~ STORIES ~

I have a hundred stories to write,
About the smile a bird forms when it flies..
The softness , a seed hides with it's shell..
Love of waves running to their shore..
And pain of clouds when they rain...

Yet on some days, on some greyish nights
I chose ... not to be a poet
But to be the nature, telling you stories
Of leafs that fell, birds that migrate..
Mountains that hold sun on their crests
And oceans that swallow moon & her stars..

- so that, I can still be able to share stories
Sometimes through words...
And
Sometimes through sceneries..

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~ BLOSSOM

I look at the blossoming flowers,
And i wonder what do they really need?
To free themselves from the warmth
Of sepals enclosing them in a tight hug....
So they can grow their petals &
Peak at the vast blue sky..?
Or remain as a bud & hug those sepals back
Let those protect them from the rain & the sun
Through the cold winter & rushing winds ...

I ponder on what choice flower has to make?
To be a blossom or to be a bud
To bloom & leave the comfort of sepals
Experience the beauty of being a flower..
And spread their fragrance....
Or be a bud, craving to be protected
Fearing that their beauty will attract
The people who will pluck her off ,
And anguish the warmth they'll loose.. !

- the uncertainty of choosing between
Being protected `` a ruined bud..
&
Being free `` a wild flower...

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~ TREPIDATION ~

More than anything else,
I'm that timid star..
Who chose to hide herself from sky
Cos , she was no longer capable
of setting herself on fire
To emit light when darkness
Surrounds her every night . .
Who constantly fears falling down..
Cos everything she could think of
Is how it is going to ache her
Blemished body and bruised heart
The moment she finally hits the ground..

Even though the strength she gained
Through those endless dark nights ,
She is still ... that agitated star...
Who totally forgot, that a fallen star
Grants wishes of hopeless people
Who believe in the magic
She carries within her soul .....

-

~ LONGING....

Perhaps, the treasure... I've ever longed..

Was a house, which doesn't feel like a void
When I don't have people to fill in my rooms
A shelter , where those four walls can stop
Rains that fall inside ,
A pillar, where I could lean my soul
When it is at the verge to scatter like lines in my poetry....
A room, where I have cupboards
To store faces I can't ask..myself to carry ..

And when I found it, during nights
Which taught me solitude in lonely hours..
I realised , I've always owned a home .....
In my own arms, within the edges of my heart
Wrapped in the warmth of my soul...
Which I neglected..
While .. Trying to find it in others....

-

-

Out of many things in this world
I chose ink that can bleed through my heart
And a blank paper, which shall carry
Pieces, my skin couldn't hold for too long
Out of a hundred shapes I've seen
I chose to admire a line made of words
And words that we're daring enough
To slip through my slits.
So some day if I fail to be a thing
Out of things i could've been ,
Somehow I can exist in this world
through something called poetry.

-

And! I might end up being
A little different,
Not as a crack that's burst open ,
Showing the dark hollow
That's left behind when I chose
To fall out of myself !
But as a crack on a old wall
Serving as a door to let
Little saplings out of the dark .

~ cos now I started realising
How cracks held two different meanings
One the destruction life fills over the
time , and second life filled by time
In those destroyed parts.

-

Somehow, I'm convinced that the
Moon is just another self conscious soul
Hiding herself from the eyes of world
Once in a while on a dark night
Completely exhausted after all her
Attempts to decide how
She feels & wants herself to be .
A crescent resembling a smile
Pure & filled with solitude ,
Or a circle confidently embracing
All of her dark spots ,
Or a quarter , tired of accepting herself
But not wanting to give up.

And somehow, I'm convinced
To handle my insecurities like her,
To be okay with disappearing till
I feel strong to reappear & still having
The gut to fight back of how aware
Things makes me feel when darkness
Overpowers my light,
& accept every phase of feeling
That shall take me to feel & be
Complete again .

-

Pizzas along side roasted turkey,
mashed potatoes & green salad
Served in fancy dishes,
And a old bottle of grape wine
On my new decorated dinner table
Reminds me of fairy tales .


But, all of this would have been
Perfect if this prision offered
To grant my wishes other than
Arranging this dinner .

-

When the night gets too dark
And the canvas on my desk looks
Too white for me to see
how hope would look like
I start drawing lines , some curved,
Some straight, some broke & some
Which don't know where they'd go, until
I let all of them pile up at one place
To shade the gaps left in
Between with black until i know
I had enough of blackness filled in ,
To call it a piece of art.

And how that piece of art,
Made out of lines & circles
Got something to be recognised as
When i decided to fill
What's left empty with everything I had
Is how healing myself would look like,
Tracing cracks, filling voids
Until i can call my life a work of art.— % &

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