What an undying fantasy
that flickers through her downcast face,
painting over a somber portrait.
So I searched for the cause of that mirth,
which I thought was long due.
Was it due to the divine fugue
which we sat listening?
So I treated it as a quest,
to quench the unrest
that seems perennial;
and a genial sunshine for
growth and comfort would be favourable.
And a grand chorus would fill the room
but not wash-away the fear and gloom
that has been gathered.
Alas, with every act I weakened!
Hence, I let the symphony
fill-in the quiet of the entire room.
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
The sound is astral,
Sent out to undo the carnage.
It will spread a sudden lull;
build a mirthful barrage
to divert hostility,
into the silent sea.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
Through the sudden mist of fiery eyes
and the most enticing tresses,
of grey, black and white
pressing against her head.
A pear, so pale and dilapidated;
with a stick grabbed to support that gait.
She’s covered in white, or any shade
that explains her weary state
Vanity or verve, she has none,
for all the opposition she has faced.
A little crack on her lips
with uneasiness and much force,
for she has lived all her life,
devoted to petty chores.
An ode to her should be sublime,
One that exalts her to the stars.
Yet, none could i offer, but a mirthless stare
Once her body was laid-down, bare
for mother earth,
to consume and inhume,
As i watched with unspoken guilt.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 3:19 AM UTC
I rejoiced when i discovered the blue sky,
for its little joys were serene and sedate.
The songbird sang, the bluebells swayed, and enraptured me;
I drank each moment with my breath abate.
A different shade, though not so clear,
plundered me off my bliss!
A hue so dark, it gave me gloom
by its sinister kiss.
Such thoughts of melancholy and despair,
cloud every blue sky.
The bird’s song is hushed; no conquests to live by.
The only thought that haunts my reverie,
is the loss of a safer haven.
For people like us,
there is no open sky,
no open sea,
hence freedom hangs like heaven.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
Within my mind, an impulse did arise
and I approached with impunity,
Oh! How my head was seething with animosity;
I hushed, kept my movement languid
For I was never a hooligan.
But in my mind, the baroque act had begun;
That thirst for ****** ****** oh did it satiate!
My fingers around his neck,
his gasping breath,
Oh the grotesque parade!
Rabid were my actions for this spiritless conquest,
How dare I let my writhing fingers rest?
An unsound melody had begun to pour,
for in my mind I was writing a deify lore.
It was at my mind’s behest that he didn’t protest,
he neither croaked, nor screamed.
Alas! I had encountered, a latent proclivity,
in my fever dream.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
How does one depart from misery
That grows like vine;
When bare abetment from beloved
Is sublime.
When a cloud of disquiet cloaks thee,
Self-loathing and disdain become
a moral decree.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 1:50 AM UTC