Flown by the Lord through the things unknown In a ravine abyss of fairy tale, alone by the paths of celestial bodies pulled the string till the heaven or hell. This can't be real, may be a dream, my body was so light and my clothes all damp surely I was drunk In my sleep, by the crossgates of church or the valleys so dead silence of the hearse where strangely fathom disgrage, frost so thick and mist milk-white fumes from the lake was alluring by the side;
A wooden bridge till the middle of lake a mermaid or two was lurking while rehearsing with crafts, hackles so bright and golden In sink silver chirps of rise were gleaming like a beam, may be her tail was legs or her legs were tail and In glee she asked, O' Shepard where are you heading hastily. ' The world knows me by the heraldry of shame but I'm only a life In shackle of seas and rain,' her lips were partly red, a freckle on top sharon of salt was flowing from the head and her breast left brown other zealed In hair and, ' how come the milky way so tattered In zest, stopped by the midway glowing for no interest, the moon is prime here living for the rest, do you know like how they glow during the day.'
I don't, I said. 'Ahh!' But I do know the day must be bright and night darker so that we can yearn for the stars-arise and the moon's shine. Look the moon Is preaching poesy here over the deck shimmering grasses are lunatic bewildered for the Waves to meet a star behind Is twinkling and dazzling by the tunes of pines, oh dear, crickets are so loud and fireflies have joined the fest. Do you know the forest God's wizardry wind! In a blink of an eye he can stop all these In a swing of his wand he can send me back. Lets meet again after a decade's travel when my desert will turn into greens and our heart will be old And....
At your retuning some Immortal stars dazzled over the mountain In eastern sky, waked the sleeping child and craddled her sailed to your homeland. Where the living lush shakes off her trembling grass and the wild rhododendron falls like musky snowflakes, where Is no cruel lord no woven web of bloody heraldry but the little homestays for roving comrades. There praise warm dales for Its tired men with half open book and many winding walk and the rustic lovers there stray at eve In happy simple talk.
O' the lily of Love, pure and white cantitude of your Eyes perfectly lined In black why should I lie even If I die, at the brink of your charismatic eye I fell. The tangle of the forest the silence of the woods and a red moon drifts across your cranium brow and sea washed lips hard to cease, petrify my dauntless Gemini chase, how wiltly you drap green sarees to wave Its crimson edge east. O' the passionate my heart still lies, the melancholia sings me on a moonlight tryst, capricious of thy sea let me sink, for I a hiraeth who loves Thee. (so tell me, where to go for a date Paris Mars Jupiter or over the mountain rafts.)
Loving a Poet I fell in love with a poet His poetry reflected our love A hundred poems all about us I was his light and sweetness But then he broke my heart And inked me as the heartbreaker Loving a poet is a dangerous thing He'll inscribe his love in rhymes and verses But your love will bleed without proof And you'll be left doubting yourself
*The Colour of Love* If our love had a colour, it would be yellow Like the sun that never seemed to set, with you Our world resembled sunflower fields in full bloom Your stolen glances turned my winters into summers We were a bright and sweet yellow, till... Till it seemed to me like yellow caution signs Till it resembled yellow flags signalling disease aboard Till our love turned sour like lemons...
When your scent will no longer cling to me When I no longer reach for you in my sleep When my utterances are free of your slang When the last vestiges of our love slip away As imperceptibly as they had once crept into me That's when I'll know I've moved on
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.