If at all I get blessed uniquely by any chance, To hold some invisible powers, for instance, I would be a devil in the cloak of priest for sure, Devil to reveal the devil, in the ways obscure.
My pen would gallop like a dark horse of the race, Whenever it leaves on the white grass, it's blue trace, My fingers would ride on it, unveiling each cunning fox, Stripping off the derm of snakes who buried the truth in witness box.
All the false judgements shall be written and discarded, Crimes and criminals shall be dug out and bombarded, Sheer justice to the victims shall be served, until my fingers bleed, My ink won't spare a moment to relax, from sins until this Earth gets freed.
My pen shall play multiple roles, paint with kaleidoscopic inks, Until the barren land turns fertile, poverty and illiteracy shrinks, Every plate has bread, every womb bears a seed, Even the tiniest worm feels secured, no eyes bleed.
The huts blink with bliss, each bird hums the rhymes of mirth, Rivers hold enough to quench oceanic thirst, blessed is each creature's birth, Forests echoes with ecstatic roars, smells with multiple fragrances until infinite ages, Glossaries reflect 'Euphoria' as the synonyms for 'Earth' in all the existing languages.
Have you noticed the perfect sky blue sky? No fancy azure or cerulean, plain, simple and infinitely magical sky blue sky without a single cloud to mess it up. That is my sky, and who am I, Me Autumn, nice and fair, who has seen the highs and lows of love embroiled in the leaves of contentment. My unruly hair, sinewy limbs, burning eyes have thrown love out of the windows to let it mature into a fine wine that I can sip in leisure without bothering to measure the passing of time. Those scratches and bruises that throbs as pain from the head to my toes, I treat them with as much disdain as you can do to an invisible enemy. I am Autumn, full of life ready to rise and fly on the sky blue sky to stamp it with my songs of fulfillment.
pallavi4@lovesmessenger I’m so happy you liked it. That seal of approval means more than likes for the post. Sometimes I feel complicated, layered poetry does not bode well with readers simply because it is not understood the way it should be. Sometimes the timing of the post hampers its progress. Either way, although I’m always grateful for likes and comments , I write because the poem gets stuck inside me and seeks release. For me the release is important. If it is liked then great, if not then there’s always another day , another poem 😊
pallavi4I am truly touched by your words. Coming from a brilliant writer as you , it means even more. Thank you so much. The feeling of appreciation and respect is completely mutual😊
You looked down on me as if I had never looked up You hated me as if I never knew what love was You pinched me as if I was numb to all the pain As if you were deaf to my voice, you shouted at me without a pause
Every single time you let me down as if my heart was invisible to your soul
And when the eighth time I turned my heart into a pulsating stone This time too you proved to be wrong All you made me was insensitive and lifeless And you take the credit for making me strong
She was meandering through the forests Slowly entering her senescent phase An aura of mystique surrounding her With a drooping face Just like that of the wilted flowers, Her hair peppery grey Just like the weather A mix of heat and cold, Adorned in an overflowing Shabby yellow dress The same colour as the leaves.