yuktibhatiaaaHi, I really liked your way of writing and would love to have u as the co-author of my upcoming anthology 'The Broken wings'. If interested do connect with me at @yuktibhatiaaa on insta. You will be charged a minimal amount for it. just drop into my DM pls dont mind if I have already contacted u.
I seek no grace untouched by blood, Lover Is my winter my holy fire In middle of the cold night. Her words, ring sweet as a chime of gold her words a poetry to my naked soul. She Is the girl of my dream whose words to me all victorian poetry. Her fair skin bright as Nazi lampshade hazel eyes deep and bright as the lunar arcade.
I dreamed her In a traditional attire In a blue Dangri was preaching an ancient dialect to cure the God In me, her hair divided In two clips crimson lip-paint and round ear-rings.
She promised me that she'll come back to me with strong hype sewed with the sea. But she comes not, may be she Is attained by someone better than me. Well, she Is my Lover the girl of my dream and I'm In love with her the way she whispers In my sleep, she Is my Lover the girl of my dream and I don't know how to ask her to be my forever Love Poetry.
Two roads diversed In a yellow wood the Jigsaw of unparalleled heaven, Oh God which one to choose. One took away the daisies along and other thought to wait for a day, nemesis of pristine words emphasised In raven cliche witchcrafts or wizardry or even cast my soul away alter my petrified eyes buoyant beyond the faraway. Cease a little while, O' Wind! O' The serpentine stream, be thou silent a while let my cry be heard over the topsy-turvy of paths, beyond the naked heaths let my runaway wanderer hear me.
Draped In my grief till the morning for a week and took the right way, for a second I forgot how to walk and could not feel at my heart left; where the pale tamarisk O' God fall like fork over the pale sanguine skin please tell me, where a deceased Lover can go by forgetting all memories. The daffodils laugh half, white tulip mocks me the gulmohors turn their red away when I sing them melancholy.
What he could be but he had chosen to be the Poet to find her In poetry, they laughed In glee at all his Jokes, for many a Joke had he the Love he bore to learn was In fault, In the dark he preached poesy. Such were the sounds over his wounded pride robbed In the sable garb of woe stucked In deep sorrows of lies sighs In awful voice beneath, mark the year and mark the night when the hacksaw ridge dwelled like a forlorned bravery. O' stay wild my moonchild, take the path of your own sorrows, pain, Love again to regain, laugh and Joy let be your confetti. Two roads diversed In a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel Both.
In seek of solemnity and grandeur but far surpasses of finest Cathedral, deprived from the narrative abysmal when decade old wraths had lived In heck of soul's alluvial, a decaying field from ages where the faeries once played and raised, flocks of nymphs and satyr from adjacent forest Lullaby of flute muffed fewest, for a while lost In tune soul felt may be It's prime, trying to heal all the pain.
Alas! gorgeous Lamia of my age appeared once to ease my all bondage, though a little tensed for the strict tales- a human can't fall for a Lamia In average. Sins that halt the past In viscous dusts, enthralling cussed liberty again to combust all fierce disgust, If I could deceive my death warrant to lie then knowing though at the end I must die again. But still hearing her tender taken breath O' My dear Lamia, live forever or else sleep to death. How does It feel to die at the age of 18, early. Is It an adverse bliss or diverse In Little. Our story was written on the Waves of ocean, few formed whirlpool and few meant to Riddle.
yuktibhatiaaaHi, I really liked your way of writing and would love to have u as the co-author of my upcoming anthology 'The Broken wings'. If interested do connect with me at @yuktibhatiaaa on insta. You will charged a minimal amount for it.
To this home of falling flower all your melancholy all your never spoken rage, Oh! If you could tell me all these 4 years back. If you could tell me then I should pray not only on Sunday but each time you slayed. Now when you're already gone and breaking up over this cellphone you gifted, then why all these sudden exclamation, why all these hard questions!
I knew, I should have gifted you a gold chain back I should have gifted you a valley full of stories In deep a room of four brick-walls and a concrete roof on its top, But I failed. I failed willingly, I failed because I had no fear of losing you I failed because, failing owes some materialistic things and I worshiped none of them. I failed because I knew, If one-day all you want to leave Love Will Never Leave Me And for Nowhere.
