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 Oct 2014 Call Me Sara
Ocean Blue
Please, come closer
I wish to feel you near
So I can whisper
Something in your ear.
Three little words I call a secret,
A commitment I don't dare to say
But if you press on my heart
You'll feel it anyway.
There are stories in your eyes.

I never told you how
sometimes I fell asleep
with the thought that you
were perhaps the moon-

always disappearing
with the dawn.
I would awake with
nothing
but the shape of you
on my bed and the
gloom of you on
my skin.
i’m


    began                                        back

    ­
     i                                                            agai­n


where                                              at


    from ­                                  the

       place
 Oct 2014 Call Me Sara
Anand
I strive to be
like a Bo-Tree,
Dwelling so Deep
my Roots that Seek
water and nutrients from soil

Yet High I Rise
To be more Wise
by embracing
the nourishment
of Light!
This came to me when I was looking at the Pipal Tree in my garden. It has grown very tall in 8 years, and it's roots have spread far and deep.

This can be looked at from different perspectives:

1. To be strong and rooted to one's own principles, ethics and moral values. And building on them one should have a tendency to always learn something new, to attain wisdom.

2. To be strong believer of good age old teachings, traditional way of life that we are so accustomed to, that are passed on to us by our elders but also welcoming new changes and good reforms in the society.

Please feel free to reflect on your thoughts and express your perspective.
A piece of you
Reflecting back
The bitter words in your mouth
Too raw to speak
A poet is
Someone in pain
And someone in love
Someone who looks at the world
Through a kaleidoscope
Who takes a magnifying glass to each
And every
Word you say
And lets them imprint on their heart
A poet is
A star gazer
A dreamer
A chaser of
The improbable
But hopes anyway
A poet is
Tissue paper skin
A heart of glass
And a soul of titanium

A poet is
A sharp tongue
And a gentle kiss
She is a sob
He is a sigh
A poet is
The sun at midnight
Bright and
Burning
Hot
Alive
But cloaked in a darkness
They cannot shake
The brightest day
And the darkest night
A poet is
The human experience
A paradox
An oxymoron
So complicatedly
Simple

A poet is
A lover
Who refuses
To stop wearing their heart on their sleeve
No matter how much it bleeds
But rolls them up
So you can’t see
The blood stains


A poet
Is Poetry
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