Poetry, Quill

You Deserve A Smile.

Till when will darkness seep away,
Into fibres of the cotton on your wrist,
As the light you loved goes so far away,
That you beg to glimpse through the mist,
Worry not, broken heart, look up and see,
Just see, it’s your turn to smile today,
Even though the pain hasn’t fully died,
Just know, it’s your turn to smile today,
You’re here with me, I see you now,
Feel the warmth of my embrace,
Forget the fires that burned you down,
And watch those little ones smile and sway,
The alleys that whispered those rotten sighs,
Behold, how brightly they shine today,
No matter what you’ve always been to me,
I love you, and you deserve to smile today.

Poetry, Quill

A Vintage Rustic Smell I Love

There used to be a candle on my table

Placed under an old, frail drawerIt carried souvenirs of the yore

And a vintage rustic smell I loved

It was kept the same way, unlit and unsoiled in perpetuum

But one day,I broke the rule,

And with a match the candle bloomed

It illumed the room and dismissed my gloom

I re-lived my dearest treasuries

That night, I re-lived my precious memories

By the next morning the candle had deliquesced

What left of it was its melted wax and its pleasant whiff

My room smelled the same as my candle did

A vintage rustic smell I loved

Which reminded me of memories beloved.

Poetry, Quill

We’ve Met Before…

I do believe we’ve met before…

In the middle of the street, I saw you walk,
We locked eyes for some time, then I drove away,
Your entire journey had brought you here,
To look at me as I held your gaze,
What tears you’ve cried, I’ll never know,
What made me smile, you’ll never see,
As night falls and our minds are flushed,
You cross my mind like a summer breeze,
We’ll never meet, in the lives we have left,
As we sit here thinking, in our lonely balconies,
In silence, we both gaze at the streets beneath,
Perils, of the same old broken heart,
In the same old city, we shall fall asleep,
Yet our worlds exist two lives apart,
Both alive, but never in our memories…

Poetry

Eyes

Through the lights of sky

I saw the colour of his eyes

With hues of grey

Rose the scariest storm of mighty dusk

Speck of moon rising in those eyes

Beholding a warning of ruthless love

And I saw it all

I saw how it was possible

To get so lost in those wicked eyes

Poetry, Quill

A Seed of Love

A seed of love planted deep in the heart
Its roots steadily seizing the entire part.

The first leaf arose with a new beat
Short, soft and sweet.

The first bud arrived with the first titter
Introducing to a being, as sparkly as glitter.

And as the bud bloomed, so did the soul
Begetting a new whole.

I was born this way
I was born of love
And you,
Were too.


Poetry

Disenchanted Disgrace

What vigour remains,
In an ever motive world,
When metal mammoths,
Are reduced to cars,
And swing sets rust,
Under the sun,
When the enchanted eyes,
Of a curious child,
Are reduced to an adult’s,
Tired little gaze,
When birds flying by,
Aren’t magical,
What a useless,
Disenchanted disgrace.

Poetry

A Breath of Fresh Air

Strange. The air smells different today,
Fresh, unruffled and without a trace of dismay.

Brimful, of this zephyr, I inbreathed mirth,
One divine breath, of plenty worth.

Drenched, I am, in this tranquil breeze,
And so immensely packed with elation that I wish time’d freeze.

Poetry

HUSKY

“My son, just 5,

Fell from his bike,

And started to scream,

One less pearly white.

I gathered him up,

In my arms and cooed,

There there, my child,

Tis’ but a small wound.

And it struck me, how soon,

He’d be strong, now 18,

And heartbroken,

He’d want to cry.

But they’ll call him weak,

Won’t let him whine,

Overtime, he’ll learn,

How to fake a smile.

So I tell him now,

What he’ll hear all his life,

As I keep on telling,

My inner child,

There there, its okay,

You’re a husky big strong boy,

And I hurt myself, 

When I say these words,

It’s okay, strong boys do not cry.”

Poetry, Quill

The Perils of Forever

Its promise enchants us

And assuages our sore hearts

For a yearn to seek solace

Asked, to catch hold of this place

We flit, to seize it

And, to its eternalness we submit.

Even after,

Having known its legacy

We often neglect its tendency

To not exist.

And anew the inevitable never

Triumphs over the non existent forever

Poetry, Quill

Destructions That Fix

Part 3

Once in a while, you lose your vision and gain something far more important.

You gain the sight to see the galaxies that cover up your skin, that speak highly of how much you need to care about yourself, of how often you need to see yourself and remind yourself that you are enough.

The scent of the colours that damage your skin doesn’t define you, it guides you.

It guides you through a journey that is worth a billion years of darkness just to realize the importance of light.

The journey ends when you find your scent, when you don’t need to see galaxies in your body to know you are extraordinary.

It ends when you know you are extraordinary.

And just like that, you kiss your wounds and thank your crazed up mind for creating something so harmful that it cures because damage sure does bring happiness, doesn’t it?