Neha Chaudhary

Neha Chaudhary Dec 2015

Our love flows in the moon,
Entangled in its craters and mountains,
serene, pure with soft whisperings.
My soliciting heart seeks you.

And you make it drink the elixir of love.
Far away the ocean sounds and resounds,
Like the echoes of your name in my heart.
I love you and now I write on my heart.

I end each sentence with your breaths,
A perpetual poem, it is indeed.
Come here and I'll love you till the end of time,
We will be drowsy and drunk on passion.

You are the one who can make this day sublime,
So will you please be mine?

© Neha Chaudhary, 3 months ago

Neha Chaudhary Dec 2015

Drops of Jupiter

Memories drift me away to
The yonder fun filled days.
And this letter makes me recall
The Milky Way, I visited last month.
There are drops of Jupiter in my hair.

Will you pick them for me?

Neha Chaudhary Dec 2015

Roughshod waves

Is it for the victims that I weep,
Or for the caged birds in hell,
Or for the miserable plight of children,
Or to the callousness of statesmen?

Vicious circles call for exploitation,
And slump us in the quicksand
Of avarice and heinousness.
And the spring gets lost in gelid sighs.

Human is indeed an animal.

Neha Chaudhary Nov 2015

Sangfroid Eyes

When I look in her eyes,
I see waves rising and falling.
They make me think of wide open skies
that are even out of my dreams.
Crystal shines with shimmers of sun,
Spikes hurt the pacific edges,
And the black hole absorbs everything.
These sangfroid eyes are beautiful.

Maybe eyes are the best creation of God.
They reflect me, and they reflect her.
Like an éclair without the cream filling,
things are stuck in her eyes.
And these things can't proclaim their pain.
Yes, she is afraid of breaking down.
And that is why words cease to exist before these sangfroid eyes.

#nature #beauty

Nov 2015

Chris

Time Disappears

~

Time disappears,
the hours, the days
Lost in the shadows,
a sundial haze

Seizing the moments
our memories trace
Drawing the curtain,
these thoughts to erase

Still I ignore
every clock on the wall
Each ticking second,
the minutes that fall

For all I see
is the beautiful view
Of every new day
I am starting with you

~

Nov 2015

Oscar Wilde

Madonna Mia

A lily-girl, not made for this world’s pain,
With brown, soft hair close braided by her ears,
And longing eyes half veiled by slumberous tears
Like bluest water seen through mists of rain:
Pale cheeks whereon no love hath left its stain,
Red underlip drawn in for fear of love,
And white throat, whiter than the silvered dove,
Through whose wan marble creeps one purple vein.
Yet, though my lips shall praise her without cease,
Even to kiss her feet I am not bold,
Being o’ershadowed by the wings of awe,
Like Dante, when he stood with Beatrice
Beneath the flaming Lion’s breast, and saw
The seventh Crystal, and the Stair of Gold.