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payal-sharma
The Fears that keep me awake overnight The Inertias that want me to stay still, always The Dilemmas that make me a prisoner of indecision The Hitches that say "Oh!! How can you do that" The Inhibitions that pull me backwards The Fallacies that prove me wrong, always... I shall win you all with my ink...
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Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 2:13 PM UTC
With my ink
Sometimes... It is so very wonderful to be lost To be lost in the wilderness of woods And confide one's deepest secrets With the rustling leaves To chat for hours and hours together With the inquisitive woodpecker To engrave the Odd Old Oak bark With those unspoken dreams To laugh aloud With the exotic orchids laughing in company To weep openly With the giant Banyan caressing your soul Sometimes... It is so very wonderful to find yourself...
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Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 3:51 AM UTC
To be lost
She would often keep a bunch of carnations Every morning, by her bedside, To remind her of the beauty of nature all around. She would also place an hourglass Everyday, at her work table To feel the sands of time slipping through the fingers She would also light a lamp Every evening, in front of His idol To see these lights spread into her life But This is the 'forgetful Her' Sometimes she would forget The carnations The hourglass and The lamp What she does not forget is The dreams... The broken dream The utopian dream or The dreamy dream She would settle a bundle of dreams Every night, under her  pillow, without fail To remind her of the elegance of her thoughts and The charisma of tomorrow...
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Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
Forgetful Her
Wounds, Scars and Bruises She despised them all For they tainted her beauty This was youth. But age taught her several things Wounds, Scars and Bruises Were okay if they appeared Only on the skin This was middle age. For wounded heart, Scarred soul and Bruised relationships Ached far more. This was maturity
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Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
Wounds, Scars and Bruises
What a combination!! Thirsty trees, Drizzling drops, Tantalizing twilight and A Dancing dove. What a combination!! White paper, Black ink, Poetic lines and A World of thoughts. What a combination!! Leisure time, Frosty winters, Hot coffee and An Enchanting book. What a combination!! Dark night, Gleaming Moon, Autumnal breeze and A patient ear. What a combination!! Small Eyes, Big dreams, Undying spirit and A pinch of faith. It all reminds me of You!!
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Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 8:09 AM UTC
What a combination!!
Oh Friend!! You are an orator...an orator par excellence When you speak you leave most of us spellbound You counsel- of failures, of breakups, of despair You talk and talk unhindered Expressing the sad You, the happy You The confident You, the not- so - calm You The assertive You, the submissive You... But tell me one thing When was the last time you talked to yourself When did you share your sorrows with yourself When did you last introspect about life When did you sit with yourself for a cup of coffee When...my friend...when ?
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Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
An ode to an orator
I write of Nature, Music and Tranquility Faith, Belief and Humility. But when it comes to beings, Mom!! You are the only subject, I have. Poems, Proses or Paragraphs. And very oft I wonder why?? You're just a plain folk!! That Common appearance Those Simple Attitudes and An insignificant existence, For the world at large Then why... Why do you invariably steal the mind. I ponder... Perhaps, because, in this world Where people fail to listen to their own hearts You fathom my heart,a bit too fast Where people don't gather the words I speak You hear even my silence, that too so well When the world mocks at me, a bit too loudly You're there to laugh with me, far more louder And what appeals me the most is... Where each being owns many a masks You, at all the times, are always 'You' And nothing else Making my writings relevant Today, Tomorrow and Forever...
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Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
The only subject I have
I wanted to be a musician Compose the Punk, the Goth and the Rock And leave you mesmerized, all the times But the strings, the chords and the beats Refused to befriend me. Then I wanted to be a painter Bring myriads of hues on an empty canvas And leave you bewitched, all the times But the colors, the brushes, the strokes Refused to befriend me. So I decided to be a writer And express my heart out Everything... Agonies, ambitions and aspirations Fears, fantasies and fallacies To create a symphony, this time with words That appeals your mind & sinks into your soul To paint caricatures, this time with words That is a treat for the creative You My writings have not won any laurels But that does not mean it's all in vain. If you can listen to this music And relish these paintings, I made with words My job is done I have become a musician and a painter too.
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Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 12:50 PM UTC
A Musician and Painter
As you pack my bags, Mom Wrap an ounce of Faith too, The One You have in me. For there are times, When you are not around. There's dusk, twilight and Gloom And that innocent bud fears to Bloom. Darkness keenly creeps in And sunshine witfully shys away. Goodness faints and Wickedness prevails. I begin to stumble and fumble. I (unfortunately) begin to resemble All but myself. Then I shall secretly open my bags And cling on to that ounce of faith. I tell you Mom... I tell you, for sure I will emerge a stronger being That day I will be myself That day...
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Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
An Ounce of Faith
I do not ask you for a better life Neither do I ask you to bless me with all the happiness I do not crave for the entire wealth of the world Neither do I have the longing to be a super power Places I have been to many, things I have seen plenty I adore all but wish for none….. All I wish you to give me is the strength to tread a path unchartered To follow an oft-travelled road is not my idea I want to sing a song yet unsung I want to give my soul to dancing but the dance shall have no precedents Music, I wish to play But the notes shall be mine, just mine All I do-good or bad, pretty or ugly shall be truly unique Shall be mine…… To step into other’s footprints is not my philosophy All I dream is to create footprints…. footprints of my own.
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Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 3:40 AM UTC
Footprints