#myriad
Kohl black night
forehead is so full.
Countless myriad
stars eye on every angle.
Who knows how many more
look for one more black nook?
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 10:18 PM UTC
she wrote a myriad of poetry
like blood from the wounds
pouring down onto a deep, mystical art
she wrote a myriad of poetry
like she kept her soul in tune
with a thousand words and unfathomed thoughts
she wrote a myriad of poetry
like they were all for the moon;
a midnight composition that often ends in three dots
she wrote a myriad of poetry
like a seamstress who tries to have her heart sewn
from all the inevitable loss and endings that tore her apart.
nonetheless, with tired eyes and hands,
the poet writes, hoping someone would understand.
IA
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 3:10 PM UTC
night and day— a unison
in serene dawn,
entwined in hope,
lust, fun.
then flecks and flashes of flesh
and light snare souls
with optimism
and choke with reality.
until night and day, crossed
at the harshest bit of twilight,
are dead.
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 10:15 AM UTC
A force desired by many, acquired by some.
A drug so powerful it makes a mind numb.
A lack of it makes a man sore,
A myriad of it makes a man seek more.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 10:11 PM UTC
The rain falls from the sky.
The endless sky pelts the cityscape with endless rain.
The rain feels soft to the touch,
a light breeze overtakes me soon after.
It's raining more now, although it isn't heavier.
The light breeze makes me think.
It soothes my nerves.
Look at the rain.
It never had any problems,
finding a job, finding friends,
finding love.
It's purpose is to fall
and get evaportated.
It's friends are beside it
and never leave.
It's love ls likely close by,
atleast I hope it is.
I don't want this innocent drop,
this cold peice in a myriad of rain,
to feel the harsh truth of reality.
And I don't want myself,
a shivering person in a myriad of rain,
to feel chilly any longer.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 10:53 PM UTC
What am I?
A mere butterfly in the summer fly of your
beauty?
Why am I
here,
coloured by the summer sky of your
grace?
Here I am to face
the nurture and the chase
of a diamond dragon's pace.
The searcher and my crystal
percher.
Where am I?
I'm gliding by the land to overhead.
By the starry riverbed, and time goes ahead,
as I taste the words
I never said...
I see flower heads of lover's lies
that suffer by the frontal eye
of azure skies, who's flustered by
the boats ahead.
Who rode ahead the ocean bed
of love and lust.
My flesh is a myriad of coloured dyes.
And when I wonder
why,
I am discovered by...
What?
Truth.
And pain.
I must be going insane...
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
zero in on that second when gravity
takes a small dive into the contrast
that is nothing.
you are left comparing what your
senses still reveal to the soft blanketed
blankness of no-thing at all.
an absence only apparent because
it has been
defined.
the numbered becomes numberless
when there's nothing
to
count.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 6:37 PM UTC
It's only a broken mirror
that shows a perfect reflection
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC