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You're not lost, just because you didn't comb today
I see you here, yet your thoughts are drifting away ...
You rake the leaves, with your bare hands,
You try to see, where your future stands.

You're not lost,  just because you need a break,
I see you smile, while trying to hide your heartache
You collect the dirt, under your fingernails,
As you walk barefoot and cover your trails.

I still see you, underneath the falling leaves,
I hear your voice say "thank you"  and "please"
I see your true smile, glowing in your eyes,
You're the only reason, my soul survives.
 Aug 2023 Radhika Krishna
Mote
note to poetry. i don’t know how long i can exist
here
in my stubborn non existence. the weather hurts.
A world slowly woke from slumber
Stumbled through a sense of Deja Vu.
Free from sheets of sleep and dreams,
Borrowed stitches pay the seams
Of patchwork quilted promises,
Forgotten threads of make believe.
your best stuff will never be posted here
<>

goose, you crack me up,
your bests stuffs can never be posted,
the tender stroke away of a child’s tear,
the welcoming of a smile delightfully unexpected,
a first grade art project so successful
it is mounted forever on a
front door Hall of Fame

a good cry all your own,
in private sobbing,
mouth mourning the absence of
a kiss on the back of your neck
shivers with surprising waves of pleasure,
that announces you are more than noticed

if you can post these stuffs,
call me asap,
because that’s the sight
I wanna see & be,
when only the best stuff you got given,
given got,
becomes real



10:03am

4/11/19
Strange, isn't it?

The way we mourn those
Still living...
I miss you.
 Aug 2023 Radhika Krishna
Meera
you inhale tragedies
and exhale poetry
From where do you get your perseverance?
These halls seem somewhat hollow
A certain sense of sorrow
Now graces ancient stone.
Replacing familiar faces
With defaced family paintings
And cold ancestral bones.
Thrones thrown upon a pyre.
Fate becomes the folly
Tomorrow the unknown,
The brows of time are furrowed
Past spent, lost, or borrowed
Flowers forever bloom alone.
Rats, the last lords of ruin
Rule cruel shadows from the walls.
Twilight sighs at daylight's rise
All seems dark till darkness falls.
They will know my name
I say
They will know my name
I claim

They will know my name
It's only fair
They will know my name
A promise, a dare

They will know my name
To tell tall tales to the young
They will know my name
Blazing bright as the burning sun

They will know my name
Spoken, crying, in a rush
They will know my name
To scream into the hush

They will know my name
To whisper in the night
They will know my name
They will know my might

They will know my name
Across the star-born universe
They will know my name
In the smallest places on Earth

They will know my name
Further than the eye can see
They will know my name
They will know me

They will know my name
For better or for worse
They will know my name
A blessing, a prayer, a curse

They will know my name
Let it give them pause
They will know my name
It will be written next to yours
I've made it my mission to write regularly, and publish what I do write even if I'm not happy with it. I'm honestly better at fiction than poetry, however much a great deal of poetry is a kind of fiction, (prose?) but I'm trying to improve myself here as I enjoy it and it can only make me better. I hope you like this.
i believe in a gentle kind of love
all soft and soothing and
just right
when i am so terribly, irritatingly fragile
fingers running down my back while we lie
rib to rib, heart to heart
listening to the beat, and to the breath
and perhaps it is that, in this world of rough and tumble
of screaming and aching, to believe in a love kind and sweet is
a naivety but i find that
because of all this roaring outside our window, i much prefer
to think of that love sweet and kind
and us, tangled around each other, i think, yes

i find that i believe in a gentle sort of love
 Aug 2023 Radhika Krishna
Ayesha
Sombre heaven, you look just right in pink
Clothed and cloaked, silken limbs of ancient lore
Everything droops round the drape of your lace
My eyes stumbling lurking, running, returning

I will - I could take anything miniscule
Bare minimum, pitiful, pathetic, muggy
Bitter rain - but you refuse to yield, just like me
Is this why our touch fails so simply?
Because we're too similar for revolution?
Defeat has me nauseous, mildly in love

Sweet, sharp, a little painful, a little blue
You leave no scent when gliding by
10/08/2023
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