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Baqirtalpur
Baqirtalpur
26/M/Hyderabad, Pakistan A computer engineering uaing poetry to make sense of the world. IG: wordmontage
Goddess, such a relegating term But then again, How do you abridge someone Who embodies universes inside? How do I, a mere wanderer, who is in awe of your luminous wit Who has traversed her terrains, Strolled from the glacier Though her well carved volcanoes Down to her meadows where, Her majestic rivers meet and form conflux. Where her flower continuesly disperse The elixir of eternal life, When it is kindled by the desire. How could i, a mere nomad Who continouesly crave this water of life Who is always seeking this fountain, do you justice, And encapsulate you, the infinite beauty, In one word, Except for the relegating term Goddess, That my petty mind could come up with.
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Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
Goddess
Our eyes entwined together, Whilst my fingers appreciate her curves. With each touch runs a ripple, Down her spine and beyond. Her fingers swirl around in my hair, Complementing them, For the maze they are. My existence buried in hers, Striving to keep its identity, Craving the honey dripping down her *** Her existence drowning in mine, Like its hit by a thousand tsunamis, All at once. She tries her best to keep it all down, Hide the obvious tell-tales of glee, Her burning cheeks and scarlet smile, Her twinkling eyes and dry lips, But her sporadic breaths are telling the tales. Revealing the secrets of the ecstatic sin.
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Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 5:20 AM UTC
The estatic sin
What was our love, If not just an other Shakespearean tragedy? An other story of tragic heroes cursed by their fate, Struggling to exist within their characters. You, facing the external conflicts from family. Me and my internal conflict (of not being courageous enough). Our tragic loss of our selves and each other, Thanks to the diabolical supernatural elements, Playing their own characters in the play. The lack of poetic justice, causing a poor end to the tragedy. And in the end a comic relief, through the humorous character of time it self. Tell me again, What was our love, If not just an other Shakespearean tragedy?
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Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 4:50 AM UTC
A Shakespearean Tragedy
I suppose i was confined to darkness For a wee bit of a time. But they say the light comes, The things change, And the darkness loses. And maybe it is true. But i wonder if darkness Really loses to the light. Then why it always leaves a shadow behind?
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Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 6:31 AM UTC
Shadows
Some where between the perpetual isolation that we created in the name of personal space. The wounds that were never healed, Because they never received the ointment of attention. The misunderstandings That pilled up into a giant rumpus, And ignited the dubious disposition, turning the intimate conversations into constant fights. The love that we lost, To the demonic darkness of our egoistic nature, Still exists, But only in the fragments Of some moth-eaten memories.
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Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 12:31 PM UTC
Moth-eaten Memories
Let’s defy these scientific rules for a minute And immobilize this systematic reality. Lets make our own personal route Towards a surreal land, just like fantasy A place where i could stretch my arm and grab a star A place where you could sit by my side, holding a jar. Where we could put them in jar and keep it under the moon. Then listen to their sweet, soothing and mellow tune. Where we could make anything from their glowing dust. Or use them to fullfil our wishes, if we must. A place where we could be together for ***** Only if we could defy scientific rules for once.
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Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 10:57 AM UTC
Distant Place
Isn’t it incredible? How i fall in love With a different thing Every day. Yesterday, it was your laugh. Today, it is your memory. And tomorrow maybe, Just maybe, It would be our communion; Beyond the shackles of worldly ordeal.
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Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 7:28 AM UTC
Ordeal
Yes, I was a poem and so were you Written on the same page Of an old rusty book. Both, started with the same word. Both, written in the same style. Both, packing the whole universe inside Filled with magical fantasies. You, with light of galaxies in your heart. Me, with deepness of blackholes in my mind. Words, written in star dust, composing us Making us similar in so many ways And yet our divergent interpretations, Making us apart from each other. You, a poem about union of lovers Euphoric, buoyant, and glowing Like glittering magical stars of night. Me, a poem about act of separation. Crestfallen, doleful, and gloomy Like an abandoned house In the middle of a desert.
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Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 6:35 AM UTC
Alike But Apart
When melancholy besets And memories strike When roses lost in books Turn into silver spikes When you hear the sobbing sounds From the walls of your room And the world around you Feels like a perpetual doom When you feel that you’re trapped And that you’re a lost cause When people close to you Laugh at your blemish and flaws When you can not see a way And all your hope disappears I want you to read this poem And know that someone cares
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Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 4:01 AM UTC
Perpetual Doom
There it is, A blank piece of paper Looking at me like a homeless child Asking me to fill it up With love and care. But I have got nothing. Words lost, feelings deaden. Eyes dry and heart frozen. Sitting here, hopeless Looking back, speechless I Feel its pain and heart break But I couldn't do anything Except for thinking How could i be this gruesome? How could world be this gruesome?
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Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 1:52 AM UTC
Blank Piece of Paper