harshad09

harshadspeaks.wordpress.com/

self promoters/advertisers ♥️ block ♥️

Grid View
List View
Reposts
  • harshad09 1w

    ©harshad09

  • harshad09 7w

    The shape, of indifference

    .


    Beyond the trajectories
    of adjectives and adverbs,
    far from periphery
    of mindfulness and it's evacuated suburbs,
    in the lurky murky shades
    of candescent innocence
    Love, it keeps weaving threads
    of some hazy innocent candescence
    sometimes,
    it's powered by submissive affection,
    at times, hardly though,
    it's triggered by affectionate submission,
    and I get caught in these webs, unknowingly,
    the Illusions, of, I'm whole, I'm me,
    they start engulfing me and my tranquil,
    and I begin feeling, I can't delete
    the cold comfort, of conflicted emotions,
    and I start to wipe,
    those kisses on the shoulder,
    with torn rags of unwritten or discarded drafts



    The shape of indifference,
    it begins to blow, balloons,
    in the shape of a mirage,
    and thus in a night under the moon,
    even roses, that have turned to ashes,
    begin to appear like bouquet of promises,
    those stuffed with soulful desires,
    and baked with sunshine,
    garnished with a scoop of poetry,



    It's not a matter of time or discussion,
    neither it has to express, for you,
    the gravity of my obsession,
    I didn't train my words,
    to whisper sweet nothings,
    just for the sake of alluring you,
    or to flaunt, how much I adore,
    for, if I had loved you less,
    I might be able to talk about it, more,
    but, this is just to convey, again,
    how much I need you,
    in each moment of joy, every second of pain,
    in life's each memorable inclusion,
    either the sweetest or utterly sour ..


    ©harshad09

  • harshad09 8w

    Redefining the muse

    .

    Scrawling in the deserts arid,
    of lightlessness,
    stricken by the pains placid,
    and the uneasiness,
    as I strive hard, to find some words,
    some metaphors, to use,
    I am always mislead by the Illusions, purple, of muse

    .

    The night sky, the moon and the stars,
    as I try to tuck them all, in stanzas amusing,
    a rubified heart, some bleed and all the scars,
    they'd steal the show, with gazes of musings

    .

    As I try weaving,
    flowers, petrichor or the purple mist,
    pains forgotten rise, head up, top of the list,
    it's not that I'm like happy, to scribble pain,
    but the melancholy, keeps hijacking the pen

    .

    Despairs begin caressing me, from all around,
    lightlessness eclipsing thoughts and sound,
    to retaliate, I try to find solace, some euphoria,
    but the ripples of writing, they seem like utopia

    .

    Defunct and lost,
    I just sit watching a spider, weaving its web,
    and the award, it's nothing but arachnophobia
    Like some frozen frost,
    words echo just emptiness, nothing's to ebb,
    as I search for rescue, what I gather, it's just claustrophobia ...
    ©harshad09

  • harshad09 11w

    Title : Re-finding The Muse

    .

    Scrawling in the deserts arid,
    of lightlessness,
    stricken by the pains placid,
    and the uneasiness,
    as I strive hard, to find some words,
    some metaphors, to use,
    I am always mislead by the Illusions of muse

    .

    The night sky, the moon and the stars,
    as I try to tuck them all, in stanzas amusing,
    a rubified heart, some bleed and all the scars,
    they'd steal the show, with gazes of musings

    .

    As I try weaving, flowers, petrichor or mist,
    pains forgotten rise, head up, top of the list,
    it's not that I'm like happy, to scribble pain,
    but the melancholy, keeps hijacking the pen

    .

    Despairs begin caressing me, from all around,
    lightlessness eclipsing thoughts and sound,
    to retaliate, I try to find solace, some euphoria,
    but the ripples of writing, they seem like utopia

    .

    Defunct and lost,
    I just sit watching a spider, weaving its web,
    and the award, it's nothing but arachnophobia
    Like some frozen frost,
    words echo just emptiness, nothing's to ebb,
    as I search for rescue, what I gather, it's just claustrophobia ...



    @writersnetwork @mirakee @mirakeeworld @writers_paradise @writersbay #picturec

    Read More

    A/musing

    The night sky, the moon and the stars,
    as I try to tuck them all, in stanzas amusing,
    a rubified heart, some bleed and all the scars,
    they'd steal the show, with gazes of musings
    ©harshad09

