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Star BG Oct 2017
In sea of moments I swim,
each stroke being a step.
Air tickles my senses,
as it explodes in lungs.
Eyes open like shutters camera,
seeing world in its beauty.

In sea of breaths I move,
each inhale merging with moment.
Sun sings with vibrations of light,
opening heart to echo.
Stars shine with flickering magistry
making wishes fly.

In a sea of moments and breath,
I am my own avatar,
AWAKE and GRATEFUL.
I inspired myself with my own quote of the day. Which was...
Today I choose to stand in day, celebrating my inner gifts to be my own inspiration and dance in sea of moments.
Shruti Gauba Jun 2017
Art
I knit all of my breaths together,
collect them and name them 'life'.
It helps me to wake up everyday
and not slit my wrists with a knife.
I survive and breathe and feel,
and it's hard but I keep on trying,
to fake a smile every now and then,
while on the inside I am dying.
But I learned that art is a good friend,
It stays along no matter the weather.
And maybe I have my art too;
I can be alive and dead - together.
Shruti Gauba May 2017
Loving a flower is playing with danger,
and you must know, danger never warns,
so when you pluck me because you love me,
you forget I'm embellished with thorns.

Because you don't pluck the one's you love,
rather, you keep them alive.
So I let my love become your breaths
that filled your lungs, so you'd survive

But even love swoons into revenge,
and your love too was a fatal deed,
so watch my petals as they all wither,
but remember; my leaves helped you to breathe.
And now I'll be the one who'll ****** the breaths.
Nayana Nair Feb 2017
The breaths not taken are accumulating.

It mixes with the tears not shed.

Creates a poison that lingers in my thought

but doesn’t flow into my blood.

To keep my barely alive to suffer.

Suffer from a poison of my own making.



Slowly I forget

one small detail at a time.

I realize it only when I see this gap in memory

that my frail imagination fails to fill.

Words are slipping out of my hands.

My thoughts are no longer mine.



All the parks have become graveyards.

Where tomorrow died a slow, slow death.

And it slips into an even slower decay.
We greet Selene,
As we walk, you and me,
Alone together under the light,
And I bid you,
A solemn
Slow
Goodnight.

No breath,
In my nose,
Breaths,
Held as one,
Anticipation of tender union,
None.

I greet you, full of misery,
For Apollo's first greeting was only to me,
Well, I know he greeted you too
But in total, of greetings, there were two

You aren't mine,
Nor am I thine,
And until that time,
tho first the sun may stop its shine,
I will always treasure,
Our bitter-sweet nights together,

Of no breaths,
In my nose,
Breaths,
Held as one,
As I wait,
To have Apollo's greetings to us be one.
Eleanor Rigby Oct 2016
between the breaths, the boredom, the blues, the *****
the smokes, the sacrifices, the smiles, the sadness, the snooze
the poems, the problems, the pros and the cons
the needles, the nobodies, the neurotics, the loose
the careless, the fearless, the dreamless, who knows
the tulip, the lilac, the jasmine, the rose
the suns, the moons, the earth, the birth
the nights, the fights, the lies arise
the loneliness
among the hate, the fate, the date delayed
the loneliness
along the tongue, a song, wrong, wrong
the loneliness
inside the heart, a part apart, from the start
the loneliness, the loneliness, the loneliness...

"and the crowd, so many people,
and the cries, the laughs, the whispers...
Too many mouths talking in my ear, my left ear
Is it the chaos of unphysical presences ?
But I touch them, I see them, I hear them...
And nobody is here" -- Myra


-- Watercolour
Listen to Things
More often than Beings
Hear the voice of fire
Hear the voice of water
Listen in the wind
To the sigh of the bush
This is the ancestors breathing
Those who are dead are not ever gone
They are in the darkness that grows lighter

And in the darkness that grows darker
The dead are not down in the earth
They are in the trembling of the trees
In the groaning of the woods
In the water that runs
In the water that sleeps
They are in the hut,
They are in the crowd

**The dead are not dead.
An excerpt by Birago Diop
which can be found in the African Philosophy Reader (Coetzee & Roux 2003: 723)
Austin Bauer Sep 2016
I rise and fall
As I float on her tides,
Which ebb and flow
From her inner shores.
I am intimate enough
With her seas
To wrestle with the breakers
When tempests rise,
Or to rest, as I do now,
Upon the peaceful waves
As they crash,
In calming measures,
On the white-sand beaches
Her tourists frequent.
Àŧùl Sep 2016
As the morning descends here,
The surroundings come alive,
Birds start chirping sweetly,
Insects play violin of the legs,
Not far away I hear the engine.

The morning makes glorious sounds,
It also brings me back to her memories,
The train I hear moving away so swiftly,
It's the same train I mounted years ago,
The train doesn't wait not for me now.

It chugs away to where I had been,
Almost two years ago to meet her,
On her birthday to feel her close,
To greet her so sweetly & hug her,
She even had kissed a sleeping me.

I wonder how she could just forget,
Sharing the moments so intimate,
Waking me up for an active kiss,
For I'll never forget & move on,
Breath talked in the breathtaking moment.
My HP Poem #1125
©Atul Kaushal
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