Perspectives on ideas and the wild
Flowing through the pathof a forgotten ballad,I landed at one of the old townsof nostalgia, of dreamy past.Each house, a block of memorystood in ruins, trying to protectexistence of its past, its glory.The pillars trembling,like the trembling importanceof these moments, in my life.Colours fading, roofs falling,a pale departure.And at the twilight of these ruins,At the …
Stranger- a friend , moment away from a hello. an unfamiliar face with a familiar interest. Perhaps both read the same author, dance to same music. But suspicion is a long distance to cover . You wish he would be the first, to come up and say hi ; but the rules of distrust act …
When she was young, she would pause her walk to relish the clumps of Mimosa. The leaves bashfully shrinking to her touch. Never stopped till she closed down every single one of its delicate shy leaves. Never pondered what it must have felt. But today, she feels like a Mimosa herself, touched, harassed, violated. He …
Intriguing it is, to look at a man lost in the depths of his thoughts; detached from the cacophony of physicality. finding his way through alleys of imagination; where getting lost is voluntary. freedom in the truest sense; laissez-faire of the mind. Wonder what he is thinking? the joy of a blooming tulip garden, or …
Sat down on the veranda and saw time pass by. I asked time to stop, Catch a breathe, relax. Time my friend, Why in such a hurry? Where are you heading? Who is waiting? What is your final destination ? You intrigue me with questions unanswered. Time, Sit down with me; Let's talk. Talk …
When I sense peril, I crawl back into my shell, Hide myself. For this they say, I am just a turtle. Slow, weak and vulnerable. Can't walk across the horizon, Can't challenge the world;they say. But my darkness ends at dawn, cause for every seeker there's a win. I will walk towards mine, if not, …
If I can escape this morbidity of mind, I will flee to the mountains of creativity, drench under the shower of zest, till salvation can find. If I can surrender from this race, I will catch my breathe of life, spectate and not partake, end the fear of failure, that I face. If …
Can you tell me, what colour are roses? O dear, it's green. green as grass, he replied. Love, does it have a colour too? It is Of a sort, a blank canvas of emotions, Unless painted with trust, he replied. Rainbow, she desired to see, See through trust of his eyes. But she …
Continue reading "[NaPoWriMo Poetry-2] “What colour is love?”"
When I was born, she was there with me. When she died, I wasn't. When I spoke the first time, she was there with me. When she spoke the last time, I wasn't. When I found the strength to walk, she was there with me. When she lost her strength to walk, I …
A prisoner looks through the narrow window of his prison cell and retrospects his past actions and life. This poem is a shadow of his thoughts. Opened my eyes to a window of thoughts; But failed to look up at the sun above. It is bright and shining; enlightened. I envy it, jealous a …