Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I read poems in the dark,
Managing to make sense of the work.

She brought a lantern
And illuminated the words,
Bringing me
To a new light.
from 'The Traveller: Part I'
My Lady:


Oh, can you dance, can you dance strong
until everything below turns into pure gold?
And do you see this precious sunrise as a gift to all of us?
         Do you number the sound of the whistles in the wind?
     For I have a year more to love, to breathe, to see life with you.

My dear, my dear do you see that everything
is filled with new power and new strength?
Would you hold onto my voice
like I hold your hand and feel forgiven?
Before every desire falls from my lips,
do you know how to run free?
 For I have the melody of life & second chances
engraved into my hands.

Can you hope - against the teeth of wolves
that encircle our own feelings?
 Will you fall upon your knees when heaven forgets your voice?
So when you lose hope and strength,
you will find me again and again.
For I found the power that destroyed
death so that you can see everything new.

Do you know how to love,
like the endless numbered stars?
Will you write His promises in your heart
so that you can always hold on?
               So when nothing makes sense and
            all desires fades, we will rest in adoration.
For everyday the angels are taught
 how to describe His great love for us.

So behind the winter rains and winter season,
we can dance into the sunlight time after time.
Until the moonlight falls by
        will you sing with me until we touch the sky?
Th  lost l tt r
Cam  to m
V ry far in th  futur
Missing th  targ t dat  by mil s

It r ad of lov
A lov w  had miss d
Sw pt away, gon
In th s achang of y ars
I don't know if I love her.
She is absent and unaware.
I have partially opened my heart.
Do I love something not even there?

I know that I love her.
She is present but unaware.
A keyhole divides where my heart is concerned.
I am in love and the world looks fair.

I know that I love her.
She is present and is somewhat aware.
Chances are my luck will turn better.
Does she know that I am someone who cares?

I know that I love her.
She is aware but makes no move.
Is my love creaking softly that she is unmindful?
Are there truths that I still have yet to prove?

I question myself if I still love her.
She remains heedless of what she knows.
I am knocking at the other side of a bolted door.
I will walk the path where only time flows.

My heart now knows what my brain knew first.
She is now gone and free from a passing rumor.
I still stand upon where I was to give my heart.
If only she had turned that second **** better.
Ever heard the song 'Love is an open door'? If you watched 'Frozen' then you probably would. This poem was pretty much similar to that. Though I wrote this way before 'Frozen' even aired, I still feel amazed of the resemblance.
Love can sometimes be like a door. Even when a door is closed, beyond that we can still hear whats going on behind it, meaning, we can still have a connection to what's behind a closed door. Love can be invisible, but still present all together. It can come slowly in the form of a crush. A small attraction can then lead to a greater emotion until we realize that were already in love. But a door can shut back the same way they can be opened up. And wind-winds of fate-can as easily close them again once they are opened. But there isn't only one door that exists in our world. Many others could appear in the most unexpected corners within the residence of our lives. We just have to be patient and take the time to look for them.
Opening and closing doors is normal. Doors with locks though, can take a little more effort.
My head falls deep into
Her shoulders, gently,
As she would not need to nudge.

My Arm finds its place around her back,
Stalking in good terms,
I lean and feel receptive touch.

I feel as though
My approach was out of place.
My hand throttles back, firmly, But in fluid grace.
I put it out in winter soft,
That she might not resort to sob.
I prepare to leave my seat as if told,
Remarking her that it was out of love
Do you remember that cliche scene in movies when a guy asks a girl to watch a movie, and when they sit together, the camera focuses on the guy as he attempts to make "the first move" and puts his arm around the back of the girl's seat...and he fails
-this is pretty much what the poem's all about
 Jul 2016 Krithi Panday
GaryFairy
i am crying out loud
it falls on deaf ears
my pain is avowed
but only death hears

air is just a cloud
which my breath fears
my end is my shroud
created by less cares

this agony is endowed
tested by my best years
only silence is allowed
where only death hears

(A big thank you to all the ones who have ever read my words)
I am not suicidal at all. I believe we all have these feelings, and I just try to articulate them into poems.
 Jul 2016 Krithi Panday
Aditi
The sorrow is yours,
As much as it's mine,
Your heart has rights to its tears,
The same way mine cries.

The treasured moments,
Are tucked,
In the curve of my lips,
Just the way they, sometimes, creep to your cheeks,
And make you blush.

The nostalgia, the sweet pang behind them,
Can be read in your eyes,
Just as obviously as they show in mine.

The sorrow is yours,
As much as it's mine,
Your heart has rights to its tears,
The way mine cries.

Don't bother drawing lines,
We are bound to cross,
My heart is crazy,
Just as bad as yours.

The rumors that transcend,
Like wildfire in dry woods,
My contribution to these stories,
Are as much as yours.

Give words to these memories,
A tune to these words,
The old tune that you'll hum,
Will belong to me, as much as it belongs to you.

My verses,
And your prose,
Tell the same tale,
Of same loss.

This sorrow is yours,
As much as it's mine.
When a relationship ends, both sides are hurt, it is not like only one of them has the right to be hurting...and it is something we forget. We think we are alone in our pain, and that makes us sadder. Tbh I don't really think it is easy being friends with someone you were romantically involved with...but I do believe that one should let go of grudges cause after all, their part in your story was as much as yours.
 Jul 2016 Krithi Panday
Aditi
We are different,
with different people.

With some, I talk in prose,
about sunsets and a world,
bigger than the one,
that I'm part of.

with some, I talk
about stilettos and matching shades,
always planning
a new escapade,
less thinking, more talk.

With some, I sit in silence
Speak only when I have something to say,
reveling in the prolonged silence

With some, I'm witty,
with some, I rap,
with some, I'm deep
With some, I act dense.

Which one of them is me?
Are these the masks that I wear?

Who am I?
and why around you,
I'm not any one of them?
sometimes i want
to sing along
to a new song

i want
opposites, and new tricks
something more than this

i want new
and beautifully charged,
a zeal for life that's been unmarred

i want change.
i feel trapped, and i am bored of these tiresome cycles
Next page