Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Pranjal Singh Apr 2021
Travails along a shoddy lane,
stomping feet and guarded mane,
terrible trifles of thorny tail,
agile on thought yet so frail.

Hopping among the tiniest grass,
engulfed in whirlpool of words so crass,
never mind the irony of dreamy dance,
upon the crown of victory by chance.

Warped sense of space and time,
bells of futile fortitude chime,
for under the canopy, darkness brightened,
thumping footsteps of creatures, frightened.

No wisdom tooth would save the fool,
shameful grace of apparently harmless tool,
nonetheless, the beast pounced upon its prey,
and destroyed every bit along its way.
Pranjal Singh Apr 2021
Silently sobbing all through the night,
he dreamed of places far away,
Surplus land, abundant in love,
the reality, his aching heart evaded.

In fantasy, he found solace,
for his own world was distraught with pain,
monumental achievements demolished in an instant,
much as he cherished their hollow foundations.
But his adventure was lived short,
he had to face the wrath of fate,
vile in intent, perfect in shape,
a venomous spider had spun its web.

Trapped in the web of furious allegations,
his soul filled with deplorable discontent,
foul play was not his style,
but underestimated the transgressions of his fellow mates.

Nowhere left to reach now, he walked tirelessly,
along the direction of endless tunnel,
he kept on searching for a speck of light,
as the tunnel transformed into a spiral devoid of a center.
Pranjal Singh Apr 2021
We promised we'd walk together
Till we reached the end of road
Bearing the notorious pangs of weather
As we faint and our memory erodes.

The forbidden quest was doomed from inception
Our hearts pounding with guilt and shame
Of the debilitating deeds driven by deception
To engrave our names in the hall of fame.

There is no heaven, no hell beyond
Neither blessed angel wings nor cursed devil's horn
Our souls exorcised, drowned in the pond
Of humble arrogance, as we stand still and mourn.
Pranjal Singh May 2020
Tried to assemble the scrambled pieces
Still it would not make any sense.
Absurdity shackles me out of my wits,
As I chuckle at my apparent foolishness.

Nothing, it seemed, fell into place,
The distant yearning, a  childish game,
more I seek, more I go astray,
in muddling concepts, the trap has been laid.

All my suggestions fizzled out,
fickle ideas bombarded my brain,
thoughts tinkered with frightful spirits,
though I could not retrace my lost way.

In a final blow of haphazard symmetry,
the puzzle finally revealed itself,
pieces suddenly shimmered with brilliance,
as they returned to their scattered chaotic stasis.
Pranjal Singh Apr 2020
Struggled through ages of toil,
withered by seasons' change,
a solitary leaf on the treacherous path
in restless peace lay motionless.

Anterior reflected a tumultuous past,
of sorrows disguised in veil of mirth,
a crippling sensation tortured the innards
as particles bombarded in disarray.

Trampled upon intermittently,
the colour had lost its character,
moths crawled all over the skin
while it remained paralyzed with terror.

Memories were the only retreat,
when the cold winds had blown with youthful exuberance,
the storm had groaned with vicious ferocity,
raindrops had nourished each of its cell.

A gust of wind tossed it up in the air,
a ray of hope flickered within
to rise above the physical inhibitions
and reconcile with fellow leaves on the tree.

The moment passed and hope vanished,
it fell with a thunderous thud,
the agonizing cry which no one heard
as it crumpled under heavy footsteps,
Silently awaiting the end.
Pranjal Singh Apr 2020
Boarded the vessel for a voyage unknown
into the history of terrible tales,
tempestuous winds struck the sails,
with a devastating vigour unrestrained.

A wisp of mist engulfed them all
in its sublime courtesy of hidden vaults,
boisterous sailors revelled in the presents
brought by the storm on Poseidon's whim.

The gambit triumphed , the sailors descended,
into madness of glory and power unchained.
Mortal dread creeped up from within,
as the bellowing groans threatened the silent stillness
of impending doom, the wrath of Kraken.

Macabre greed consumed the maniacs,
devoured their flesh in utter misery
as sickles cut into their bones
with venomous fangs of serpent abhorred.

The Gods rejoiced, men sulked in disdain,
as all their prayers went in vain,
at last, the vultures arrived and reaped the harvest
of figures tormented in dreadful dungeons of corruption,
with a ghastly smile strewn across their face.
Pranjal Singh Mar 2020
We won’t stop
Fulfilling  the emptiness of our dismantled souls,
rendered breathless by toxic channels
of relentless greed and confounding desires.

We won’t stop
Disrupting the serenity of peace loving nature
till the foul nauseating smell of its decay,
fills our nostrils like stench of flesh devoured by hounds.

We won’t stop
The silent wails of terrified trees, asking
to cease the bloodless massacre of its species,
calling out to our conscience if there’s any left in us.

We won’t stop
Till the cacophony of croaking crows,
roaring lions and howling wolves
transforms into an orchestra of deafening silence.

We won’t stop
Till we ravage the land with elegant structures,
hallmark of our intellectual capabilities, unfettered wisdom,
with not a place vacant to rest in peace.

We won’t stop
Till a global pandemic forces us,
to face our transient mortality,
frailties of highest order,
helplessness in wake of crisis.

We won’t stop
Till all that we hold dear is snatched from us,
stripped of all its marvelous magnificence,
tossed into the bottomless pit
of our innumerable needs.

We won’t stop
Till all that’s left
is incessant abundance of nothingness.

— The End —