  • harshad09 14w

    Not all nights are same,
    you may agree or disagree,
    but for me atleast,
    not all of them are same

    for, some come, for me,
    with a gift-wrapped insomnia
    some others, they keep pumping
    adrenaline, with illusions of barorexia,
    some though, they keep me indulged
    in dilemmas malicious,
    asking me to choose from agility or inertia

    but, this one, the one that I'm speaking of,
    it seems unique, it's first one of its kind
    for, the night Queen, she's up already,
    spreading her armour, of rays,
    possibly, for me to find

    what she's intending,
    I do not know,
    but I am feeling like, at me,
    she's tossing, the balls of snow,
    and though apparently, this snow,
    seems like singing carols, with the stars,
    but I'm already feeling, the ice, spreading,
    to my bones, to drip, with lucidity through my scars

    and the moon, she's deliberate, in her actions,
    aesthetically, kissing the star, atop the Christmas tree
    at the same time, she's deceiving me,
    with vibes illusive, of the chronicles of paradise,
    she's like pushing me, to the streets, of pain,
    alongside the burgundy blades of grass, does she too know, I've no more ground, to flee

    is she trying to take me, back to simpler days,
    weaving the pebbles, of past, bygone, in an apparantly charming rhapsody ?
    or does she want to listen, from my mouth, the question eternal, are we nothing more, than a recycled tragedy ?

    I'd never know, if I am really living this,
    or this is just another scary dream
    for, I am feeling it now,
    for when I tried to touch her, she scattered herself,
    into thousand glorious rays, and started flowing,
    floating over the camouflaged streams

    is she going to shatter me,
    in umpteen pieces,
    or is she aiming for my strengths,
    to turn them into ashes
    or is she going for the rainbow on my palette,
    and dreams in my eyes
    or is she convinced, about my being culprit,
    for each deed, each of my told untold lies,

    but, this, this doesn't seem
    to be end of it all,
    the climax is yet to come,
    how it can be the curtain call
    as I start, preparing myself,
    for to be hanged, or to be cut, by nake
    just then,the climax, it launches itself,
    the moony queen, she's smiling
    as if she wished upon a sparkling snowflake,

    ohh my, this again us a twist,
    one that was never on the list,
    now with her rays, she's pampering me long,
    and I'm like confused, is this done dream,
    or I have been forgiven, for each of my wrong

    I really don't know
    I'm like in two minds
    either to run away, out of this dreamy realm,
    or just to lie there sluggishly,
    waiting to hear, the beeps, of morning alarm

    I really, do not know ....
    ©harshad09

    Read More

    Me and the night queen

    ©harshad09

  • harshad09 15w

    To
    The people who look at the stars and wish,

    It has been always amazing me, the unending passion, the inclination, you guys have, towards Life, in its every format, in its each frame, despite difficulties and adversities, how you hold on, the way you sustain and the way you resist, it always has mesmerized me

    Nowadays, we all know, the falling of a star, and some force in this cosmos, making it shine like a flash, in front of us and what we see is its journey, a phenomenon of light and beauty, but tying this phenomenon with some life aspirations, counting it as some omen and using it as an opportunity, to wish for something, you always keep aspiring for, it's too adorable, I think

    And may this be a belief for you, for some this might even something like a blind belief too, but at least I won't count this your emotional action as blind, rather for me , the belief you have in your believing power, it's much more an inspiration catalyst than its intellectual analysis

    For, we all are going through turbulence, emotional, social, political, economic and of all sorts, we are passing through an unknown unimaginable situation and in this blind walk, it's absolutely fine, if you keep searching for some ray of hope, of light, of inspiration. Now what you choose, as your light source, it's perfectly upto you, but why I think it's great to wish something, seeing a falling star, is my reading that thinks of you, as like you're much more assimilated with this habitat of ours, rather than going for logic or ethos behind it, and moreover, those who aren't engulfed by chaos, they're the most vocal lawyers of ethos, howbeit

    So, even if today we know the science behind the visuals of a shooting star, I won't call it as one of the rituals, bad, but certainly I would like to request you all, you keep wishing as always, just for a change maybe, engrave the image of the shooting star and your wish, in your heart, this combo would keep you inspiring always to fulfilment of every wish, you had wished for, seeing every falling star

    As you all and I too know, this universe has myriad stars and our minds have infinite dreams, not all stars falling one can see and not all dreams fulfilling, one can have, but let's try and strive, to work towards the fulfilment, of most of them, until we are permitted to see the stars, that much is what we can, and if we do

    And now, if you have read this upto here, let me ask you a favor, the next time you see a falling star and you make a wish, try to remember this and devote yourselves, to an all-out effort, to complete your wish or dream

    Nothing much to say beyond this, let me wish you all, your each and every dream, it may come true , soon ....




    .



    __________________________________

    @mirakee @writersnetwork

    Read More

    ©harshad09

  • harshad09 17w

    Snowflakes of memories

    .



