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 Feb 2014 DSD
Mahima Gupta
Metaphor
 Feb 2014 DSD
Mahima Gupta
I live the life of a metaphor
Leaking out of stolen pens
I've been carved on pieces of wood
And people still interpret me differently
I choose to remain indestructible
My worth fluctuates with the readers taste
I make a difference in some places
I might just go unnoticed
Like a wilted rose and it's bleeding petals
Lying behind the window pane
I represent the spectrum
In the gray tinted universe
I'm forced into the anecdotes
In places I don't want to be
Creating a dark impression
Like a mirror in front of the wall
Mocking at its own reflection.
 Feb 2014 DSD
Pablo Neruda
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.
When I run on the road of potholes
Beat the signal to go to other side
I feel the worth of my tattered soles
Thank good luck for being on my side.

You needn’t shed a tear
You needn’t mind it dear
Though came the new year
Didn’t buy a new pair.

I tell you through my tears
I’m not a miser
But through all my years
Have grown wiser!


It has run all concrete length
Sun’s heat and soaking rain
But still is left with strength
To sprint on all terrain!

You needn’t tell me dear
It brings me lump of tear
That its death is overdue
It’s time to get a new!


I tell you a fact of truth
My holed mate looks uncouth
Looks wretched in broken sole
But it's a living faithful soul.
 Feb 2014 DSD
K Balachandran
Wasn't I
the reverberating
moonbeam
that seeped in to
your expectant womb,
in spasms
you wreathed as if
an electric ray
stung you unawares
when you were swimming
in depths of pleasure
seeking that peak to climb
and dive quickly to the surface.
We lay still
side by side,
that moment was
written in our cells
as remembrance,
that was the high point
nature told us earlier in whispers.
From that moment
we started to wilt,
bit by bit
though it hardly did show,
that's the nature's prompt,
when the seeds are well spread.
We are shadows
that dissolve at sun down
though you flowered
again, few times
and I made you remember
the intensity of the
first time,
in the history of our lives as
just plants in other forms
the eclipse starts
as the seeds seek fertile
land to grow
and claim their space.
 Feb 2014 DSD
Chloe
Nightfall
 Feb 2014 DSD
Chloe
Dark floats out into the silence
Crashing on the banks of Prometheus's wings
Opening a velvet-silk curtain.
To a fabric of shadowed stars
Cloudy fingers sew it clean
While invisible hands stitch pearls back in.
A ghost flits on the hallway stair
Reaching for the last shafts of sun
Tumbling off a silent dream
Blind as black with a lullaby hum
Filling the gaps in an empty line
Somewhere between dusk and dawn.
Just a little thing from 2-3 years ago, since I only have my phone on me at the moment. Based on Romeo and Juliet
 Feb 2014 DSD
Theia Gwen
Escapism
 Feb 2014 DSD
Theia Gwen
She reads
                                          And she sleeps
                                                      Way too much
                                                            ­           It's her coping defence
                                                                ­               When nothing else will suffice
                                                         ­               She needs to get away
                                                       Without actually leaving
                                             Because she's too scared
                                   And too tired
                                            To leave her bed
                                                      So she cracks open a book
                                                            ­     To escape somewhere far away
                                                            ­             And she'll sob for the characters
                                                      ­                       Whose brokenness resembles hers
                                                            ­                                   And then she'll sleep
                                                           ­                                   And have sweet dreams
                                                          ­              Of realities that are not her own
                                                       Because pretending is so much easier
                                                 Than facing reality
                             So she'll sleep and dream
          And secretly wish she won't wake up
So she can finally escape
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