Soar above your pains by coddling them.
Rise above your wounds by embracing them,
Ascend above your sorrows by accepting them.
Intertwine them, hold tight to the emotional charge.
Convert them to positive energy.
Make them a part of your prayer temple.
Your wound is the place,
Where your flowers will blossom,
With a rainbow of spring colors.
Your pain is the place,
Where your cure will emerge,
with the birth of new dawn and renewed purpose.
Your sorrow is the place,
Where your joy will bud,
With a life full of hope and optimism.
I entered to the fear room
With a bunch of sadness
Full of hate buds
You put the bunch
Into the passion treasure
Wishing to bloom each bud
As a compassion flower
She bathes in the sun’s blazing rays,
still confused of what she is
She glides passionately as the moon goddess guides her shadow
She is intense, powerful, and radiant as the sun, yet playful, delicate, and precious as the moon
She adores her sun as it makes her ready to face her exciting days
Yet she worships her moon as it makes her strong to battle her cold, lonesome, and lengthy nights
She is soft yet she has strength,
she’s fragile yet she’s tough
Her sun is her compass but her moon is her light
She has her sun, she has her moon
She then remembers, she is a bud ready to bloom
No, No, No,
I don't know
what will happen
But, Look, Look, Look,
I am happy today
This wait is sweet,
My beloved is sweet,
A delicate bud is she,
An apple of my eyes, is she!
I write a poem for her,
A kiss would be better,
Sing this song of mine,
She is about to come,
it is already nine!
© Manan sheel.
We've grown together, no doubt
We hang out in the clouds and clouds roll out
I hold her close as she ignites my passions and dreams
She takes me from all the drama it seems
Some may criticise but don't realize
We're made for each other
you can see it in the eyes
A sparrow, tweets.
A still creature somewhere in a yellow vacant, tweets.
An open-hearted orphan, tweets.
Gloomy buds! They want to be flowers.
Blood drifts through the head and whiplashes me for your affection.
Emotionally choked by a memento-to-be makes me a burnt wood.
Beheaded bodies collapsing;
Time floods the corpses;
****** heads stick everywhere, as memories do.
A dagger stabbed in flesh tears it away;
Dripping blood, trumbling tissue;
The progeny are all already slaughtered.
A face is sprinkled by a loved one redish gore, autopsying the memories.
Unjust? Carnivore brutality?
Celebrate the night when sun shines;
Hear out the thunderous waterfall noise;
Roll over on green to reach the orange warmth.