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Seema Feb 24
And forth came a glimpse
Of a withered face,
In the broken mirror,
That stands behind the curtain lace
Grey, messy hair bun,
Wrinkle filled sunken eyes
A heavy set of, glass rests
On the nose, pointing skies
The fresh mint tea brew
Excits, the twitched lips
Oh, dear I miss thee -
Thy soul that rips
Guide these trembling hands
To thank in a prayer
The lousy back won't help
For my walker, has lost a pair
Dragging one leg by other
As I sit by the fireplace
Sipping the fragranced tea
Rocking my chair in a pace
Thousands of memories
Rail down my alzheimers head
So many years gone
Now, it's just me and my empty bed
Tears fill and spill by its own will
I got to pack up, for I to, have to leave
Leaving all memories behind
In a slient place to grieve
A small room, I am spared to
At the golden age gardenia
I am almost gone from myself
Just few threads, hanging near...

Recently, visited the Golden Age Home. So many old and left alone people with sorrowful eyes greeted. Inspired.
Seema Dec 2018
Talk of those tales, that race my heart
And thrills my feelings
Those that of, passionate moments
Spent in each others arms
The sunset and the slow sipping of
Our favorite wine
Eyes locked in few instances
That speak of thousand thoughts
The lips genuinely invites a gentle kiss
Over and over
While you keep your gaze fixed on me
Embracing the blushy look on my face
And breaking it into a joke
An unbelievable feeling of closeness erupts
Yet, both content on their motion
Soon, letting the emotions flow
Our lips met each other
A hot vibe ran into my veins
And I was taken deeper into trance
Getting a hold onto, I ****** myself off
Only to find, him drunk drolled on the counter
With my hand in his grip
Thank you, Santa..

Seema Dec 2018
A word unspelt
The words unsaid
A wrong turn again
It may be bad
From one end to another
The evidence makes no sense
There could be another way
Why feel tensed
The heavy clouds will soon fade
And moon will give us the way
It's gotta be somewhere
Not so far away
Whoever has laid hands on
The buried old scripts
Have gone missing
On their adventurous trips
What is in it,
That one craves to find
Is it a treasure map
Or a portal of any kind
I feel it isn't a good idea
To join this group of five
It is still time
To run and be alive

But wait...

What is that noise, I hear
The other five lanterns
Seem to have disappeared
Like being swallowed
By some form of evil
I may be wrong, coz am quite behind
To even reach the grounds
Where, burried are those scripts
And a curse that bounds
I decided not to continue
Any further and put my life in danger
So I waited for day break
And that's when, I met a stranger...


An unusually dressed figure
That like of an ancient priest
With a hood covering
Emerging, from behind the trees
May be, he is one of the five
But how can I be sure
As the figure looked strange
Or perhaps, trying to lure
I sat next to a big rock
Keeping my eyes fixed
A sudden brush of winds
And the place seem to be mixed
I blinked to clear my view
Of that of dirt and dust
Pieces of rags flew
In the wildly gust
Intoxicating scent caught my senses
And I seemed to be drowning
From below my feet
Hours later, opening my eyes
On a hard solid ground
Surrounded by
Unearthly or earthy crowd?


Whispers of death
Rang in my ears
Blurred vision gave way
To my crouching fears

Where am I?

Above the ground of below
Is it my grave
Or a tomb
Like cave
Dim lights sprawl
As I try to stand
The ground suddenly shakes
And on my chest, I land

Is it my end?

Glitters and shine
From the passing ray of lights
A graveyard of buried treasures
Below many heights
It, definitely must be a dream
Yet, I can still feel
The chill of hovering death
Crawling beneath my heels
I dare not look down
To scream my head out
So I slowly, crawled
Towards the faint light
From where I heard the strangers call
Standing slowly,
not to disturb the peace
I followed the voice
That led among the trees...


The moon was bright
And I felt the cold breeze
Brushing enough
For my ears and nose to freeze
Then a voice cracked
Of that of an old man

"he who bares no greed,
shall walk free",
"he who dares to steal,
shall be buried alive"

The stranger -

Your life is spared
From the cursed wrath
Your soul is pure
In the eyes of death
You lack the ingredient
That most posses
So have perished
And left lifeless
It is the greed
That is cursed in a being
Thus, all five got buried
With their share and sin
You walk free unharmed
Return to your people
And let them know
Whoever walks through
The path in search of scriptural treasure
Shall be cursed and buried
Within the treasure

And I, blink -

Far from the place
As I was in the night
Back to my senses
Welcoming day light
Life of mine is precious
That no penny or treasure
Can ever buy
Who wants to live a cursed life
And live behind their lies
I lack the seed
Of greed
That I don't intend to plant
I shall read
And educated
On how harmful, is this

Spilling imagination. A story poem.
Seema Dec 2018
Catch me if I fall
Answer me if I call

Love me if I show
Protect me wherever I go

Miss me if I leave
Return a kiss to please

Cheer me if I am sad
Leave me, when I am dead

With you I'd like to live
My life to you, I give

Coz you are the key to my heart
And I am not planning to depart

An old write.
Seema Dec 2018
A wrecked knights plea
In the stormy night
For some food and shelter
Till the approach of light

Dripping and drapping
Some dragging and begging
For the light not to come
While, praying and nagging

The spirit of dead surrounds
While rain of fire showers
Upon the half dead knights
Feeding onto their powers

I am lost to continue this journey
The fog fills in the sight
Howling, splashes all I hear
The **** breaks, tonight...

Spilling imagination.
Seema Dec 2018
I don't know what I lack
Whether it's my words
Or the way I express
Is it the slack tone
Of the rhymes that
Don't really rhyme
Perhaps, it's the format
That's not done right
From left to right align
The words hold on tight
An image painted
A reel of story played
Yet, the characters seem dead
And that's where, I fade
While putting all the words I had
From my mind to the pad
Without thinking,
I spill my life
In your hands - the ink

Spilling thoughts.
Seema Dec 2018
Love me like other
Under the dimming shy sky
Life be born again

5-7-5 syllables
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