An attempt at my college prompt on the topic "How one vote can make a difference" National voter's day is celebrated on 25th January every year. So I urge you to be responsible citizens and responsible voters. Also, Happy Republic Day to you all♡
PS:- It was really difficult to write on a concrete topic, yet I tried my level best to give it a shape of poetry. Hope you all like it. :)
This year has been a roller coaster ride for me. A lot of ups and downs came in my life which made me emerge as a strong and mature person. This year was all about learning and prioritizing the self with right things. So the piece written below is a reflection of my whole year and how I lived my life despite of getting disturbed so many times. I hope that you all will like it. PS :- I didn't proofread it even once and it has been directed straight from my heart so it is completely raw. Share your honest feedbacks :)
Where do unspoken words go when they die? Do they stay petrified in silence like the lips of Pompeii's offsprings when Vesuvius raged from the mount of her Sevenfold Height and buried the last of heart's tender outbursts in her liquid venom?
Where do unsaid words go when they die? Do they trail sore on needle stuck flesh to the wild wind's antic like a thread broken kite while Goddess Elysian from her baby blue crib frets and frowns and begs for it to find a safe landing?
Where do unspoken words go when they die? Does it flail its bony arms for the touch of its lover's familiar embrace from her six feet trench of a grave while the willow weeps her silvery leaves for the young burial that flows down river Lethe and never made home?
Where do unsaid words go when they die? Is yours as sour as the taste of blood on my mouth when I swallow the rise of rebellion on my teeth clamped coward jaw? Is yours as mournful as the drop of the sun in the West and the eerie hush that hang on the eaves of a forgotten ghost town when the Night comes to rest?
O where do words go when they die? Is it me I mourn for? Is it words I mourn for?
can I catch the clouds in palms? why are the stars this far from my eyes? will this August sunset write me around? why is the wind always on its toes? does sunrise wake the mountains early? why does the spring sound like a summer's soundtrack? and autumn, the winter's last hope?
why is the moon awake up to twilight? how willows bolster a sundial figure? does the ginger afternoon swallow the day athletics or shadows lurk it behind? do women with sickles flirt rabab at grange or raindrops tickle curls of horizon?
why do we thrive hairs and not flowers? what's in hiding pomegranate stains that breed your existence? and duo of primrose hops of flesh that rear you while you constantly totter?
can you lend me the address of monsoon? do coffee stores and libraries share an era? what lies more in the black beige books? does poetry smell of Bowery or cafè noir?
why do words sit more secure on my lips than breaths? can you instruct me, on how to live the truth while drowsing in fantasies?