Transcending up above into the sky,
floating in mid-air,
thousands of tiny bubbles in dulcet making their way out,
dancing like magenta glass-beads,
when sunlight scatters them into hexagons and prisms in mosaic,
fizzling out of reality into the imaginary,
so does my thoughts causing demolitions of the archaic,
as soon as i poke one -
to escape from reality,
it pops and disappears,
bringing my subtle ideas to gravity.
©anshikakushwaha
Jun 4, 2020
Jun 4, 2020 at 8:43 AM UTC
I tried to paint a picture,
holding my canvas and brushes still,
i took my brush into shades of blue hue,
to paint my sky over the hills,
but it appeared red.
i wondered how and then began again,
i dipped my brush and blew some paint on the paper,
it was adsorbed as patches but again none appeared blue later,
then it hit me~
'red' is the colour that has painted my thoughts,
red is the colour rushing into my capillaries,
and red is the colour i am immersed in ,
for red is the 'colour of love',
and i could think of nothing but love,
whether it's painting, poetry or prose,
for colouring millions of tiny worlds ,
red will be the colour everytime i will choose,
for 'red' is the colour of love,
and i could think of nothing but only love.
©anshikakushwaha
Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 2:51 AM UTC