So one-day out we went through the green garden boughs where the crimson roses shed their scent. Out a gate away we walked sixteen stair steps then over the dewy hays on the mountain, and there was the Krishna shrine by the town-K where the brick-walls were light yellow painted and behind the hills were so milky-red that we were followed In woodwalk wild by an ancient mariner chased us west along.
An ounce of Love before the day got fade, we broke the long silence over a mushroom pizza date; 'Subha, you must not go by tomorrow, Just a day after Is my birthday. After we reach home, you'll go straight to my Mom and will tell her you're staying. You're staying. Okay. You're staying till my birthday.' It was nearly a decade ago when I had lost all my over empowering dialect, all the smart speeches or excuses In that moment of time and that was right then. Birds were singing madrigals through the window on that merry winter and we paused suddenly again, and kissed;
O' beautiful you with honeyed lips with the brows of gold that didn't smile for a while then rippled all over with laughter five minutes after. Those were the days when we were so In love little crying, few arguments but not frightened of any bad consequences. Well, If my heart must break now O' Dear love, for your sake, It will break In millions poetry, poets hearts break too In silence. Let It break.
How the way relics were enshrined under the altars of your Kal-Chakras and How strongly you denied ago calcified cartridge of allies later defied Last disgust of some disguised solemn souls.
There, right there, there stands spool of my raven claws near the grave of our lost eminence there was a ford old churchyard about hundred forty miles yonder but I couldn't even stop for. My tightly woven strings blessed by thousands Gods of bearing reckoned lastly as serenity of some cloacked souls, and the severance of curves from quenched battle of Melancholic harp all drizzled blood-gores on the dry meadow are making me nostalgic as petrichor. O' matey mellow tribe of Adagio I'm still here Standing middle of that abhorred battle shadow pessimistic though finding the reasons of apocalypse half dead and holding all those sharp arrows.
But I'll be alive for centuries dwelling In envies, I will return, I'll return again by defeating all those Sirius serpents I will return, when Love will not only reside in tattoos and Hate will become a social Taboo.
We took the leap and backed them In fragrance of daffodils the Gulmohor made the way, being so unaware we followed It. If that was so unforgiven fate, we sailed over the solar waves to see the God's universal attires and paused. Subha, will you Love me even after my death,I asked. When no existence of mine will sing you only melancholy; Don't cry, Okay! no one will be there to save you from any heartbreak whom will you think by the petrichor time, the cloudburst over and cracking melodies In your eyes, but I don't believe you you soon shall forget. You will soon forget Subha, you'll soon forget. Lets do a theft, you sign the paper here I'll fill the white by red that you'll not forget me till the fifty first rain. That you will dance on your Day by the site of the green mountains over the sprawling path of woods where the haze falls like snowflakes, we've been there till the memories lost their ways we did the toy train ride beyond the Ghoom's way. Will you remember or you'll Just forget. I don't know how to explain, but this separation was so tough, my car lost the road and I plunged Into deep of stream my voice echoed none to help I called your name again and again and rested unto the heaven. You told me at the bus terminal not to ever return again and you laughed why didn't you tell me, you loved me more than. Why didn't you tell me to soon come back. I don't believe you Subha you soon shall Forget (me).
She floated across the desert-sand reached the valley where Gods lay, till the dawn of the day then touched black sea with her hand, She kissed with mouth of flame and paused behind her throne when I called her by the secret name.
My Lover's eyes are the black pearl on the lap of Cyclic sea and her bright hackles are arctic aura artistic burks of a winter's hazel tree, a queen-bee's wings fluttering In glee a Georgie's violin attached to my string; She Is one and she Is all, she Is my prismática of white unicorn, when she walks by the green garden hills by splashing the dead leaves and slashing her anklet, my heart goes crazy and mind nill, for she Is a faltering daffodil midst the lunar eclipse.
My heart Is where she roams & fro, and falls Into my arms like the way a 90's heroine to her protagonist. O' My lunatic lover If you ever return to me, come this time a little confused and In Love like a full moon Evening.