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 Aug 2020 manya
Gunnika Mehra
Writing by the window,
As the sunlight fills my room.
Declaration of an undoubting love,
But these letters, for whom?

Writing by the window,
Staring at the moon.
Poetry on a dozen pages,
Revealing my truth.

Writing by the window,
Coffee keeping me alive.
A book in hand,
And imaginary friends beside.

Writing by the window,
Are my words true?
I will write,
Until I am not by the window anymore.
This poem is about writing by a window, where the window is a metaphor for the world and how i am writing ,while sitting next to the world, instead of being in it.



The last stanza which draws a close to the poem is the most important. It talks about fantasies and how they keep me going and questions the readers whether my writings are based on reality or not. The poem goes on to say that I will write till i am unable to see the world anymore or maybe when i die

For the letters of 'undoubting love' read
Oh great hero, childhood friend of mine and
A broken heart
 Aug 2020 manya
Gunnika Mehra
Some times life gives you lemons
Sour , which trouble your sensitive tongue
The sourness goes down the throat
And leaves it's imprint behind.

But what life also teaches us after every lemon
Is that you can always drive it away
Mix the sour with sweet
And it pleases the tongue that way.
So isn't it all about finding the right flavour
Something you can savour.

So next time life gives you lemons
Look for ingredients that will dilute it's pain
And then enjoy the lemon that way.
 Aug 2020 manya
Gunnika Mehra
Gone
 Aug 2020 manya
Gunnika Mehra
Tired and lonely,
Can't bear this heat.
Anger and impatience,
I accept defeat.
Tears and sorrow,
A glimpse of my pain.
Anguish and hatred,
Bow before my name.
I rise, oh I rise,
Well above the game.
You, not you,
No one can take away this pain.
When I sit alone,
In the company of my thoughts.
I feel lost.
Like the breeze,
Now here,now there, now gone.

— The End —