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Àŧùl Feb 1
A Group-B Gazetted Officer,
Working in the shoes of an
Assistant Audit Officer,
Assigned to the Railways
At The Office of the Director General of Audit,
North Eastern Railway HQ,
Gorakhpur.

A former Probationary Officer,
Of an Assistant Manager-grade
With the State Bank of India,
Working in the Chandigarh circle
And posted in my hometown,
Now I miss my mother,
Really.

Before that I tried to get a PhD,
However, I quit it during COVID,
Because age doesn't wait,
Time isn't locked down,
And I had nothing to lose,
Only exams to crack,
And interviews to groove.

Lost love? What's that? A lonely dove?

I've my parents with me,
And I have my victories,
The stories of which I relive,
And these memories boost me,
The euphoria of Nostradamus,
It envelops me in totalus,
Never me, never free.

Even after they transcend to afterlife,
I'll have their teachings with me,
Well, that's a case if I live beyond them,
Because as of now, improbable it seems,
I'm unable to imagine a life without them,
We are trying our level best to look for a lady,
A humble lady who can teach me more,
And also learn something new from me.

Born on December 23, 1990,
In Karnal city of Haryana,
At the strike of 20:53 hours,
Grew up much loved albeit a bit lonely,
For my parents' child I'm the one and only,
I love writing original songs, poems, and novels too,
Now I look to co-author my next one with my wifey.
My HP Poem #2044
©Atul Kaushal
While passing by a great Gothic church,
I see sullen skies begin to glower:
a looming wicked curse
above the church corona’s tower.

With bruised blue clouds brewing black
in the bellowing wide heavens,
hearts pounding, all shrink slowly back:
Blazing bolts scream and threaten.

Here comes the gale force shrieking wraith!
Take shelter from the storm
in the stout fortresses of your faiths
built with those who keep you warm.

For though some tempests last
over rocky spans of fears,
all the maelstrom’s wrath must pass,
even if it lasts for years.

In these sturdy stones you’ve laid,
rebuild for the coming of new days.
Inspired by current events as well as by a photo I took of St. Giles’ Cathedral in Edinburgh last August: https://bsky.app/profile/jackgroundhog.bsky.social/post/3lgnrtak3gs2u
Tye Jan 10
There is a sweeping wind
Blowing over the hills,
From the tips of redwoods,
Down to the sage in the valley,
Looking to blow away the dust of today,
And bring in the ash of tomorrow.
Mimmi Dec 2024
For a second I had this thought
that I was more than what I’ve always believed
the propelling waves of feelings won't always connect to thinking patterns
they don't make sense, so I try to make sense with no building blocks

For what am I but a barring brook
a lifeless seed
a broken flair
following or trying to lead
will I just end up in despair

For what am I but a quenching thirst for the drenched
a feast for the satisfied
a cry for help from the saved
a missing piece for the finished puzzle

I feel out of place at the right time
So who am I?
For what am I?
Think I'm a bit lost in myself at the moment. So I wrote it out in a poem
Jolan Lade Dec 2024
You love me.
But do you love me.
Or do you love that I'm here?
Is love a permanent?
Or a temporary?
Is it a right now?
Or a loss if I leave?
Is it who ever is by your side?
Or is it a me when there is others?
Would you choose me at the loss of your freedom?
Or would you write me of as an expense of living?
nobody nowhere Dec 2024
Running towards your own death,
voluntarily.

It’s waking up with an immediate anxiety attack
over having to eat to survive.

Every bite denied is a victory over desire
and a demonstration of
self-control
in the most
out-of-control way.
Jack Groundhog Nov 2024
When the changes come
will winter winds still blow?
What world will we see
as quicksilver higher flows?
When this time is past
will songbirds still be heard?
Will parents still tell children
of the bees and the birds?
Will grandchildren know about
lightning bugs in the dark?
Will lovers still know what’s meant
by butterflies in their hearts?
May those gifts that we leave
for those who come hereafter
not become the close
of this book’s final chapter.
Cassandra Nov 2024
we are waking up every day
with so many things on our plate.
Even if the whole day feels empty,
our minds are heavy like lead.

We are leaving early to live our life
but we are always arriving late.
We are ******* the air in
but we our lungs aren't breathing.

We are searching everywhere, we are trying all the time,
but we don't know what we are wishing to find.
We are living every day
but no one is feeling alive.

We are fantasising every night
But we aren't sleeping.
We are wanting more everyday
But we are gaining nothing.
We are talking about living life
But we are burdened by everything that's  coming
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