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Shofi Ahmed Nov 2017
Sometimes the day smiles
shows me its colour.
No, then the blue harbour
doesn’t look to be far
I feel like I got the wings to fly.

But who would sway away
when the rose under the nose
floating on a sea of colour?

The luminary punter too
drops down from the sky.
Paints the broad daylight
as it sails down on its way.

Ah, the southern breeze
bends with the rose of the day
before my eyes.
I see my hands are tied
without my butterfly.
writerReader Feb 2015
I wish you would trust me
and I could walk
breathe without dying

I wish I could fly.
You feel depressed and lost
For all the pain and the cost.
Your efforts have gone in vain,
You are struggling to stay sane.

It is so hard to remain in the light
When you have already lost the fight.
You are watching the curtains closing,
While the world is sleeping.

Your life has been a bumpy ride
Always changing with tide.
And as the sequence continues,
You are scared that you will lose.

Yet, here you stand with the will to try.
Yet, here you stand prepared to fly.

Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
Just another one from my lab. So, far it has been just easy lyrics from me and this one is no different. I am trying to keep my poems very simple and humble. I really hope that you are enjoying them.
Hirondelle Aug 11
Promise-born on a canvas stroked with dun,
Looks a man for hues, hence shadows to shun.
Hidden's a day's dye backwoods a child's eye.
Only some walk nigh where true wonders lie.

Tints turn from raven birth to dovy death.
Far cry colors bout in a vision's breath.
'Tis in mind's eye to espy woe from blue
When giant ants move beady mountains of rue.

Pick all vibrant hues, eschew the tethered.
Dyes of default-assent beget hatred.
Thoughts and sentiments behind barred casements
Bide dawn's brightest in gold shod regiments.

When sentinels descry where bluebirds fly.
Merriness is nigh as blue will not cry.
We live in a world conceived almost differently by each one of us, which is wondrous. While a man would be bored to death, some other -right in the same setting- would be carried away in a rush of sentiments by what wonders they believe that they see in exactly the same setting. I'm not questioning what makes what we see real. It's only what it boils down to: how perspectives or colors gratify our lives.

Like whether it is the egg or the chicken first, it's a conundrum whether sentiments breed thoughts or thoughts bring out sentiments. I'm more on the latter side, though. The poem maintains a man has to find the true colors himself. Falling in step with others and adopting default values and thoughts will only bar him into a dark chamber. To an extent though, this message echoes Plato's Allegory of the Cave.

Given the rampant demands of the competitive mass production industry from the mere individual, such as the imposed customer identity on him, exposure to education aiming goals aligned with the industrial objectives of a country but not with those that exalt individual identity, exposure to the commonness of cheap bloodshed in the Middle East and the sinister engineering of almost calloused indifference to it almost worldwide or the ambition for power in a big city to the cost of forgetting the child inside, I feel that our rainbow is changing into Bifrost, the bridge where Nordic gods of Asgard are waiting for frost giants start their assault and bring complete ruin to the world: Ragnarok.

The bottom line is where true identity is, there is meaning, meaning is color and the rainbow is so so beautiful. We have to choose them colors well.
Khoi-San Jul 24
Oh architects of concrete
How you have stolen my plains
And dredged my soul
The Falcon hovers in vain
And the Hare has no hope
While you swing you clubs
For glory and embrace the
Walls filled with accolades
All at nature's dire expence
The plague that drives deforestation
G Rog Rogers Aug 2017
Fly with me to Paris
and We will climb
the Eiffel Tower
We'll see the Louvre
And walk along
the Avenue des
Champs Elysees

We will walk
alone together
along the great
Seine River
And latch
a lovers lock
upon the bridge
above the water

We can picnic
on the grass
in the grandest
park in Paris

Then embrace
within the shadows
of Notre Dame
Where there
We'll swear
Our love
forever sure

We will seal it
with a kiss
And know We
never missed
The times
and places
that make
A life



Rain on me,
For I have been longing to be free.
Lost in my world, needlessly.

Rain on me,
For I am too tired and I need sleep.
This world is a herd and I cannot be its sheep.

Rain on me,
And show me the way.
This place is empty and I cannot stay.

Rain on me,
It has been too long.
I am sick and tired of pretending to be strong.

Rain on me,
I want to see the lightning pierce the sky.
As the thunder roars and the clouds fly.

Rain on me,
Let the winds take my mind to another land.
No one needs to know and no one needs to understand.

Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
I came up with this while I was watching the rain from my window, a few days back. I hope you like it.
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