    I wait for December winters eagerly
    for, I am crazy about having them in memories
    like snowflakes and by now, it's my habit
    to store these Snowflakes of memories
    in the empty bottles of perfume
    filled with mistletoes

    I do this regularly
    so that I can use them
    whenever my bones are on fire
    and I need some cold, calm
    so that I can have them handy
    whenever, the princess, of time
    starts her catwalk, down candy lane cane
    as some nostrum quack
    so that I can use them as panacea
    every time, when the notorious philophobia
    it threatens to destroy the Sandcastles in the sand

    I ain't some teen dreamy
    to believe, Love, it resides in glazed candies of eyes
    and in Love, everything else seems wrapped up
    and duvets of Love seem warmer than moonlit skies
    neither do I think, of Love as some utopian riddle
    rather, Love it makes the whistling winds sound
    like symphonies being played on clarinet and fiddles

    For , everytime, when Love happens to You
    it's like the hazy dusk, that makes you breathe deep
    and makes you meet some mirage
    of some successive flashing lights
    that keep germinating, hidden seeds of plights
    that'd bloom into sonnets, of promises to keep

    For, Love, is when below the darkest of Light
    you still can find, some piece of space
    that carries the maxima of depth, in height
    to turn, capably, you and your senses upright
    For, Love, it's that magical charm
    that changes you
    right from scratch, just upto the spright ...

    ~~~~



    ©harshad09

  • harshad09 21w

    ~~~~~~~~~~

    Written in a syllabic pattern
    8/6/4/2/10/2/4/6/8/10

    Somewhere on the internet , this form with 60 syllables in all , it's referred to as carpe diem form , but I couldn't find the authentication for the same , still the grace of the form compelled me to write one

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~



    @writersnetwork @writersbay #catharsisc

    Read More


    .
    .
    .

    Let Light divine triumph again
    defeating evils stark
    killing each dark
    Let's hope
    Joyousness to be the eternal gain
    for each
    one amongst us
    Let's spread smiles ,weaving thread
    without bargain , instead of tread
    A catharsis , for , we won't live again



    .
    ©harshad09

  • harshad09 22w

    This is my take
    on the piece

    " I feel a funeral in my brain "
    By Emily Dickinson


    ~~~~~`~~~~~~~~~`

    To breathe , to live
    or
    to live , to breathe
    or
    to just let it go
    ohh
    those dilemmas
    would the Hamlet steal the show

    If , I choose
    to breathe , to live
    then this audacious world
    with all it's glossaries
    it's something more
    than an heaven , pristine

    And if , I choose
    to live , to breathe
    then this ferocious world
    with all it's cracked vocabularies
    it's nothing more
    than defunct breathing accessories
    denying power to lungs , frankenstein

    Here enters , in the frame
    the much esteemed nobility
    placing asterisks
    on my living , or rather , breathing ability
    questioning the very quintessence
    of my part and parcel , of each of my grain
    propelling me , towards , the edges of migraine
    and I start feeling , a funeral, in my brain

    Now , I can see
    the corpses poisoned , of intuitions
    placed neatly in the caskets of cherry wood coffins
    some nostalgic remembrance interpretations
    some freshly printed glossy obituaries
    and those wreaths , offered by the dignitaries
    I need to check ,
    if , death of poesies , is it currently trending
    in all those vocabularies and dictionaries
    6
    For , I can sense , airs , gloomy and weepy
    some mournings , half cozy , half breezy
    some mourners , desperately trying to feel easy
    some trying to behave , flaunting being lazy
    my imaginations , they're now in doldrums
    poor they , they've worked so hard
    like some bees , busy

    And I can see , the ritual going on , last
    some offerings in the form of farewell songs
    forgiveness for all deeds , bad or wrongs
    Now , the migraine , in my head , it's beginning to beat the gongs
    But I have to find a way , out of the horde ,
    piercing through the throngs
    and hanker my intuitions
    once again , to be getting strong
    breaking all those coffins
    and again venturing
    striding along

    For , I know ,
    whenever my scars , they begin bleeding
    oozing out all the pain
    that every time
    I feel a funeral , in my brain

    Read More

    .
    ©harshad09

  • harshad09 23w

    ✨✨✨ Hello November✨✨✨

    A sonnet to start November with

    @writersbay Thank You for this wonderful Prompt #picturec


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    a tangy mix of the cold and bright , neat
    bridging fall and winter , in every gains
    after the tortures of October heat
    welcome November with your shine and rains


    delightful breezes and charm on the rise
    mix and match of sunshine rain and the colds
    days getting shorter ,and the nights large size
    Scintillating beauties November holds

    Cheerfulness and love and happinesses ,
    Dark blue , red , some moony moony yellow
    tulips , chrysanthemum and red roses
    This is month pristine , brings in shades mellow

    A chance , to throw away , burdens of fear
    November steps to welcome the new year

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    @mirakee @writersnetwork

    Happy November guys ��

    Read More

    ©harshad09