The loneliness eats me in turns
during the vividness of dawn,
And the midnight blackness
comforts me in its warm blanket of soft bruises.
You my heart-
I tell you
is a wild wild thing,
of blue rains and tornadoes,
butterflies and hurricanes,
& I am a sweet, soft caterpillar
growing her wings.
Beneath the coral walls of my mind-
I tell you
is a stubborn worm,
the ache doesn't stop hurting.
The scars are scriptures engraved on the top of my thoughts.
The soil under my feet is a savior,
It cradles me on sunny mornings
and mundane evenings.
I walk on the periphery
and keep walking till eternity.
And start losing and breaking and finding myself in moments and hours.
All day & night.
is a garland of colorful rainbows and broken stars.
And my body-
a home of burning embers and a soul that glows, glows and glows...
My heart is cut in pieces;
myriad shreds of leaves scattered in my wilted garden,
a thousand shades of my love flow like a frigid waterfall,
my lover being a serrated edge of knife.
My bones are cracked now,
the curve of my lips frozen.
Of love, of lust
they must speak.
My past lovers resemble my doleful shadows-
they do not stay, they do not leave.
I am a crescent moon, an isolated cloud,
a half rainbow mourning to meet its colors.
The colors diffuse to bloom florets to the
garden of my barren heart.
I dance wildly on the tunes,
like a passionate beloved,
carrying in my arms;
a silent wail of pain and detachment,
a cry of separation.
My heart being a classic sad song.
I let my lover explode inside me like a wildfire, a rage.
a love story abandoned a decade ago.
Hi everyone, I welcome you all to the 23rd edition of The Saturday Symphony…The Saturday Symphony #23 (Addict)
Just above the skyline
and beyond the horizon,
there rests a wish I make during the twilight hours.
Mosaic wish with feathers and moonstone and phantom pain,
I blow regularly with my fuchsia lips.
Tiny sparkles in air
praying hymns of God
and singing elusive wishes.
I carry the weight of my countable desires
like the luminous colors of rainbow.
Sprinkling in the lap of universe,
waiting to be heard itself by mother Earth.
What is a hope that isn’t felt by your heart
What is a dream that doesn’t rejuvenate your senses
What is a true wish that isn’t manifested by God itself?
I safekeep your effervescent laughs in my heart
the laughs that scatter rain in deserts,
and bring mirth in blank space.
You resemble a dateless blooming flower-
Calla lilies, the petals diffuse in the blood of your heart.
There is a sheet of optimism in your glazing eyes,
and I breathe on these hopes residing in the reflection of your eyes.
I live in it. I dream of it.
You hold my hands,
and I feel a silk touch so gentle and affectionate.
Your touch epitomizes summer lakes,
and winter snowfalls. And I am dwelling on these mellow touches.
It was Café de Corsica we met for the first time
You were engrossed in reading your classic and swallowing your favorite parts and characters.
Coincidentally we wore the same colored crop tops, the color of peaches.
And we smiled looking at each other,
Serendipity they say.
You were a recurring dream to me then,
turned to be a reality now.
And I am enthralled with the felicity.
You and I,
different shades of same color,
galactic stars of a constellation,
and a couple of clouds floating in togetherness.
Some nights I listen to songs
and cry rivers.
Moon glowing white.
Glazing silver garden of beautiful scars,
sleeping birds and buzzing insects,
and the infinite silence.
The infinite silence within my mind keeps still.
As the day and night collide
it’s the iridescent dawn out there
the Sun shows up its glinting rays.
And the skyline smiles
sharply and shyly.
The music still plays with its magnificence.
Some nights I listen to songs
and cry rivers till morning.
There is a certain apricity in the way you speak
of labelled trophies and dark fields,
the battles you win and the nights
you surrender your head to darkness.
The muffled silences,
the melancholy on the walls, in the air,
resting on the windowsill.
The dust surely knows how to stay
and listen quietly as long as you want it to be.
While the Earth decides to revolve around the sun,
a scintillating fire glows in your heart.
A listless curvature of anxiety balling up
racing fast, mountains cracking, volcanoes erupting.
The moon is a witness to your riveting thoughts.
Faces are nothing but shadows of mannequins,
Engulfed in the linen sheets of misery
Parched heart and doleful thoughts
My heart survives million shades of despair.
Layers of melancholy embedded in my chest
like the roots of trunk in soil.
The lone grief spirals in my nightmares,
as lone as a windowsill.
I yearn for the luminosity in my Kohl eyes
A wind, long gone and long-lost.
The mornings sing tunes of lemon infused melody,
songs of starlings and hymns of God.
While the nights are dreadful.
The tossing and twitching,
The process of integrating nerves and disintegrating false hopes.
The awful roars brims up my sparse brain to and fro.
Thanks to Ms. Dagmara K., EIC of Spillwords Press to accept my poetry and publish in the same.
Grief is waterlike
A lachrymose vessel that drips,
It gradually slips off your skin,
ascends in the form of a single wave of thought
and flows unto your chest.
Continue to read Grief by Shreya Sharma
My sister leaves my place
with a whiff of subtle memories.
Her spatial countenance, like face of a new bud,
blooming petals and uncut diamonds.
My savior in dark alleys and haunted houses,
Lone deserts and amazon forests.
Sister, save me today
for you share my blood.
I can’t move. My heart denies to beat. My limbs refuse to shift.
This body is now a sea of gothic waves.
Zillions of parallel waves colliding in this vaporized structure of bones and flesh.
A living ache yearns to hail inside my empty belly,
I am this voluptuous anger today.
I am the endless storm,
birthing a vast sea of gothic waves,
and the tides not under the control of moon.
A cyclone of three-dimensional anxiety encircles my heart.