped, only left with trails of none/less trodden pathways
    Spontaneous and sporadic, nefarious and notorious, unfiltered and unconditional, they are the ones most capable of love and light, dare and death, sin and sane, win and war - they don't exist, they live with passion - there, most vulnerable the cruelest of all creatures
    ~ wilderness within //

    © Anjali Krishna
    All Rights Reserved

    Thank you so much for EC ❤️

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    彡// When whims wander wild

    Some minds are inlands of wilderness, not a lane of narrowness mapped, only left with trails of none/less trodden pathways
    Spontaneous and sporadic, nefarious and notorious, unfiltered and unconditional, they are the ones most capable of
    Love and light, dare and death, sin and sane, win and war
    They don't exist, they live with passion - there,
    most vulnerable the cruelest of all creatures

    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 1w

    #anaphora #start - / I love ... /
    #ak_alphabets #ak_anaphora

    All Rights Reserved
    9 Oct 2021 3.35 pm
    ____________________



    The Zenith of Poetic Euphoria ~

    I love the ambience art that articulates the arduous amendments into aesthetic ambrosia
    I love the brio burble of byzantine balladry that embalms the buxom air enlightening embers
    I love the clangour of classics declouding the caligo that cantrips the catharsis of caelum
    I love the deiform daydreams that accentuate the deeds and desires to deesis anabiosis
    I love the effulgent emission of komirebi encircling the realms in ethereal enchantments

    I love the floresta of flowerets framing faraway hiraeth that fixates my fantasies
    I love the glossy garments and glittery garlands that poetry adorn my ardent soul
    I love the halo of halcyon days laying and layering on hallways of whilend hallucinations
    I love the intense inklings of the mind ignifing the incandescent indwells of the soul
    I love the jocund journals of jovial as well as jarring hearts pirouetting the purpose of life

    I love the kaleidoscopic thoughts overcoming the kalopsia of moments and oracling knowledge
    I love the lonesome mangata lightening the tapestry of deepening doldrums as a solasta
    I love the metanoia marvels of wandering monks and meandering nefelibata soaring high
    I love the nubivagant nuances prancing through the welkin of nomadic aislings
    I love the oratory obeisance of a solitary soul to the dawning era of renaissance

    I love the phosphenes pondering within budding twineyes unfurling in my poesy
    I love the quivering notations revolving around the strings of my rhythmic passion
    I love the reflection of reminiscence wavering as prismatic beams on the face of agelast
    I love the susurrus swish and swirl of ink that has harmonized with the rhythm of my respire
    I love the theurgy of solitude embracing the scintilla of sensibilities evoking eunoia

    I love the undivided attention of a moment transpiring as ukiyo, prevailing in tranquil
    I love the voracious ventures of a wholesome vagabond swirling through the frames of time
    I love the wakening warmth of aurora lighting up hopeful hues slumbering in shadows
    I love the xanthic tint of parchment longing for promising engravings to beam upon ages
    I love the yodelling syllables of a metamorphosing poet yearning for the ears of just

    I love the zenith of poetic euphoria, the everlasting zeal of a poet, the eternal elixir of imagination

    © Anjali Krishna
    All Rights Reserved

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    I love the deiform daydreams that accentuate the deeds and desires to deesis anabiosis

    I love the susurrus swish and swirl of ink that has harmonized with the rhythm of my respire

    I love the yodelling syllables of a metamorphosing poet yearning for the ears of just

    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz

  • ak_anjali_daydreamzz 2w

    #start #foreverc #fallingc #cloudsc #apologizec #smokec
    #brokennessc #almostc #octoberc #timetoleavemylove
    @milliondreamsarekeepingmeawake I ended same line !
    #ak_prose

    All Rights Reserved
    7 Oct 2021 11 am

    (Beatrice means - she who makes happy )


    Beatrice to Beethoven ~

    I love night walks, I've always loved the streets stretching long and wide before me, luring me to measure the distance between my love and my destiny, which stays hidden amidst white lights, pink frames and pied piper's songs. Even tonight I'm walking, with half a mind to stop, just return back home and the other half urging to walk until I surpass this scenery. The one which will be engraved on my mind in bold tints of hues - a buried symphony of rain(tear)drops.



    Loud zephyr surged through birches lining the asphalt. Lonely footpaths are piling heaps of dried dreams, that once had palmistry of a prospering future. Just like the rosy lines on my pale palm, they are fading and blurring. Leaving mere marks that resemble scars of being alive. Maybe they'd never disappear. Maybe they'd stay forever on me. Reminding me that I once had umpteenth possibilities, all of which got flooded by unrestricted emotions.

    The ache in my heart is tracing branches of thunderstorms lighting the darkening night sky in flashes. It all started from a single drop, that leisurely rolled off my forearm, slowly. Falling, falling and then hitting hard on the concrete crossroad. Welkin left no raindrop orphaned. More of those tragic pearls fell like an ornament of the heaving clouds. 

    Fogged streetlights adorned divinity as if a halo, blessing otherwise pitch black way. With every step I took, I let some tear drops cuddle the enlarging puddles on my way. Some steps deliberately stomped on fallen leaves, unwilling to lock away my distress. 'It must be October', my hazy mind tried to reason, why my pathway is paint-dipped in crimson-maroons and amber-bronzes. Just like my red-rimmed eyes and scar-studded thighs. 

    A heart that once poured love like marvelling monsoons have now closed off with raging smoke, a clouded mind.
    It's almost impossible to believe that he's unaware of the ways he's transformed 'from beaut to beast'. His hands tremble so hard if he can't refill poison pools in the glass bottles. Mirrors showed him neither reality nor fantasy. Music is no more his high, notations are mind maps to hell, a trepidating trap. 

    Echoes have left him aeons ago, whispers can't reach him even within hairline distance. Trumpets and drumroll veiled silence, piano poignantly ponders, violins wail intermittently. Euphony unreachable, cacophony undeterred. All that left was a mirage of eutony, not even approachable. And caresses have withered as soon as winter bound him in frore, lending me blossoming whiplashes.

    I stayed by him like a shadow that has taken an oath of solemnity. But there's only so much I can do when none of my attempts could disclose his despair. He was hell-bent on pushing me away. Would promises wither if their voices travel back to their origin ? Would love disappear if the hearts unwind their own beats ? Would forever fall down to never-again if brokenness gravitied the fall ? Who is to apologize to whom, if both are hurt and keep hurting each other ?

    This wretched rain has drenched me depressed yet my heart is shielding a drought rooted in loss. This scenery is fated to fade in forlorn.
    And every foggy breath I exhale is chanting a farewell to my once-wished-eternal-spring -
    " It's time to erase this scenery.
    It's time to leave, my love..." 

    / I couldn't be a Beatrice to his Beethoven
    For I'm Betrothed to Brokenness /


    © Anjali Krishna
    All Rights Reserved

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    I love night walks, I've always loved the streets stretching long and wide before me, luring me to measure the distance between my love and my destiny, which stays hidden amidst white lights, pink frames and pied piper's songs. Even tonight I'm walking, with half a mind to stop, just return back home and the other half urging to walk until I surpass this scenery. The one which will be engraved on my mind in bold tints of hues - a buried symphony of rain(tear)drops.

    ©ak_anjali_daydreamzz