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 Jul 2015
South by Southwest
My world is not of the written word
It cannot be numbered
held captive on a so called page

My world is liquid
as sea , rain , snow or ice
It can be hot , cold , or entice

My world is cloudy
It thunders after it flashes light
My world is wrong , my world is right

There are no words that bind my life
I won't be delegated
to exist in the black on white

I will not be staved
by the limited sways
of the written words upon the page
 Jul 2015
Shivendra Om
...when jealousy delights
my wounds
—again
She uses the gentle edge
of the blade
—you
by Luca Shivendra Om
© Luca Shivendra Om
 Jun 2015
Àŧùl
Oh how calmly she sleeps,
Carefree she always seems,
Wish she gets sweet dreams.
So glorious is her face always,
I wish her all the happiness,
All in the hue of brightness,
None equals her cuteness.

Oh hope never she weeps,
Clarity she wears in deeps,
With time get the -ve wiped,
Such the cutest nature heaps,
I'll be her guardian forever,
At heart Atul is just a loner,
Not just now - but forever.

Only by respecting my love for her,
A clear old identity is rediscovered,
I'm known as Atul Kaushal for a cause,
Singing hymns to my magical love,
Ignoring all those distractions,
And I am happy being with her,
Nirvana comes just for us.
My HP Poem #870
©Atul Kaushal
 Jun 2015
Àŧùl
Blessed with an unusual power I am.
Once I am friends with people,
I can read their thoughts about me.

In the words they say & how they react,
I often find myself skimming my friendlist as they think lowly of me.

(-: But I think I got this power luckily because I read her mind. :-)
My HP Poem #328
©Atul Kaushal
 Jun 2015
Àŧùl
Hindi in Devnagri script:

वो सुबह के सूर्य का प्रकाश,
प्रज्वलित करता है तुम्हारी ये कांति.
तुम्हें देख कर ही होती मेरी भोर है,
तुमसे मिल कर मेरा रोम-रोम विभोर है.


Transliterated to Latin script:

Wo subah ke soorya ka prakaash,
Prajwalit karta hai tumhaari ye kaanti.
Tumhe dekh kar hi hoti meri bhor hai,
Tumse mil kar mera rom-rom vibhor hai.


Translated to English:

That morning sunlight,
Enlightens your radiant face.
Seeing you my morning happens,
Please know it that meeting you I have gotten goosebumps.
My HP Poem #875
©Atul Kaushal
It's a small bed we share
barely enough for the two
but big enough for the pair
to see the years sail through.

The wood now creaks with age
shrunk thin the old mattress
weighed down with passing days
buoyed up with embrace.

The pillows are thick with stains
of tears that flowed all the while
from rivers of joys shared pains
upon travel of the long trying miles.

Loyally it carries us along
our bed of priceless worth
could mere wood be that strong
if not bonded with warmth!
 Apr 2015
Àŧùl
From you starts my day,
In you I see my day end.

From you starts my heart beating,
In you it stays alive after my death.

From you starts my true love,
In you it will stay immortalized.
My HP Poem #844
©Atul Kaushal
 Apr 2015
Angelina
He was not cold and callous,
But warm, quiet, and kind.
His breath smelled of lilies and he kissed me softly,
Until I fell asleep in his capable arms.
You may ask what it felt like to be touched by death,
But it was I who reached out, grasped his hand, and willed him to take me away.
Instead he smiled, kissed my forehead, and promised he'd return for me.
 Apr 2015
Kody dibble
Insignia,
The other children,
Half spent on vinyl lies,
And cherished forgers,

Chunk, all the seamlessly,
Rudimentary stigmas,
Hollow and dismal,

Searching oceans of nothing but,
Something all together
Gob: alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman: but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his soul, Alice or dead?

The Merchant of Venice
 Apr 2015
leigh walker
Sometimes it's nice
to let your toes
sink into the mud
beneath you
Watch the dimly
lit sky above you
permeated by clouds
Just like your mind
clouded by deep
thoughts of
Wanderlust.
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