the razors were her best friends
the only source of control of the pain she endured.
her hair was falling out
her skin , pale as the snowy grounds of December.
no one ever cared
until they day she wore short sleeves and everyone got scared

my dream
is to marry you
and
my nightmare
is to miss you

I could feel you
right in my dream
I could feel you
right in my heart
Does that mean
I still love you?

You are
the one
for me
  And
I am
the one
for you

There must be an eternal fountain
Where the creative ink flows
A secluded hamlet where all Muse resides
A museum where all seer poets are featured
The laureates from earlier centuries
Adorning the walls of ‘Hall of Fame’
Their legacy passed on to next centuries
Some through narratives or written manuscripts
Omnipresent, to provide the guiding light
To pen the narratives, metaphors, onomatopoeia
The rhyme schemes- Ballade, Chant royal, Cinquain, Ottavia
But most important of all is the rhythm of the heart
And when the heart and soul coalesce, it creates literature
The rhyming schemes of our mind, heart and soul
Is what the composition of a passionate writing is**






© Amitav (Radiance)

A blank canvas, inspires a painter
A blank paper, inspires a poet
From a blank we can draw inspiration
They are not blank, but an empty space
Untouched with the creative juices
To be filled with different moods of hues
And written on, with the most fertile thought
From a blank, we can draw a conclusion
Inspired to come up with most enchanted sketches
As artistry is the masterstroke, drawn on a blank
An abstract idea sketched, to inspire*





© Amitav (Radiance)