Where the stars are visible To embellish the nights With the beautiful shine, Where the trees are standing Firmly in a queue to provide Shelters to the birds, Where the rivers are flowing To let the fields flaunt Wonderful greenery, Where the flowers are spreading Fragrance all around along With the blowing wind, Where the day begins with The very first ray of the sun Spreading hope filled shine, Where still peace resides In every heart working Hard to live life happily.
A pastoral poem that paints itself into me every day as I walk beside the still, 'sky waters'. #pastoralpoem@writersnetwork@miraquill Thankyou so much @/writersnetwork for the like.❤❤ Thankyou @/miraquill for EC(21)❤❤
( usually we write with progression of each para but in this one we tried to make every para unpredictable one after the other. This I call mimic write-up. As in mimicry where you fool with your voice making it unpredictable. Hope you like it.
Collab with one of my most favs on Miraquill @rimi_ojha She is an amazing writer and a constant supporter. Thank you!)
Cloudless sky, Reminiscent zephyr, Whispers of yellow spring flowers (daffodils) And ethereal quintessence of veridiscent dragged me from the town I left my body behind to perish in the chaos and flew there where a melange of summer and autumn gave birth to real spring Amid my deep breaths my soul sighed with the scent of lavenders and harlequin candy tufts And I dwelled the whole season there over the thirst of a poet and beneath sanguine hues of spring.
/(Bard)iche virtuoso/ I was a poet: trahison des clercs
I never counted stars as they burn the house of dusk manipulating the daydreams to fell in love with ephialtes I'm a drunkard cursing the flashbacks and photographs of augur. I'm depicting the future with threads of past time I'm a bardic barque whose debris are being stepped by mariners as flotsam unable to fathom; a prolix to rejig the spaces and bardiches into poems which are hard to gulp and not-that-easy to cognize the roads I build with black and white images They left They left one by one two to four and in thirty days where I tasted the three sixty fifth rotten flesh of forevers
Nobody stayed the home to my soul the love of my life the salted-buttery elflocks of my grandma the last wish I made while celebrating my 11th birthday the guy who keeked through the orifice of fornication the bullets of prophecies the matinee to masquerade happiness
howbeit, I was a poet
who is a poet ?
one day my heart asked I was discombobulated I read books, watched movies I kept being inquisitive But steadily instead of getting an answer
I started a war betwixt my heart and mind,
A virtuoso bard , bardiche and bandit named life snuff the cigars of chivalry and puff out the intumescent verses of ruination
I'm partaking in sighs, cries, thwacks, flames, relics and coal-camphor of the pits of villainy
_ I'm not guilty of the trahison des clercs I caged, by trading my poetic pale-flower. I'm a cobblestone of perfidy.
When the rays of the sun Peep through the window To rise you up along with it, When the group of the birds Sing melodiously in the Very fresh morning, When the trees dance On the rhythm of the Blowing wind, When the footsteps of the People going towards the field Inspires you too for the hard work, When the surrounding of the village Fills every moment of your life with peace And take you far away from the chaos that is also a blessing.