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there's a chair
left in the corner
nobody touches
nobody dares to sit

rumors spreading
it belonged to her
her! that's her chair
the teacher's chair

-glzl
Where are you, O gentle one
of whom I’ve dreamt a million times
Where are you, O mountain of love
for whom my heart promptly climbs

Where are you, O beautiful soul
without whom I feel nothing anymore
Where are, oh… those ocean eyes
that made me wonder if my reality was a reality or just a lie

Where is that place where we first met
and which house was that where we kissed for eternity and then slept
Where are those arms that once engulfed me with life
filled me up with endless hope and made me wish for a wife

Where is the face that always smiled
and those lips that forever shined
Where is the lap that I found comfier than a zillion pillows
and those long hairs with such mystical billows

I often find myself asking these questions now, but it’s too late
I regrettably wish I wouldn’t have been so naive
to have believed you’d still be there after we slept
Only to wake up and realise my world had left.
© Avinash Kumar. All rights reserved.

This is my third attempt at poetry. Hope you like. As always, I'd love to get your feedback if they can help me write better poems in the future.

Thank you!

First written and made public on 22nd Oct, 2015
As my fingers punches each letter
And vandalize the blank wall
Purging what's inside, at most all bitter
The lonely journey of the bliss less soul

Why? Of all emotions
At most I choose the time of my pain
To evaporated into the clouds
And turns the season into rain

I am looking for that colorful sign of hope
But sometimes I'm getting tired
Living my life on this endless loop
Misery always transpired

But why those blind aren't quitting life's game
Hopeful and thankful to the mighty Lord
By then my eyes shattered some tiny white grains
That touches the face of my keyboard


10/6/2015
Mysterious Aries
Words threaded are no better than dirt
If no one could feel the emotion of joy and hurt
If human heart metamorph into stones
How could a sparkling poem will hit home?

Seems poet dwell beneath the surface of the ground
Watering each other plants, praising each other sound
With instinct to prevent extinction, in order to continue to roam
But if we are on the underground, how could we hit home?

Doing both selfish and selfless acts
Photographer of fictions and facts
Every detail of life during white and gray
Hopefully, the images we captured will hit home someday

10/16/2015

Mysterious Aries
I needed some time, before I go outside my shell
Seems I've made a crime, the world to me always yell
I have no more dime and have nothing left to sell
Visited by anti sublime, as if  I am under their spell

Not at my prime, looks like near to my final bell
Cannot make another chime, but I'm not ready yet for hell
Seems I've lost my rhyme, so by now no more poetry to tell
Because I needed to buy some time, again before I go outside my shell


written: November 11, 2014
Those days... When the world become villain to our passion...
No other choice but to take a break...

Mysterious Aries
somewhere among the oaks and pines
i search, trying to find a sign
with the sight of the climbing vines
i am defined by nature's lines

the water shines my peace of mind
beside the brook, where ivy entwines
i find brightness, no longer blind
in the guiding light of God's designs
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
  Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
...
Sky of Orange Soft Pastel,
A fire that burnt
A misty-eyed.

Fiery sunset
Yet gentle color hush
Warmth a cold dying soul.

Suddenly sway in rush,
Grey cloud storm
Overruled.

Orange soft pastel burning
Died.. along with the
Cold dying soul.

...
I've seen how
Moments do shift
.
.
Like feelings,
Like Love.
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