The Barren

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I was unclothed,
raw and skinless.
The bones seem to hang
to each other,
like they’re tired of holding
their own weight.

Felt naked for so long,
it started to reflect.
Growing insensitive of screams
surrounding my presence.
I had no nerves to feel,
nor any pores to sweat.

I was akin to a carcass
of an animal,
left by the hunter,
after being done with the play
for which it was preyed.

Perhaps, that’s what
they referred as the cost
of abandoning those
who did swear on your love.
Time wandered through me
like a mice in maze.

Here I was standing,
amidst a home of birds
and the nest of people.
They’re calling me
by my name,
but I had no idea
of what it did sound like
any more.

Is there still a life here?
waiting to be kind
to someone who’s seeking
a warmth in a cold,
if not a shelter in summer’s.

Where most saw,
stack of wood piled up
before bonfire
gets commenced.
A star, still saw here
a scaffold for a structure
yet to emerge out of eclipse.

The fire it is,
in its heart,
that’s warming me,
so that the burned one
may live once again.
Folding time to a junction,
where spring too knew,
what they call now – the barren.

– Dedicated to the stars, both of earth and the heavens, that show up time and again, to rekindle the dry flame.

Image Credits:
“The Barren” – By Aminah Tasleem.

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C percent amore

Sunflowers and a tree

You occupy my world, no matter where I see…

You are as refreshing as ice tea
amidst a hot scorching day,
of which even trees seem to seek
a drowning place.
Yet, for one who can have you,
wouldn’t wish
the days of summer to ever end.

You are as loving and carefree
as new monsoon rain,
post storms and thunderous flash,
screams of which scare both
living and undead.
Yet, for one who can have you,
wouldn’t wish
the sigh of clouds to ever end.

You are as rejuvenating as the soil
of a holy place,
one that has received countless
subservient seeking liberation.
For one who can have you,
would sure become
a seed turning in a new leaf.

You’re as tender as the breeze
blowing from high gardens,
for the one who has served life
in a closet.
For one who can have you,
wouldn’t wish
a return, to any other imprisonment.

You are as fragrant as an incense
burning at steeple of the lovers,
those who sought life after death.
For one who can have you,
would sure linger more,
waiting for winds to gust
fast with your kisses.

You are as encompassing as lake,
the eyes of the valley land,
open for one who’s never sighted
any miracles.
For, one who can have you,
would keep praising without a flinch,
till each corner leaks stream.

You are as inviting as bird humming,
singing new song every morning,
perching on ear drums of one
who’s drunk sleeping.
For, one who can have you,
would not just trip at melodies,
but dance with silent symphonies.

Yet, my beloved, I know not,
how to define you
like you define all…
Way you carry in your essence,
the pathway to my soul.
Nor I carry any idea,
to spell what your world’s made for…
But then, what do I know…?
Since, I merely dwell at cent
of the C percent amore…

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Yet, what I love of you, is speckle in the galaxy.

– Dedicated to the beloved, who we love all about, yet only like the one away from the ocean, like merely standing on the shore.

Image Credits:
1. Sunny Meadow – Stock image (GettyImages)
2. Pinching Galaxy – Stock image – (shutterstock)

Her Eyes

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“Eyes are portal to the soul.”
If you ever feel confused, or unsure,
and want to find out if you’ve really begun
to fall for someone,
then just ask yourself this…
how much you adore your beloved’s eyes…?
Enough, to dive deep in them and
make the world inside them your own?
Wish you enough, to see what they see,
what they reflect, what they rise and fall on?

My friend, told me that…
But I for one, never knew how one can ever describe the eyes….

I mean, how can you do it?
You gonna define its color…?
You gonna express how they shine…?
You gonna fall for its shape or its size..?
Or you gonna describe way they close and reopen…?

Like, what possibly any pair of eyes can do differently
that would make them stand apart
from countless others belonging to similar species…?

And then one day it struck me…
I knew one pair of eyes, perhaps, more than I knew mine.
It was the day I realized, “I know her enough…”
Too clichéd, yeah? I asked my self the same…
But it wasn’t like I fell for those beautiful gems,
right the moment I gazed into them.
It took its time. But to be honest…
It wasn’t fair, from beginning to the end.

I think, it’s really impossible to ignore
the raw beauty they possessed,
after all…

How could one possibly ignore one that saw the pain
like a sky mourning for the Sun after the rain…
Like reminding us, how often we don’t appreciate
worth of something until its far too late.
Eyes that would not just mourn but burn
the Sun within to set things right the way they can…
Applying herself like a dawn of hope in dark nights
of those who’d rather wish to sleep
forever under blankets of numbness post pain
than remaining awake to heal and change
for what’s left still, what can still be saved.

How could I have escaped the effect of eyes
that were inclined to see something positive,
something worth saving and cherishing
in every soul they ever met.
Like a sprout of a fragrance that leaves from the flowers
irrespective of whose surrounding they engage.
Eyes that saw things based on their intensity, their essence,
no matter caste, creed, color, background, ethnicity,
social status, or religious difference.
Like a wind tending the garden, touching all the flowers
with the love and grace, without splitting or grading them.

