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I gave my light,
soft and true,
but hands that took
just let it bruise.

A hand once open,
now worn and sore,
kindness bent
became the floor.
A very strange thing happened. There is a lady in HP, I liked all 16 of her poems because I loved the way they were written.
Alas, she blocked me, thinking I was spam..... lol.
I don’t know whether to laugh or be sad.....😅
A carpenter touches me,
  feels length and texture,
    adjusts to perfect fit,
      varnishes till I glow
        with polished pride.

Aristocratic fists
  use my glossy guide rail
    to find their champagne boxes.
      They listen in patchouli perfumed privacy
        while I hear only distant chords
          of an unseen opera.

When the lifts fail
  bent arthritic fingers grasp
    and haul old bodies
      grumbling and groaning,
        step by step,
          to the circle.

But my favourites are the sticky paws
  of children ******* sweets
    hurrying to the pantomime;
      in their haste
        they leave a tacky sucrose veneer
          on my glassy lacquer.
        
          My sugar coating lasts
      until the complaining cleaners
    reset the theatre
for tomorrow.
Fists - Cockney  rhyming slang for fists is dukes.  i.e Aristocratic fists = Aristocratic dukes.
Patchouli - is an essential oil that has an intense smell, which is often described as strong, sweet, and intoxicating.
Lift - I imagine the lift (US = elevator) is not working so the old people have to climb the stairs.
I was afraid,
searching for light,
until I realized,
the dawn was born from the night.

Fall once, rise twice....
isn't it? :)
her
her eyes wide innocent,
fur so soft.
even moon paused to admire.

her love so soothing,
only lucky would know.

she left today,
this world so cold.
oh, must be in pain,
her eyes told.

"lord give her heaven"
i pray.
may she see,
a life more wild and free.
I have two squirrels (well, now just one).... I found them in my terrace when they were only 5-6 days old, their eyes still closed.
Over time, they became more than just squirrels, they became part of our family, like true one.

But on Feb 12, one tragic incident took her away from us.

I never ever imagined that a tiny, 7.5-month-old squirrel could make me cry and scream this much.... Bbbbbut she did. Many of my poems were inspired by her. And now, writing feels so heavy, as if I have just lost my fav muse.

She was the fiery one. One wrong move, and you’d earn a bite from her,
but moments later, she’d love you like nothing ever happened... funny....right??
Love you, baby. I hope we meet again someday.....


Now everything, feels void, unknown, empty.... I don't know why.... is it common to feel that way???
Well all I know is that she was not just a squirrel. I saw myself in her. She was so much moreeeee.... I have one more, now I'll try to love and protect him more...
I sought truth,
pure white,
only to face,
a black lie.

"Why not believe?"
you said.

How can I
when you painted
everything grey?
A lil conversation between 'me' and 'my destiny.'

never knew that losing someone I love, could make me doubt my own existence.
funny, isn't it?
i gaze up at the sky,
to see who I am.

i sit in stillness,
to discover who I am.

i stand before the mirror,
to confront who I am.

when time stands still,
the world blurs,
my heart-mind asks,
"who am I?
why am I here?"
When few sudden question arises-
who am i?
why am i here?
what should i do?

Well, I am on my way...
at least I am trying, and will never give up...
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