Grid View
List View
Reposts
  • greypages_ 12w

    Snoring.

    Do I have a
    Claim over asking
    Questions?
    If yes, then I’ll ask,
    All in whys,
    Maybe write a song
    Out of it,
    Or a poem,
    Because I won’t
    Get answers,
    From indifference snoring
    In the next room,
    But I do require
    A song or a poem,
    Badly, out of fear,
    To keep me from
    Sinking, every
    Night.

    ©greypages_

  • greypages_ 19w

    The Tool Box.

    The layers experience
    A sensual feel of potions :
    The Tongue savouring the
    Laces of cream on my
    Man’s lips -
    A word is brewed along
    With every kiss exchanged,
    Poured in a thread to
    String endearments of love,
    Each of it drowns me
    Deeper into him,
    Into the realms of my poetries,
    As one is added to the pile,
    As the night ends.

    The guards relish bribery,
    One slip of cash slid past their doors,
    And the Sword is mine -
    A farmer slaughtered,
    A noblemen robbed,
    A peasant drawn and quartered -
    Innocence mocked and burnt
    As it fuels my heart to spill chaos,
    With every act, a word is brewed,
    And culminate the poetry
    By the last bribe,
    To the rape the Queen,
    The King’s love,
    Under the cruelty
    Of the night.

    As the December hits,
    I put on my scarf,
    Laced with ivory
    and maroon lines -
    Loneliness creeping in,
    Snowing on the windowpane
    As I sit by it,
    A Candle aiding light
    To make its way in the darkness,
    With every drop of wax
    That melts, a word is brewed,
    I shiver, smile and then sleep,
    As the last drop of wax
    Hits the cold floor
    And another poetry is completed,
    Under the touch of winter.

    A poetess knows her
    Way out, always -

    When she brandishes
    Her tools,
    Words bow to her,
    Disciplined,
    And tailor themselves
    Into a beautiful poem.

    ©greypages_

    .

    #pod @mirakee #writersnetwork #honestgranny @writersnetwork

    Picture credits to the respective owner.

    P.S. : From the drafts.

    Read More

    .

  • greypages_ 24w

    Which ones
    Are more merciless :
    The nights and the
    Showers when
    I bleed,
    Reeking of restlessness,
    Or the whole
    Other bunch
    Of them
    That sprays the
    Reek of the former,
    Remorselessly in my blanket? -
    How many soldiers
    Can I defeat all alone? -
    The thoughts rape
    Me during the nights,
    And I don’t take
    Showers anymore,
    Standing by the edge,
    Grabbing everything
    I can, not to fall.

    ©greypages_

    .

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod #writersnetwork

    Read More

    Nights.

  • greypages_ 25w

    A man knows
    How to prick his
    Lady’s temper -
    In the places which
    Are her domain -
    One question
    With a tone of urgency :
    “The tea is not
    Ready yet?”
    And he’ll watch
    Her proceed in
    The most predicted manner,
    As he gets the tea
    And the pleasure
    All on his tongue
    In the next two minutes -
    I see her everyday
    And feel a twitch
    In my throat -
    But in the corner,
    I do gulp down
    A few doses of pleasure
    From his vial, too -
    I’m an element
    External to their bubble,
    Perhaps a kin,
    the salt, the glass or her bra -
    It makes me question
    Everyday about the back door
    Attached to the kitchen
    And why she moves
    Towards it every day
    But never flees? -
    I gulp another dose
    Of pleasure every time
    She decides to stay.

    .

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod #writersnetwork

    Read More

    The Kitchen.

    I gulp another dose
    Of pleasure every time
    She decides to stay.

    ©greypages_

  • greypages_ 30w

    The Scarlet Philtre.

    Behind the drapes,
    You tap your finger on the window,
    The glass breaks :
    Tiny shreds of obscene appetites,
    An impulse twines around
    Your intestine akin a thirsty creeper
    Just as the night bends on the
    Carnival of Famine -
    You elect the severity of the doses
    To who you want to leave
    Hungry, hungrier and the hungriest,
    Barren, naked on the concrete,
    It is in your bosom that holds
    The remedy, the Philtre -
    The trance locks your lovers
    In a cabin that burns, screams and shrieks
    Of utter and absolute hunger,
    Meanwhile,
    The bait is left on a run on the cold street,
    Forbidden, bruised and breathless,
    The veil smirk on your lips as you behold it
    Calls for the rains to paint it red,
    Death odoured the air as you plunge
    The dagger into the chest,
    The clouds roar in accents of Red -
    You lay bare your bosom to
    Consume the reverence, the power,
    And brim it with the Philtre
    And throw the vials of the same to
    The lovers’ cursing bellies,
    The meanest left the hungriest,
    As you throw the last vial into the cabin
    And walk away towards the throne.

    ©breathejanvi

    .