How can one turn an eye blind at way her eyes would see the world
like a living orchestra constantly producing symphonies…
Way her eyes would manage to see and read something to be learned
and kept as a part of soul out of even catastrophe…
Like her eyes would know exactly where to look, to find
a voice in silence, to find expressions in stoic and music in noise…
In totally bland and apparently common things of life,
that we tend to ignore trivially… they discover sense and poetry.

I think I can define…
Its color…? They’re rainbows and butterfly mosaics combined…
in a way that one can never keep its full spectrum confined.
They give life to world, leaking warmth in seams.
Its shine…? They’re an ocean with sparkling glitter of skies.
Reflecting both the golden hues of day and moonlight’s silver gown in night.
They give hope, they speak of light.
Its shape…? They’ve a shape of the sea shells, enclosing pearls within,
they’re made to carry even anomalies, that can emerge into exquisite.
Its size..? They’re limitlessly deep… pathway to the cosmos,
way to the galaxies, deep and wide than anything ever seen.
They give intensity to those who dwell just on cursory or surfaces…
And way they close and reopen…? Well, they keep themselves open like wells,
to contain the wishes, to encapsulate the moments, the vivid dreams,
moreover, they open like the wings of angels… determined to help spirits.
And they close on like the gates of palace and castles, saving everything inside,
from those who’re unfriendly and intrusive. Who try to malign a soul or mind.

I just love the way they sees things…
And never once yet it happens that they rise with a pride
or drown with keeping an air of numbness or vanity…
They are curious like the baby’s, wishing to know more and yet
as still and weary as an elderly’s piercing the hides to dwell deep.

Yes, I know from her eyes, that I love the world
that she inhabits in them, all that’s read by them,
world that these eyes reflect on,
but above all, I love the way they convert pain
into something positive,
way they forgive, way they rejoice, way they stare deep inside,
way they make one realize…
there’s more to world then what meets the eyes.
I do indeed, love her eyes…

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– Dedicated to the beloved’s eyes… (this poem is an ensemble piece of several small poems written on same theme).

Image Credits:
1. Soul Washout by Clarisse Litiatco (Deviantart)
2. Colored Eye Drawing by Kate Louise Powell (Pinterest)

Trampoline of Hope

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The Fallen Angel – I look for you, to rise again…

My love,
If I ever escape from your pull
remind me, like a Star,
how I need your charm,
to remain like a moon,
rather a dull rock.

If I ever get lost amidst the way
remind me, my love,
like a Sun,
how I need your direction,
to remain like a journeyman,
rather a mere wanderer.

If I ever begin to drown in ocean
remind me, my love,
like a steadfast sail,
how I need to work the waves,
to remain like a swimmer,
rather a sunk weight.

If I ever begin falling from grace
remind me, my love,
with a holy spell,
how I need to tend my wings,
to remain an angel,
rather a devil’s advocate.

If I ever feel defeated in battle
remind me, my love,
like a trampoline of hope,
how I can rise back,
to remain in knight’s form,
rather than a mercy rag.

If I ever start loosing a grip
remind me, my love,
like your hem’s knit,
how I need a safety net,
to remain like a mountain,
rather than an abyss.

If I ever begin to break in skin,
remind me, my love,
like one sculpting,
how I need to collect shards,
to remain composed as a piece,
rather than one fallen apart.

Remind me always,
my love
of our days,
the tears we shed,
and laughs we had,
moments we made,
for all time we spent.

But, do bring me back,
from depths of darkness.
For you’ve to remember this,
light is needed the most
at the gloomiest.

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The Flying Angel – It’s your spirit that always keeps me propelled.

– Dedicated to the beloved – who fills our heart with hope and joy, never giving up on us, no matter what.

Image Credits:
1. Fallen Angels (Cover art) – tophdgallery.com
2. Angel in Sky – blog.gggodonou.me

The Fleeting Star

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I see you in moon’s,
I see you in star’s light,
as their glimmer blankets
the roads, homes, valleys
and ceaseless sky…
Reciprocating the eyes
seeking to extinguish darkness with light
“I am yours, just –
slip your fingers into mine…”

I see you in waves
I see you in tides,
as they run across the miles
and dance on bed of sea
infinite…
Reciprocating to the wind
that takes them into an arm
“I am yours, just –
slip your fingers into mine…”

I see you in rains,
I see you in cloud’s sigh,
that falls across the land
and holds under its spell
the magic infinite…
Reciprocating to the skies
that caresses them tight
“I am yours, just –
slip your fingers into mine…”

I see you in lows,
I see you in highs,
the ranges that are spread
atop the river’s spine,
as far as they see, the naked eyes…
Reciprocating to the sight
that chases it beyond all lines
“I am yours, just –
slip your fingers into mine…”

I see you in dreams,
I see you in rhymes,
those moments that carry
the poems sublime, with which
you compose symphony of life.
Reciprocating each heart beat,
tracing silage, for last location and sign,
“I am yours, just –
slip your fingers into mine…”

But you’re not here… my love,
you’re in my mind,
as a silhouette left
after the Sun has drowned.
– A light, that lingers,
even after star has ventured
far away.

In each moment that
I come closer,
I try to make you mine…
But you slip…
from my embrace
like I am trying to hold
a water or sand
too tight…

You’re a happiness that I find,
amidst a time when
one moment lapses onto another…
right at those intersections
where one line meets the other
to complete a circle.
And as much as I want
that moment to last,
I still find myself in void
after I loose your trail…
fortunately often
with moist on my lips to tell,
infinite did kiss the finite.

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– Dedicated to those infinities that every finite wants to hold on to, for as long as possible…

Image Credits:
1. Beach Photography – wallpaper (webneel.com)
2. Ocean Rain – Stock wallpaper

Dégénérescence

Student artist, Joanna Bassi on her current show, 'Hallowed Degeneration'

Pages are used to wrap the loaf..
Loaf is used to attract the votes.
Paper is used to exhibit a worth.
Worth is used to mark the culprits.

Innocence is used to make a trade.
Men are used to sharp the blade.
Flowers are used to honor the dead.
Dead are used to cover mistakes.

Water is used to leave a color.
Air is used to choke the inhaler.
Heart is used in exchange for a life.
Life is used to buy meal for a time.

Music is used to sedate the brains.
Opinions are used to kill the taste.
Words are used in eulogy of departed.
Silence is used to push injured to death.

Walls are used to reflect echoes of praise.
Praise is used to accumulate more praise.
Images are used to kill the imagination.
History is used as art of social dictation.

Years are used to count the survival.
Minutes are used to buy the patience.
Friends are used to climb the steps.
Steps are used to suppress the brilliance.

Systems are used to keep the inheritance.
Inheritance is used to bury the competence.
Routine is used to declare the efficiency.
Efficiency is used to step-over effectiveness.

Sentiments are used to create a trust.
Trust is used to negotiate an advantage.
Art is used to garner the popularity.
Popularity is used to settle the facts.

Distant planets are used to wish for a home.
Earth is used as picnic and vacation place.
Labels are used to veil the substance.
Substances are used to reach the mystics.

Resources are used to please the divinity.
Religion is used to avoid all scrutiny.
Science is used to measure the emotions.
Emotions are used to skip all objectivity.

Flowers are judged by intensity of colors.
Gardens are used to decorate the palaces.
Height is used to measure the greatness.
“How it happens” is used to skip the logic.

Measures are used as goals and targets.
Targets are used for an excuse of a process.
Dreams are used to avoid the reality.
Reality is used to discard the marvels.

Ears are used to savor the “Yes”.
Eyes are used to judge the beauty.
Tongue is used to taste a toxic.
Skin is used to create a dress.

Oceans are used to test the menace.
Skies are used for birds of vengeance.
Education is used to increase the distance.
Stars are used to blame perils of existence.

Rules are used to judge the artistry.
Standards are used to pass conformity.
Familiarity is used to asses creativity.
Weapons are used to suppress hostility.

Fireworks are used to hide the decay.
Fear is used to keep up the display.
Pictures are used to skip the word,
Words are given to skip the day.

Student artist, Joanna Bassi on her current show, 'Hallowed Degeneration'

– Dedicated to the societies and civilizations of name.

Art/ Image Reference: Artist, Joanna Bassi from her show, ‘Hallowed Degeneration

 

The Poem

Flamenco Dancer

Flamenco Dancer

She was never stiff,
and was flowing like
a natural rhythm.
Quite like how rain
falls on a barren lands
after the decades
of temperance.

Or like a star twinkling
on a paper-thin sky
at cusp of midnight,
which won’t flatter
the onlooker, yet
would reveal enough
light to admire.

Well it worked for me,
and didn’t left in me
anything more
to desire from her.
Instead I was
so overwhelmed,
I was drinking
her in chunks.

I wish I could
write a response to her
something worthy,
different,
something spectacular.
Something that would
leave an impression.

I’ve seen water leaving
an impression on the rock.
Wind painting masterpieces
on canvas of dust.
Mountains bedding oceans,
and Time destroying even most
permanent of the illusions.

Yet when it comes to her,
I’m like an ice
melting in a water.
A moon sketched on lake,
like a pearl having
an unknown origin,
untraceable destination.

It wasn’t too late,
I realized,
mere words in return
for the words that changed
something inside me,
won’t satisfy her.
She deserves more!
She deserves better!

Instead, She would like
to discover something
novel in me
when I return.
It wouldn’t be wrong
to say, I’d carry
a fragment
of her reflection.

– Dedicated to “The Poem” 😉

Immortal Poem by Cat Girl

Reflection is how a poem becomes immortal

Art Reference:
1. Painting: Flamenco Dance by Caroline Gold
2. Deviantart – Immortal Poem by Cat Girl

Image Credits: allpostersimages.com and deviantart.net