* Hamartia : A fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero
Don't remember me during your burgeon days, Nor in your triumphant epochals, Drink and dance with high delight to your fill, And never leave your tumbler empty in moonlight.
When there will be no autumn moons & spring flowers, I will come with numerous memorable hours, If not I shall beseech zephyrs of Tisha, To ride back home and give you courage and hope.
Hamartia must be the time when I derelicted, Your silent cries and quite painful screams, If you ask me how much my dolent increase, Just see the over brimming river in the east.
Though drunk with my tears I will lit up the effulgent lamp, Of sophrosyne in the caligo guiding your way back, Though buried with my scars I will always, Will always draw the caim around you.
Hamartia made me a tragic hero in this tale of yours, Neither can stay afar nor can breathe the wind of yours, I write this tristful letter with a great valour from my heart, A letter kept within my books, I wish you could have a read.
Peaches are in the full bloom, Light scents travelling with the dying leaves, Crossing towers and pavilions at corners, Ambiling along those memories painted corridors.
You just extend your hand, To feel those rosy petals of ambrosial past falling, Sending the epochals of us wrapped under a veil, To remind you those dates also tying I a martingale.
Tasting like the sunburnt honey on the mug of butterbeer, Every smile and laugh we inked after each fight we lived, Read this on those years when we are not together, Taking a pause to remember me from that crowd gather.
Susurrus Saunter ******************** Under the velarium of dulcet buzz, My living cadaver elude from a leafy billet, Filtered rays sings the melody of whizz, Resuming my junket somewhere in the caespes.
Feet globetrotting through the kreek of yellow, Mouth mumbling along the mellifluous Robin's chirp, Siir of the eastern winds builds a nesh mellow, Whistles the wild water rappling on the carg.
Near to the stream is a field of barley scattering, Where the tied trombone white pony neighs while, Some little hands clapping and tiny tongues chattering, Wrabling magpies and chirring whitethroats in a tree beside.
Pattered my feet on the bosom of palpitating air, Town in where crowd justling at pitching and hustling, Flags flutter, dogs bark, fowls coo and piglets oink, Women whispering and giggling at the men quarreling.
Hisses the vessel on fire at the lady's mansion, Vendors scream and the church bells ding, The piped piper jingles and jangles for glittery coins, Which all together makes euphony noises gratifying my fill.
Sauntering along the melodious susurrus with flavour of trifle, My superfluous mind now commands to resume our travel. @ishiita
________________________________ Tried writing an onomatopoeia list poem. Wanted to stand out but could only produce this. Hope this justifies the challenge.
Deep thoughts sinking in minds Penetrates from the sounds hears from ears Mesmerizing memories dumped in the minds Digging out the extractions from childhood nostalgia Long going rays of eyes exhaustively the world artefacts Sometimes High on sky eractically lower to the ground Off and on navigate the limits of the sky The minds are roaring with contemplations But when ask the constant answer is "everything is alright" The eyes here speaks louder Louder than words and expressions The eyes could manifest the contemplations of mind It lug the dead And buried nostalgia It draws out the wonderful colours of perpetual memories. The eyes exhibit everything which is concealed in the boxes of mind So when the question "how are you?" is arose Fall for the answers reflecting from eyes rather than words.
I am the golden dew on the eyelashes of an angel or maybe a warrior, what is the difference, anyway? Dancing in the cold like a ray of sunshine in the fog of January, scattering warmth and hope.
I am the scar etched deep in the heart of a little girl, with freckles like scattered stars on a moonless night and the burning sun consuming her eyes; mending wounds instead of breaking dolls, she peaked a little too early and faded away into poetry.
I am the smile, beguiling and broken, on the lips of a sailor who has seen way many storms than meant for a wanderer; ruthless and fierce, he has felt the wrath of the sea; on nights he longed for home, he sailed even further and turned into a figher; he still longs for home, but he is lost way too deep to remember what it feels like anymore.
The emerald memories of this setting year whispers a story from the corner of my crimson heart where I write an ode to my self as each longing breathe hopes for a new dawn. Sometimes the edges of my lips wrap into some redolent smiles to make me fall for a place, which once I called as home. And sometimes hope wish to stay on my palm lines to make me erase a feeling, which used to be known as heartbreak. Sometimes love brings peace and harmony within all the concrete hearts, in order to make me have a glimpse at beauty that reside in each soul, and sometimes those melancholic eyes illuminate even in dusk where the stains of kindness reside within me, you and all of us. /Kindness entwined us together/
In the vintage of August, those pastel colours of rainbow melted into the paintings of existence of each creature, where some blue tiny drops were love whisperer and my aesthetics were it's humble listener. Forever used to resonate in each ray of sunshine, promises bloomed with generosity yet withered with elapsing time. Broken comprehended to mend, scars learnt the magic to heal, sunsets were some beautiful endings that my penumbra always wanted to feel.
I walked and walked and look I reached on this last day of twenty twenty, and I still remember forever promised to walk with me towards eternity. Yes the last digits of this year are going to change, But this life isn't going to end. ____________________________________________
Pic Credit: Shreyas Hedau
Happy New Year in advance everyone ❤️ may the upcoming year brings all the gaiety and joy in your life.
" What is beauty, anyway ? " " Terror stirred in silence." / " And what makes it desirable, then ? " " The winter snow and sub-zero love. " / " Why does that hurt ? " " Its poetry. " / " Does all poetry hurt ? " " All poets do. " / " And how do you spot one ? " " Become one. " / " And how do ~you~ know ? " " Koi no yokan and chamomile. " / " Huh ? " " Memories. " / " Memories of what ? " " A forever. " / " Are you drunk ? " " Art is intoxicating. " / " Is this normal ? " " Normalcy is an untwisted concrete street. Its easy to walk on, but when you stop to catch your breath, you shall find only cobblestones. No flowers will await your weariness. " / " And if i become the flower that makes concrete crack under its sleepy petals to have you pluck me ? Will you walk down Normalcy Lane ? " " You don't pluck the stars that light up your skies. " / " And if I wilt and I cry and I cry and I wilt but I bloom everyday until your arms are my deathbed ? " " Then you shall bloom evermore. " / " You won't come ? " " If that's the price of letting sunshine kiss you everyday. " / " But I thought you said my sun wouldn't come ? " " Giselle. " / " Will you make me a promise ? " / " No. " " Giselle. " / " Promises are fickle. The moon doesn't promise to light up the sky when the sun is gone but don't we know it will ?" " Giselle. " / " Its 6:36, Rei. " " And ? " / " We've switched places. " " Just like the sun and moon. " / " Is that what we are ? / " And papercuts and dragons. " " But where ? " / " In tokens and charms. " " Do you want me to stay ? " / " Like a scar. " " Why, Giselle ? " / " My scars are mine, and unlike people, they stay and forever so. They remind me that I am capable of healing myself. " " We're one more thing. " / " Death. " " What is death, anyway ? " / " Cerulean blood and crimson waters." " And perfection stargazing at bleak stories like ours. " / " Giselle, I have something to tell you. " / " I know. Aren't we both just subliminal poets afterall ?"