Benighted.

There come a deformed soul, With anguish in blood, Filled with Regrets and remorse. Singing catatonic verses. . What does they say? From their cursed mouth, A made up face, bemoaning facts. Molars broken, bleeding coax. . Swaying away from truth, In the trance and intoxicants Guised in the name of pseudo Illumination, Ignorant with

A dried solitary leaf. (Poem)

Time and again it reminded, When it was the bud, Belonging to the twig of its colony. Flurrying to its glory, Growing to its full laminar stage, With all its stipulary accessory mates , All the shines it absorbed, and burn itself to produce the chimes, To the world of callous mortals. Eating, enjoying and

Epiphany

Deep in the treasure of yester days, Lies mysteries embedded in the memories of forgotten tales. That past heralding the echoes in ear, Reminding those of declining days. . . . Time that bore forsaken fruit, Thundered in the heavenly canopy, The roads where mind roam freely Reminding me it’s only a fallacy. . .

The day.

Stones where I rested my back on, Are contemptuously jinxing me. Sporadic Spasm in my muscles, The poison does not disintegrate. The arrows in my bivouacing sky, still lingers in my grimy eyes. . . . Ah! My gallant derides sans sanity, I raged in the skeptic night, Non-convalescent and acrimonious. I incercerated in the

The setting of the sun.

My endearment lied in my hands, Unblemished it was unable to reach your shore. We though seem to converge, But it was the lie of the eye. We were parellel like the shore. .. My tears, laughter dried with your Visage diverging, In the teritory where my shadow vanishes, Thou shalt then have the shade

Ground.

I am totally awestruck and overwhelmed by the response by the one of my favorite writers on wp, Ayesha Kishwar from @the write direction. I feel I am not eligible to describe her style of writing you just need to see for yourself. Here is the link to her latest post. Ayesha. It was just

Mirage.

has it been the empty stride? Was  the heart  that pumped the wrong blood? Or the air breathed in was the odd one? . The sky till shines and moon still gleams, The day still awaits for the sun to expand, The red dwarf, the nescent stars, Wait till it crumble  to clump. And then

Poetry is you.

Poetry is not just the words, poetry is you. Poems do not speak, speaketh what is you. It speak to the world in silent words, Even though the mouths remain shut. . I have pain, longing, desires & epiphanies, And soulful words soujouring in my larynx.. While it comes to mouth in ominous shy. And

Glitter but not gold. (Poem)

Somewhere sometimes In the midst of solitary night , Where the darkness seemed, To pinch, I stood there, ’cause I like the comauflaging night. Where it blankets me beautifully. . Street lamps there it stood with, Shimmery pale light; yellow, It harboured insects for a night And in dawn lied dead, parallel. It wasn’t moon;

A Poem.

Under the mauve sheet layered intricately, The hearts painted with raging blood, From the tale of Romeo Juliet to till now, All those died cause of love. Those pompous pillers, and stairways, Hearts Serenading the rosy apparition. . Entangled, espoused were gallant bloods, Treaded the roads of desert for the Ocean of love. Lively-history and