Cranium put the hard disk under the shower for the soulful bath in the dawn to enjoy the coffee with my soulmate in the Golden flashes with the rise of morning aura but the bleeding of anonymous heart portrayed the caligo of little heart and made conversation with heart and mind but my ear holes
heard whispers of the broken angel where she was typing oxymoron upon crumpled diary of her old version and poked my vein to capture the rain of emotions by the feathery quill not keeping sad and deep status as our generation prefers
// I'm the heartbreak of broken angel who get abandoned for the unknown sin bound with the unseen scratch and named bad omen with the coronation #A shadow to the happiness who once was drenched with the blue inks
but my pain adorned the inks & named it poetry and I owe it as I am the owner of my poetry. Voyage belongs to me & needs no doctrine in the valley of meditation where the tomb is mine where I'm free from the orthodox of sapiens.
where my emotions will no more be judged and will never be named as fake tear where I'll breath to live my life not for other's need where my scribbles will kiss me.
Alphabets bleeded the oxymoron for the orthodox voyage in the where confabs felt contempt, But my curiosity poked me to know their condition for the breathlessness in the congregation and my diction sprouted
Giving the last morsel of earth to my shattered emotions I amputated my heart from my soul and kept in the in the solitude to me but the bud cuddled the tranquility and maturity & now .
Binding the mind in fence I kept the heart in the box where it will not melt for the Cherry Blossom smile of coax And planted the cactus upon the tomb but the heart bloomed again for and now inking the metaphors holding the thread (pen) of love for the coronal (poetry ) decorated herself as .
Blizzard in the evening of winter showered the sins on my garden where my Nightingale used to knit the lyrics for her last lover who once told her to make a sheet of rose & a glass of whiskey to mitigate the but the coax ensured
Eating the dashes of waves the casuarina tree Collecting the beads from the oyster Keeping a hope that one day she will be adorned like the roses of spring that sends the scent of heaven but darlin you are the ornament that have burn for Sweetheart!! You are .
Darlin !! Broken pieces you are my favorite metaphor in crimsoned sky where I keep myself busy in stitching the sour sore that sinks me in the azure where my heart carries Heliox for the senselessness being an Oblivion where my mind fights being a sciamachy in the ebony and grin in front of insomniac eyes where i able to feel the pain from the inks not to reciprocate but to be kind..Darlin!! I love your tinge when it pops on my screen as you taught me how to live with scars with the ragged fabrics.. I don't hate your brunette as I'm using it as my Aadhar (base) allopathy in the mud of self centre wherein I bury the poignancy in the oven to stir a verse that sings the song Broken but beautiful...
◦•●◉✿sᴇʟғ ᴄᴏɴsᴏ ʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ✿◉●•◦ Broken pieces of mirror mourned the rites inside the mirk that seems like the black hole bleeding the atrament upon the pink blushfrom the cornea that used to portray the canvas of love now draws the sonnets of oxymo ron by putting the last wilted rose in the ma gic box still hoping for splashy fresh petals but the heart fragments prohibi ting to visit the •• lane where there is coax poking• the stubborn mind to quit be•• ing quiet in the tranquil••• that will fill the void•• ness with the pet•• richor and the•• crims oned •• zep hyr••
//Darling!!! Can't you see the spaces and black dots that sucks my cardiac decaying the pace maker
~Dear !!! Threshold stop your waiting for the person who will never back to see you again... keep quiet in catastrophic cacophony not wasting sense & precious time
~I let my nib to pen the unspoken voice as I preferred to be quiet
Like the falling leaves in windy day they fall to fulfill other's wish accepting the paleness in the heart op- -en innocent face bei- -ng a victim where th- ey to- -rment for d load gre- -ed & never judge the food as they struggle to income each and evey morsel where education seems a fruit of heaven. what's ? What's their fault ? their birth or their pare nts who fail to take the responsibility for multiple birth? What's their fault the people who gives them chance to income or th -eir parents who send their child to income m -oney.What's their fault their fate or the illiteracy and stupidity of their parents ?? Who should be punished ? Their parents who send their children to do harmful or any kind of work or the man who does Harmful work as he is pay- -ing for it ?Child -ren are the fut ure of count ry but what about their future whenever they are squirming to appetite their hunger and push own self to the land of nightmare where each moment will haunt their psychology.....
~Child labour A blot of 21st century that shows face under shadow..
~ Illiteracy allows all superstition being a scar...
#season#wod Flash that awakes the universe diminishing the darkness of the black night where body shakes for the gulping of nightmare which haunts the soul by releasing droplets of fear.
Shine that spreads the colour to the oxymoron creating the smile of bright light and bathes the woods, the herbs the timber with an insight of rise by distributing the elixir of hope.
Sparkle that paints a canvas on the new dews of winter and texts my darling to sip the coffee from the ajar and pokes feathered heart to chirp the Dynamite .
You are the fearless Architect who sews the pores of black hole strings of spider taking inks from the blue sky collecting colors from Rainbow And some black breathes of heart to pour the whites with scintillating verse .
Rays of Summer Droplets of rain Rustling of Autumn Dews of Dew Snowflakes of winter Roses of Spring Waiting for you...
Dear muse !! sprinkle the magic metaphors turning scars of syllable into scintillating allegory
~You are my favorite season where can I sink myself
~You are the best in the universe Evey cuticle of my body is inspired with your touch and you.The flow of ink in my pen and red drops in my vein sings your saga. ...When my breath fails to inhale and exhale when my voice gets mutte- -red when I swim in the perennial river of tears to sink myself in the grief you and your tone arise me. I never feel lonely when you are beside me. I know I'm a turbul- ent & stubborn child but you have taught me to be me. To be honest, truthful.I can remember the voice ~whenever I can't afford one rupee then why I will take one rupee. I'm tough cos situation made me tough & d scenario that I have seen makes me more tough than before /Mard koh dard nehi hota/// Man doesn't feel pain... It's a myth.. An irony.. As I have seen tears gliding do wn after my mom.. But I run from that gloomy face as I can't handle. I'm not a queen of disney land But I'm a daughter of farmer who fights with the sweat to fulfill my needs I never show my love towards you but I love you. I'm proud proud to be like you.I escaped by chance from the death bed when I was 8 yr. old . And once you had told me that /God wants to do somethi ng through you that's why you are here.And this is the line why I'm still alive and have to do something that will make you proud...
O the vital past youth ! Wasn't that a phase I ne'er required ease and rest . For unlike instant , my bones sure wasn't feeble greeting death .
If only I could be that young I would certainly undergo mine first love again, As harshness and emptiness of my declining years wilt get buried In presence of teens, beautiful sorrows coupled with stress And undoubtedly in the existence of mine lover's savage expressions , Which once succoured my love life, and one I very much miss till date .
In whims of youth, was glorious,is breaking all rules With the power of friendship, we swayed the whole school. From commanding the younger to being the root of all issues, Hard to let slip of those strong memories, put together with those innocent folks, Even when life moves on , I'm certain all of us relives in it , Even in dreams .
Youth hood, the broad daylight of life Is the definite span of promised happiness With verities of greives followed with de trop bundle of advice.
Ain't prime youth , the hour in which the day of life dies! Ain't it the phase packed with considerable pessimism ? The innessential aggressions and those unrequired angers Did I not feel the loss of patience !