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His lips are not of sinners
yet the taste is slowly turning bitter.
Hell is here and I fear my love for him.
Kisses are getting *****;
with a tint of innocence, however quirky.
But he has a pure soul and a fine mind.
There’s fire all over in this,
and he’s seeking peace.
I want to calm him with the blood running in my veins;
vigilant enough to burn him with my flames.
He likes speaking in between breaths.
I like making him shut in breaks.
My words are less to describe his eyes,
delightful and dangerous at the same time.
He is aware of the strength in my arms,
I’m sure of making him melt in them.
Magic in wild and colors in life,
makes him want the dark more.
He has a heart of a King,
still demands demon wings!
- Aishwarya Kulkarni
Clumsy knees,
Wrinkled eyes
& rough palms.
Beauty is everywhere,
See what is behind the dark
& for this you need to look from within.
Make your heart fair,
Also, your thoughts clear
& this would be a clean place.
Winsome mind,
Complimentary lips
& a kind soul.
- Aishwarya Kulkarni
Every time you read a poem,
it would be different than previous.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and add warmth into raw words of obvious.
A poem is a mystery to everyone,
filled with pain and desires.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and arrange the words before they expire.
A poem can make lifeless person feel alive,
but make the mind a horrific place.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and let words flow in their own space.
A poem could be difficult to understand,
because it possesses calm and clash.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and avoid words to turn into ash.
If poems would be written on the skin,
everything would bleed and shed.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and instead of vintage words turn red.
-Aishwarya Kulkarni
Slow kisses and fast heartbeats,
Soft fingers and crushed sheets.
No inch untouched with your violet lips all around,
Cover me with your skin because I desire to be brown.
Gasp close to my ear and make me moan,
Let the fire flow from flesh to bone.
Run your palms through my hair,
Look me in the eye and make it worth a stare.
Drench me with the wine so white,
Decorate me at the sinful night.
Allow my neck to feel your tongue gliding,
Tolerate your back to undergo tracing.
Mind full of power; but body being hungry!
A forbidden soul; taste of **** poetry.
-Aishwarya Kulkarni
the white moon and all the bright stars,
the bitter espresso and all the cold nights,
the unclear intimacy and all the prolonged talks,
the cozy sheet and all the free glimpses,
the hardest fall and all the vague hugs,
the heartfelt love and all the bad kisses,
the wild heart and all the improbable dreams,
the sacred trust and all the naked thoughts,
the correct intuition and all the wrong decisions,
the lost soul and all the hidden scars,
the slow poison and all the forgotten memories.
- Aishwarya Kulkarni
How’s this happening of me holding a pen again?
Trapped in the wit and bound by each vein.
My vision is blurred but my mind is clear;
I’ll take a paper but there’s something I fear.
Combination of thoughts made up inside my head;
The part of life simultaneously alive and dead.
The stars and the moon just one glance away;
Nobody knows how much these eyes weigh!
The eyelids are lift up to feel alive;
Emotions hit and put out the main five.
The dark isn’t enough to devastate;
Oh it's already midnight and the following date!
I can hear my name called out by the adjacent river;
Winds and waves leaving me to shiver.
This world is numb and cold;
My soul is drifting apart and it needs to be hold.
Look I am still breathing;
But my hands are freezing.
Yet I complete the poem and put a full stop of done;
Miracles do happen, I’ve recently experienced one.
Now I keep my pen & paper aside;
This happens all the time and I’m always abide.
Twenty-four hours of exertion and sound;
It requires some peace to be found.
This is an unending chain;
How’s this happening of me holding a pen again?
-Aishwarya Kulkarni
Everyone over thinks,
but no one is ready to accept;
each mind moves a thousand miles every day.
Everyone is unhappy,
but no one believes to be;
we are fooled by ourselves and the world as well.
Everyone is judgemental,
but no one wants to be a prey for one;
the only attitude we all possess is being casual.
Ego is put at priority
Comparison is considered fine.
Defeats aren't always welcomed
Victories need to be refused at times.
The problem is :
we think we all are smart,
we think we all are grown ups,
we think we can never be incorrect.
But the problem is :
we all are living in an illusion of acting smart;
the lives portrayed aren't the lives lived.
We belong to the generation which is gormless.
The generation which is accepting more epitaphs than odes.
The only generation which simultaneously relates to :
poems and proses,
highs and lows,
puns and quotes,
tricks and tragedies.
We're all adamant kids,
falling out of change.
We're all dead fishes,
conforming water.
- Aishwarya Kulkarni
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