Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
5d · 33
love.
love was unknown to me,
like the girl who saw
the same piece of jewelry everyday,
as she passed the same crossroad for home
but never felt it on her skin.
for it's too costly than the mint paper
and too cheap for an open heart.
Jun 5 · 947
...
...
let the haters die
and the ******* rot.
it's how
humans die,
when
humanity is
out of order.
May 26 · 20
amazingly amazing.
From running across the road
and stopping by the pavement.

To pulling down the window
and peeking on the road.

You do amazing things...

Like the bus you caught
this evening to get back home
May 23 · 87
i'm waiting.
don't go
stay,
stay,
and
stay.

even
if
you
go
away
today,
i'll
follow
yo­u
until
my
sole's
run
sore.

i
tried
to
run
after
you
but
lost
you.

where
are
you?
i'm
delusive
now.

come
back...

i
haven't
imagined
anything
without
you.

nothing
makes
sense
without
you.

So,
ple­ase
come
back.

i'm
still
here
but
won't
be long.

An
old
acquaintance
of
mine
came
to
meet
me;
he
has
no
face,
no
voice,
yet
troubles
me.

he
can't
talk
but
makes
me
feel
the
pain.

pain
of
letting go,
pain
of
not
seeing
you
again.

don't
worry
he
is
shy;
won't
hurt
you,
won't
indulge
you.

but
i
think
you
might
like
him;
he
is
like
you.

he
keeps
me
alive
and
you
don't
let
me
live.

don't
worry
he
likes
strangers
but
you
are
none.

so,
please
come
back...

i'm
waiting.
May 12 · 48
ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔ
neither life
nor the way of living it is easy.
neither to love
nor to be loved is cozy
it is the glimpses of the story
highlights of the moment
that make what it seizes to be.
May 11 · 40
perfect_imperfections
Sometimes
The Imperfections
Are so perfect that
They are visible
Without any effort
May 8 · 757
nostalgia.
from

big brain
with
small thoughts.

to

narrow pages
with
wicked lines.

I grew up.
May 6 · 534
ཀ ʖ̯ ཀ
what i wanted was rejected
and what i did was reflected.

what i felt was pseudo
and what i said was ambiguous.

 what i saw was deceptive
and what i loved was manipulative.
May 1 · 31
fuck them all.
be dope.
**** them all.
be unique.
**** them all.
be creative.
**** them all.
be yourself.
**** them all.

now,
**** them.
cause they ****** your mind.
**** them.
cause they made you ride insane within.

but stand for them once in a while.
all this **** and all the *****,
made you you what you are today.
Apr 30 · 47
everything changed.
saw the sky after a long time
it changed you know
every moment i looked away
it changed.

it changed.
everything changed.
the sun disappeared.
the cloud drove fast.
rain poured.
moon shined.
stars hid.
and everyday
everything changed.
Apr 19 · 120
stumbled.
i stumbled with grace,
i stumbled with desire,
i stumbled with pride,
i stumbled with fervour.

covetous
for love,
furlough
for hatred.

happened it all,
happened it then,
when all the love for you
was seeming unreal.
Apr 16 · 46
the morning
the heart aches
and the mind echoes.

it's 3 in the morning
and the road is still mourning.

and the day are dead
and the night finds its way.

it's 3 in the morning
and the road is still mourning.

the beans are old
and the coffee still cold.

the wind hushing down the alrein
and the anguish staying behind.

it's 3 in the morning
and the road is still mourning.
Apr 11 · 68
blood red
Blood red.
it's captivating,
isn't it.

when it drools down the skin
clots it's path
and flushes the flirty cheeks.

when it spils out of the territorial body,
leaving a mark and
attracting attention.

blood red.
it's captivating,
isn't it.

when it can save a life,
where it could cost a life.

when the absence of it's occassional spill can mark a new life
whereas it's unnatural flow can take away an unseen life.

blood red.
it's captivating,
isn't it.
Apr 5 · 73
Time's up
dates changed,
months rotated,
and the years showed their back upon us.

it's been three years now,
since we met.

and yet again i find you there in
the same old hidden parking slot.
where the darkness ruled and light submerged.
Apr 4 · 380
feelings
feelings.

everytime this cliché word is said,
it hits hard with a new meaning .

now,
the word no more
remains cliché.
Apr 1 · 38
Fresh New Page
exams postponed.
books left in dust.
Opened a blank page,
wrote something,
scribbled it down.
lit a cigarette
crushed it down.
and,
watched the sky
as the sun went down.

It's midnight now.
Took a turn to a fresh new page,
wrote something,
scribbled it again.
Lit a cigarette
crushed it again.
and,
watched the sky
as the night shattered.

The writer slept for a while
as the dreamer was awake.

It's noon now,
the writer woke up...