    @writersnetwork @mirakee #pod #writersnetwork

    @lines_of_coke @pa_luck @solitarychild

    Read More

    The Scarlet Philtre.

  • greypages_ 33w

    What burns away the fire?
    It isn’t your tongue, always,
    Who you claim guilty of dousing it off -
    There are windows left unclosed
    On a stormy night,
    And fans spinning without a switch
    To turn it off,
    And flags flapping; hoisted in flower pots
    Put everywhere in the room,
    Where did you dump the flowers away?
    Are you intending to conserve water? -
    There are bells inside your head
    That ring and beckon the flowers
    With the sweetest of the psalms,
    Why do you still venerate the flags, then? -
    It is their sons and daughters,
    Drawing the water you
    Conserved and splashing it on each other,
    It is their wives
    Who hanged their pictures on the switch board,
    It is their tongues,
    Who relish the taste of the wind at midnights -
    It is the wind and not your tongue
    That burns away the fire -
    And you still open doors to them ;
    Why?
    Perhaps you’ve a roof to protect,
    As the wind will blow you away
    Once you decide to leave the house,
    As you look outside your window everyday,
    You behold severed tongues and nothing else -
    And you slumber off by the pane
    Leaving the window unclosed.

    ©greypages_

    .

    #pod

    Read More

    Curiosity.

  • greypages_ 34w

    Margins.

    I fell off the bed
    Right when the dawn
    Hits the sky,
    All the while,
    All through the night
    Sleeping peacefully
    On pillows
    That complain less, and embrace more -
    The gun runs out of
    Bullets just when it has
    The King to left to liquidate
    All the while,
    All through the infiltration
    Holing hearts of soldiers in vengeance,
    A Kingdom
    That chained your queen
    And killed your father -
    The red dress doesn’t fit
    You just by a few inches,
    The weighing scale mars your mood
    When your lover scraps
    Off the red fabric and whispers to you,
    “Skin suits you the best”
    And you realise,
    That you didn’t hit the floor
    But fell in his hands at dawn,
    That your queen had already poisoned the King,
    That skin suits you the best,
    That something better awaits for you,
    And that he loves you the most.

    ©greypages_

    .

    .

    @writersnetwork #pod #writersnetwork @mirakee

    Read More

    Margins.

    That skin suits you the best,
    That something better awaits for you,
    And that he loves you the most.

    ©greypages_

  • greypages_ 34w

    Will you bother to care
    For the game -
    In which
    You chase
    Your lover
    Till she is being caught -
    To control
    The fate of you
    And your lover,
    To exist within
    It and let it
    Never end,
    Having her
    In front of your
    Eyes, forever
    Smiling, breathing ;
    Or just catch
    Hold of her,
    In your arms,
    On your lips
    And die along
    With the game, forever?

    ©greypages_

    .

    @writersnetwork #writersnetwork #pod

    .

    Picture credits to the respective owner.

    Read More

    .

  • greypages_ 36w

    Biased blessings.

    A man
    Is pleased
    By the adorations
    Tied on poems
    By the mirror
    Every single morning
    Under the Sun of blushes -

    The shadow
    Sleeping behind him
    Tries to lift
    Itself to look
    In the mirror,
    Incessantly struggles
    And fails,
    Embedded under
    The man’s name
    And brick -

    It did succeed
    To look into the mirror
    One night
    When he was asleep,
    Yearning for poems
    And tongues to
    Recite hymns
    Of praise,
    But under the skies
    Of Dark
    The Moon
    Slipping under
    The mountains
    With the Sun to make love
    And in the morning
    He is up again
    To brim with blushes -
    How can one at all
    Blame the mirror
    In this Sea of
    Biasness?

    ©greypages_

    .

    Picture credits to the respective owners.

    .

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod #writersnetwork @allbymyself

    Read More

    .

  • greypages_ 36w

    Sore.

    If I switch beds every night,
    Will I not revert to the
    Same fire? -
    The one that burns my eyes
    And the one I’m not proud
    Of owning -
    It is drizzling midst the fire
    And I’m out of pillow covers;
    Can I stitch them out of curtains?
    Does the fabric is all that matters? -
    I wish for the day it wouldn’t rain
    The Sun will gulp me up,
    How strong and fierce is the Sun
    Under the reign of ruthless downpour?
    It all feels like an unheard tune
    With just a known notion that I play it
    Every time I go for a bath,
    What’s so monotonous about habits?
    And, how many times am I bathing? -
    It feels all wrong, all forced, all caught up -
    It’s the overlaps of blues
    And I need new pillow covers
    With Suns packed inside -
    I needn’t switch beds, maybe, rather,
    Just shift mine in the bathroom,
    But the bed is just too heavy to lift,
    And my eyes, too sore.

    ©greypages_

    .

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod #writersnetwork

    .

    Picture credits to the respective owners.

    .

    @pen_and_paper @lines_of_coke @hayat_

    Read More

    .