The world,
A happy family,
seething love and anger,
Mother nature,
Never will forgive man,
For his transgressions.

Ice-gems of winter
Gleaming dew-drops on
leaves and fruits
Shimmering veils of the rising
sun
Wispy drifts of rose clouds
Lunar flames of Midnight's
moon
A sea to us
From man to ant
The entity of the Earth
For every form that it takes,
it's a page of countless
stories

Wrote this by just looking at my cup of water. Something we take for granted. Water is a blessing

flying free
from
feeling
there I watch you
fade into
the thickness of
forest pine and
fern

Smokey musk of mist-soaked moss
by roving river bank,
where dainty doe stands tall and fair
where long-lost love once sank.

Dew-soaked coat 'mungst moonlit woods
a chestnut, hazel brown.
She stalks the brooks, thin, lithe and cool
where once-loved life was drowned.

She walks his path from long ago,
her shadow echoing loss,
"goodbye," she whispers, "I'll miss you so"
as she fades into the moss.

I am writing on a plane:
An airbus A380 cruising
Through the emptied rooms of heaven
The place seems larger
Now there's no one living here

The clouds below are thick
And suddenly I wonder:
Why is it, every time I fly,
I cannot see the land below?
Yet when I look up from the ground
I often see the aeroplanes,
Travelling through an open sky,
Angels encased in corporate livery.

Now, in my seat by the window,
Staring down,
I see little specks of light -
Perturbations in my visual senses -
Errors of the mind -
Highlighted on the canvas of the air -
And then I fixate.

What if there is no land below?
What if every flight we take is a lie,
Some elaborate scheme dreamt up
By the secret masters of the world,
Who wish us to believe in powers
Not our own?

Maybe they catapult us
To some virtual place
A hologram of God's old house
Designed to remind us of our hopes
That humanity might have
Some universal potency,
Yet simultaneously showcase
The divine vacancy
Of all our dreams of paradise?

Then I realise how poor I am -
I always buy the cheapest flight:
Always early in the morning
Just at the end of the night...

Do clouds form like dew
In the darkness?
As the Earth spins,
Are it's hemispheres
Alternately cloaked in veils of white,
Like an eye that opens and closes
In both directions?

What I would give to witness that.

Written on a flight between Wroclaw and Stansted at 8.00 in the morning.

i love space.
i don't know all the constellations,
nor do i know all the moons
but i do know that
i love space.

you remind me of space.
but i know all the constellations,
the sun kissed freckles that dance along your cheeks,
and i know all the moons
the sparks that make your personality shine bright
i love space.

i love nature.
i don't know all the plants,
nor do i know how to tell what is poisonous,
but i do know that
i love nature.

you remind me of nature.
but i know all the plants,
which seeds to cherish to make your heart grow,
and i know what's poisonous,
i will not mention your family
i love nature.

i love you.
i do not know how to mend your broken heart,
nor do i know how to mend my own
but i do know that
i love you.

- i'm sorry it took me so long to say it

why can't I root for you from beneath the trees;
a bug like me doesn't deserve to be seen
by one like you.

Seema 15h

Lean not on to me
O' dear one
I am weary and old
All day in the sun

Standing, bearing
The heat and rain
Abused and vandalized
Pinned with pain

My branches shade
To one and all
Now too old to stand
I am ready to fall

No leaves, no greenery
Only dead branches stand
Birds just pass by
As I am stuck on this land

An woodcutter showed
No mercy today
Chopped off all branches
And took all my pieces away

Now I am just rooted
Like an ugly dying pole
Wishing for a great storm
To release my tortured soul...

┬ęsim

Respect the nature, respect our trees, if they ain't around, there will be no breeze. Don't just kick on a dying tree to make it fall...look carefully, it may just be alive like our grandparents.

in love, yes
with people, no

more inclined, i think
to fall for experiences

and animals and trees
and the taste of coffee in the morning

and the feel of accomplishment
after a long night spent writing

in love, i am
with maybe some people

no one personal,
two idols at most

in love, yes
with people, no

more inclined, i think
to fall for the sunset

and a relieving gust of breeze
on a humid day

and the art hung
on the walls of rustic cafes

in love, yes
with no one in particular

in love with life
even on days spent wishing for its end

a toxic sort of love, perhaps
perfectly suited for the likes of me

chemically imbalanced,
in brain and body

Summer fields
Awake and moving
Infinite.

My first attempt at haiku, though I chose the less-prolific 3-5-3 style.
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