Taking a sip of his coffee
he saw the scribbled pages
and smiled
as he turned
to a fresh new page again.
Mar 27 · 39
talk.
talk.
just talk.

because you don't want to.
because you will need to.
.
.
talk.
but listen first.
..
listen to those words,
which you left unheard once.
..
listen to those words
which you despised once.
.
.
because,
without listening,
you won't be able to talk.
..
and those wounds are too deep
to heal without talking...
.
.
so,
talk.
just talk.
because,
band-aid is not going to
heal a bullet holes.
sequel to listen
Mar 26 · 52
listen.
listen.
because you can.
listen.
because you don't want to.
listen.
because in another time you couldn't.
listen.
because when you want to you wouldn't.

so,
listen.
give it an ear.
leave it unheard,
if you wish to...
..
but,
listen...
.
.
b'coz next time
when we talk...
we will need to
listen.
Mar 25 · 453
resemblance.
resemblance.
a fickle word it is.
.
.
brings you joy.
brings you faith.
brings you reason.
..
to live.
to laugh.
to be happy.
.
.
resemblance.
a fickle word it is.
.
.
brings you honour.
brings you pride.
brings you rejection.
..
to resent.
to be proud.
to despise.
.
.
resemblance.
what a fickle word it is...
Mar 24 · 1.7k
touch.
touch.
because you can.
touch.
because you want to.
touch.
because it's the only rememberance you have.
touch.
because in another life you won't.
touch.
because in another time you wouldn't.
touch.
but don't touch this time.
it's the touch that melts you down.
mends your soul.
so,
touch.
not her but him also.
touch.
but to make her safe not hound her.
it's the touch,
or the essence of touch
that melts her down.
it's the touch,
and the essence of touch
that brings her back.

touch.
but don't touch.

so,
touch.
because it is the most sensual art
that ever existed.
People ask me what do I write about?
Sometimes after reading my poems they give an awkward silence as if they’ve read something bad.
And again everything boils down to the obvious question that they’ll ever have …
“What do you write about ???”
If I say that they are about my feelings, they’re love poems,
The only question that flies out of the crowd is that :
“Who broke your heart?”
“Whom do you write about?”
“Whom do you write for?”
This was and still is the only question to which I didn’t had neither I have any immediate answer,
because no one broke my heart, neither they ripped me apart…
They just moved away from me like the wind which I just started liking…
So,
Poetry has it’s own form of heart  break.
It indulges you and keeps you away,
It binds you back yet makes you fall apart.
Poetry does not happen when only your heart is broken…
It happens when you start questioning  yourself ,
when you start doubting  the relationship you just had,
or when you over-think to an ideal situation,
Ideal situation of an ideal love, not knowing that
Love is like the flames of a borne fire…,
Never the same but sometimes diminished.

Sometimes those people write the best kind of love poems who
have had no relationships at all.
But that doesn’t mean that they haven’t experienced love or their heart hasn’t been broken.
There are a million professions in this world and so
Are the reasons to have a broken heart.

Love poems aren’t about the feeling of love,
They are ones perspective about love.
Love poems aren’t a side effect of separation…
They are an aftershock of over-thinking.
So,
over-thinking leads to huge drafts like these which tends to be meaningless with time
and never hold back the same value they had to the writer when they were written,
just like this write-up you’ve just read
or the democracy in which you live …
An answer to all the questions asked which were left unanswered
Mar 9 · 69
marriage_story
To the nights they lived,
And the days they saved;
He raised a toast at their wedding day.
...
For he who enjoyed the toast
Left her in second thought
After breaking their promise
on the first day
of their
    marriage…
For all the time that did rust away
And
All the light that did fade away.

The house hath sheltered the moths and dust …
Adored the relics and the wall

The man who set the paper and the mechanical typewriter
Scribbled ‘1st Try’ on the paper
and passed away …
There was a picture that i came across lately. It was an old mansion with a type-writer which was layered with dust and had a page inserted in it as if someone was about to type something and there was a picture of a man beside the typewriter.
this rally worked enough for me to pen this verse
Feb 6 · 54
(๑◕︵◕๑)
At 17th year of life there’s one point
In everyone’s life when you feel lost …
Somewhat insecure and mature,
So this was the point of my life…

Completely lost…
In what I’m doing,
And what I want to do…

I wasn’t raised religious …
And yesterday I tried to pray …
But I didn’t know what to say…
The feeling of oblivion is right into me
Even when people around me keep saying
That they will remember me for their life…
Jan 5 · 39
birthday_
The first text conversations wasn’t so exciting and
Late night wishes aren’t so boring

Only gift that I can give u is
a small little piece of writing...

I don’t know what should I write to make u
Not want to throw this away...
But over this distance
I can sing u off key notes ,
Write u things,
And if literature doesn’t bores you
Then we can talk about our favourite authors…
But for now just talk to me …
..
..
..
HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!!
It’s your birthday today …
and I could give u this much…
but don’t worry next time
there will b that much which will be compared to this much
and that that much won’t be this much…
Nov 2019 · 103
Dolce
Himangshu Singh Nov 2019
A mother's melody is never known
and a father's note is never matched.
It is a song that is
pitched with happiness
&
tuned with forgiveness...
Nov 2019 · 68
Beal
Himangshu Singh Nov 2019
I don't know what it is...
Maybe the month that follows
Or the unsent texts in my phone.
Maybe the silver lining of your dress
Or the glamorous heels of your shoes.
I really have no clue of what it is...
The feeling of jealously
Or the pain of betrayal.
Nov 2019 · 31
Epoch
Himangshu Singh Nov 2019
Against the ravages of time
Was built the majesty of wine...

— The End —