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Priyanshi Dass Apr 2020
Some days it feels like the world has twisted
Like the earth took a wrong rotation
Then it tried to fix it
but something didn't quite fit
There must be a crack somewhere
Where we all keep stumbling
One after another, day after day
Like a pile of dominoes
Welcome to the year 2020
20 dominoes that fell down
20 things that went wrong
Priyanshi Dass Jun 2017
My child, with gentle footsteps you walk
While cruelly ticks away the mocking clock
With a heavy heart, I hide behind the cloak of courage
My child you were once, now headed for marriage

Darling, I remember when I first held you in my arms
With naive pride, I promised I will protect you from all harms
O little angel of mine, there’s a part of me that wishes I could ask you to stay
And go back to the wonderful days, when marriage for you was a doll’s play

This boy you brought home, he asks me for your hand
Says I love her, sir, I hope you would understand
My sweetheart, I know you love him more than anything
But the desire to keep you close seems so beautifully tempting

The red sari suits you quite well, my dear
My little angel, you look so beautiful and pure
My darling child, much too young to depart
The home and love of this father’s poor heart

Standing here, with my eyes helplessly filled
Oh, how I wish I could have this moment stilled
I watch as with a pinch of red vermilion he marks you as his
And I smile as I watch your face glowing with pure bliss
Happy Father's Day
Priyanshi Dass Jun 2017
I've dreamt a little dream
Tucked it in, safe and snug
In that little corner of my mind
Resting, 'til it feels that tug

When my heart gives a call
As it sees my eyes begin to awaken
The dream will break its slumber
The cloak of past defeats, gladly forsaken

I stand, eager and willing
To embark proudly into the night
With confidence my armour
And my only friend, the moonlight

Shadows no longer scare me
As they follow me down the road
My doubts and insecurities left behind
No worries, I've finally broken the code

I wade through the darkness
To reach the other side
My nervous shakes' not a weakness
But a roar to the tide

I will swim through the tumultous waters
Of destiny and time
The stars will no longer write my fate
Let the clock chime
Priyanshi Dass Jun 2017
Some time since ink bled
On these lazy fingertips, poet
Clean hands; a disgrace!
Priyanshi Dass Jun 2015
Wait; don’t pull the sheets, just yet
Give me a moment to breathe, to let the last tear fall
A broken heart still lies on an unmade bed

Let the smoke clear of the red stained cigarette
It’s funny, how even in daylight, a whisper darkens all
Wait; don’t pull the sheets, just yet

What is love, if not an exciting game of roulette?
Time played its hand; better place a bet, fate now holds the ball
A broken heart still lies on an unmade bed

To be fair, it wasn’t all blood, tears and sweat
Who was the winner who was the loser? It was far too close to call
Wait; don’t pull the sheets, just yet

Tell me, would I be easy, to write off as a love lost; to forget
Or do you, like me, spend sleepless nights, for a late night phone call
A broken heart still lies on an unmade bed

Don’t close your eyes, there isn’t much to regret
I’m not ready yet, to release my breath; for the curtain call
Wait; don’t pull the sheets, just yet
A broken heart still lies on an unmade bed

-പ്രിയാന്ഷി ദാസ്‌
Priyanshi Dass May 2015
She is standing on the brink of sanity
looking for something to hold on
She is twenty-six years old, watching a world go by
and wondering whether she belonged

An artist’s child she is, playing with fire;
uncertain if the rug would be pulled from beneath her feet
or if it would just burn in magnificent flames
scratching into her eyes calling forth her tears

She is everyone and no one
She is an idea, a rumor, an imagination
and the last piece of a puzzle that no one tried to solve

She is the pain in pleasure and the pleasure in pain
She is the terrifying beauty of life

She is addiction with a veil of innocence
clinging on to her like a possessive lover

She is curiosity with wide beckoning eyes
She is sin, a devil’s temptation
with delicate grace as enchanting as a lost nymph

She is the woman lying in his bed cocooned in sheets
stained with her blood
with a red so bright that it threatens to claw his eyes out

She is poetry with lyrical verses of wild hair
matted with dirt and blood,
ends curling down the edge of his pillow

She is music with symphonies of chattering teeth
and rustling clothes against smooth ivory skin,
borne of a night as cold as the heart she accused him of bearing

She is forgiveness with serene smiles on lips
as soft as a butterfly’s wings and a small hand outstretched
to clasp his and paint it with red pigments of defeat and strength

She is death with haunting eyes the color of warm honey
that his mum used to feed him
on rainy afternoons he spent curled up in her lap

But he has never been so peaceful
in his entire pathetic existence,
For if death is as exquisite as her
then perhaps death was what he had been searching for all along

-പ്രിയാന്ഷി ദാസ്‌
14 October 2014
  Jul 2014 Priyanshi Dass
Sameer Denzi
Why do artists **** their arts?
Journalists obey corporate bosses.
Doctors peddle drugs for status.
Lawyers work for robber barons.
Bankers' havens for barons' taxes.
Kings start wars for hefty profits.

Charity's done for the sake of publicity.
Vanity today is a thriving industry.
Shopping's done with borrowed money.
Bankruptcy levels; not seen in history.
From hazardous things; profits aplenty.
Poisoned wells we leave our progeny.

These lunacies have a common cause,
To win 'the rat race'; at any **** rate,
Even earthly mother, we brutally ****!
How much is enough, to be content?
Pharaoh's wealth was greater than most,
But while he drowned, it saved him not.

Instead, strive for a righteous life,
Bonded to mother, free from desire.
For we're not islands, or rats in a race.
And when we stand on Judgement Day,
Our wealth that day will have no say,
Our deeds that day will lead the way.
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