saniaa-shah
Nepalese
Hello, Poets and Poetesses! I'm an amateur dabbling in creative writing since school but never got published anywhere beyond the high school magazine. I grew up in Kathmandu, Nepal, and now reside in Mumbai, India, where I am a trainee in the creative department in advertising. Some distinguished poets I appreciate greatly are Roald Dahl, Robert Frost, Edgar Allen Poe, Walt Whitman, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Pablo Neruda, Lewis Carroll, and Rumi. However, contemporary poetry also excites me. I look forward to exposing myself to new poetry from all over the world at Hello Poetry. Hope you enjoy what I share in this space. :)
The skies wept tears of honey,
The seas roared with glee,
Clouds burst with excitement,
As you were brought to me.
The trees grew giddy with laughter,
The wide-eyed walls could see,
This miracle was way overdue,
You were finally brought to me.
Tall lamp posts stood like bridesmaids,
As if so proud to be
Witnessing this glorious day
Of you being brought to me.
Past fields full of sunshine,
Fate stood on one knee,
“I have a surprise for you,” it said,
So, you were brought to me.
The rain gods began to play
Their grand love symphony.
Even puddles appeared to be beaming
At how you were brought to me.
It’s like the universe was celebrating
For my Love was brought to me.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 5:52 AM UTC
A mere few days without you,
and a strong itching manifests inside.
My thoughts feel dry - lack of oxygen.
My mind feels sore from resistance.
My soul, far from content.
My heart, like a lactating mother
with no infant to feed.
Like milk-filled *******
it feels heavy,
with only wet cheeks for company.
I need my fix, it tells me.
A spoonful of you will do.
It revels in denial but
it knows this love is true.
The first step to de-addiction
is acceptance, as they say.
Well, acceptance be ******
I’ll embrace it.
Celebrate it.
Host a party and cut a cake for it.
I will squeal with ****** saying
Yes! Yes! Oh yes!
I’m addicted to you.
They were right, I guess.
Love is a drug.
It messes with my head to no end.
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 6:41 AM UTC
I’m falling, falling, falling,
In a love trap, I am caught.
So thrilling, almost illegal,
Like it’s Satan’s little plot.
The Devil gave me instructions
To go ahead and misbehave.
He said, life is full of adventures.
He’s worth it; be brave.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 7:07 AM UTC
Those big brown eyes atwinkling,
The slightest curl of the lips,
It took such petty things to make
My heart do quick back flips.
Infectious laughter echoes
Through my weak, lovesick mind.
Remnants of enchanting moments,
Happy memories I find,
Which make my heart break
Into an undeniable smile.
Each one was so spectacular,
Worth every ******* mile.
But oh! Come winter I may choose
To play a different game.
Or perhaps I'll find it burdensome
To quench this blazing flame.
In which case, I guess I'll feel
the same, the same, the same.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 3:20 AM UTC
At a time when I’d never seen
What chaos love creates in the mind,
I wrote a Valentine’s poem.
Chocolate and flowers won’t do, I announced.
I want a man of substance.
As if I was full of substance, me:
This silly little girl pining over boys
Instead of doing her homework.
Substance, to me, was only words
That came straight from the heart.
Those pretty ripples on the surface of the water
Embodied the essence of everything.
What gems lay on the floor of the sea,
Raw, sunken and hardly visible,
Did not matter in the least.
Today I swim about with flailing arms
Like a lost snorkeler in the deep Caribbean
Reaching out for the slightest glimmer I see.
Diamonds and pearls, please come to me!
I’ll treasure you till eternity.
But alas, it is dust sparkling in the sun
And nothing more. I find I must
Let go of my dream of spotting gleaming
Jewels floating above the ocean floor.
This silly little girl is now pining over dreams
Instead of living a dry reality.
Perhaps a man of substance has no need
In this world full of deceptive discoveries.
Perhaps chocolate and flowers can
Shroud my thoughts in their sweetness,
Just to keep me happy.
And perhaps movies are made cheesy
To reflect our shallow truth,
Wrapped in cellophane and ribbons,
Straight from the nearest Archies Gallery.
Feb 9, 2012
Feb 9, 2012 at 5:00 AM UTC