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  Jul 11 Aneesh H
Divya Midha
The Mask I have,
it masks my face !
Protecting me from COVID
at every new place!!

I wear this Mask, Morning till Dine!
A bit suffocating,
but keeps me breathe fine!!

I‘ve chosen the one,
easy to knot!
It does look funny!
or probably may not!!

It keeps me safe from the pandemic blow!
But doesn’t hide My “SELF”,
from the world I know!!

It never hides my sorrows,
My grief or my pain !
It doesn’t stop my tears,
that roll down as rain!!

The Mask I have,
is visible to all!
Unlike the ones, keeping
another behind the wall!!

The second one they keep,
Isn't  visible on  face!
Hiding their emotions,
true self and grace!!

The mask they carry, is not for the care!!
It helps to pretend,
someone so rare!!

I wish the day comes, when fear goes away!
To never come back
never ever any day!!

“The secret”, I visualized,
I am writing to convey!  
To Live being REAL
as long as we stay!!
Let’s “PUT OFF” these masks ,
On One Fine Day!!
Aneesh H Jul 9
I desire a daily verse:
A dose of well-worded fun;
Be it verbose or terse
Wrap it in a witty pun!
Aneesh H Jul 8
Do we need a verse
To heed, To converse?

All that this vagrant begs:
A gentle caress, a soft murmur
A warm embrace, a wafted whisper

Pumping up each vein:
Memories of an incurable pain
While you feign nonchalance
Of the nightly jasmine's fragrance
Aneesh H Apr 10
Every night I shut my eyes
In the hope of a new 'morrow
Only to see the sun rise
To the same, sullen sorrow!
Aneesh H Mar 8
Every experience of mine - high or low
Is a seed I sow
The time of Sun, doth shine
Blossoming into a flower
Or remain buried in the soil
A silent testimony of my toil
Etched in the mind of Earth
Lighting a poor man's hearth.
Aneesh H Mar 8
Giveth but half a description: crude,
The state of the self incessant, I brood
Fatigued; In vain, in the dark
I await, a patient ear that lark-

My pain, a frozen litany but to utter
Unconsoled, feeble, I stutter
That, my desolate heart belongeth not in gaiety,
nor misery..an existential entity, a lost liberty.
Aneesh H Mar 8
After the cows come home
And the sun goes down
And the moon spills milk

As the world shuts its eyes
Withdrawing its senses
Like a still tortoise

I awaken to life
Perched upon the Parijata;
Taking unto myself
the agony of the world
in silent contemplation.
What of the haunt of the night
Before the haunt of my heart!
Parijata is a mythical tree supposed to be in Heaven. Associated with the love story of Lord Krishna and Satyabhama
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