Emotions

Grace of London

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On the streets of London,

Night at its darkest hour where despair is in abundance,

Eyes full of hope starring at the open sky,

Abomination towards mankind in heart calling happiness a big lie,

Despised by the ignorant society,

Midnight madness strikes her,

Crying her heart out like an infant,

She wandered on the streets of despair with a youthful harlots curse.

 

Reciting verses of Wordsworth,

Out of the dark,

A knight appeared,

Magnificent as a stallion he stands before her.

 

At the loneliest hour she experienced mankind’s sheer hatred and kindness in the same night,

He took her hand to the garden of hope,

Love struck grace with a wild card of existence,

She lay in the arms of the knight,

Only to discover it as a lonely dream,

A mere illusion leaving tears in her eyes.

 

The wind whispers a merry song again,

Her eyes lit up like the shimmering stars,

Gray November and white December shall die,

As the days go by,

On this ground her tears lie,

A flower besides her blossoms soothing her melancholic cries.

 

Demons & Angels

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I shall count the stars in the sky,

This heart of mine is in pain as the days goes by.

 

The bright light of the moon is veiled by my iniquity,

Uprightness is lost like the treasures in the sea,

The prickling pain is sharp and constant,

Weeping and crying with shaking hands,

Joy and happiness is the dull fairy tale which was preached.

 

Soul friend of mine,

She sends her love,

On the wings of a dove,

I wonder what she will say,

If I tell her that I cry every day,

And I have to start all over again.

The Girl I Met This Summer

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Out of site but not out of mind,
Her words are always kind,
Her kind heart is a fountain of pleasure,
Her smile spreading joy in the vicinity which is to treasure,
She is like Shakespeare’s poetic verse,
Don’t take her away oh lord I shall have you to curse.

Oh lord I follow you with all my devotion,
But the Gods also mock my bewildering emotions,
To be with her once more is the only notion,
When I wander in darkness,
She rescues me with her saintly notion.

The angels gentle smile,
The angles grace,
The angles sparkling eyes,
To lay my eyes on them is the only escape from this melancholic life cries.

 

 

Wandering with Sorrow

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I have wandered too far,

Nearing death with blinding sight,

I sit with loneliness blocking the path of hope,

Lost dreams and foolish hopes shall fill my grave.

 

Little more wine and little more crying,

Still drowning in the sorrows of life,

My tears fall upon the blinding dust of the earth,

Feeling sorry for my own ingratitude.

 

Half the night I waste in my own penance,

Half the night I waste in dreams of folly,

In a wakeful dose I sorrow.

The Magic of Poetry

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A good poem is like a bright light, a ray of sunshine, a contribution to the universe and I wanted to share this quote by Dylan Thomas for all the poetry lovers on this beautiful Saturday evening.

“A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.” 
― Dylan Thomas

The Magic Words…….

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Sometimes we find ourselves between the bewildering crossroads of life. Faith, hope & vision become menial, one’s own existence becomes a doubt and fear looms like a dark cloud. Our prose becomes dreary, constantly reaching out to the island of sanity but asylum is farfetched. Then we just need an angel to utter the magic verse…. “It’s going to be OK”

Dreamer’s Dilemma

 

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I have a theory about dreamers, they are emancipated from this stifling world of friends and family, materialism and future security holds no meaning to them, it’s very menial to them. They live on the edge and find happiness in their dreams, but happiness is the real enemy here, it weakens the soul and it puts doubt in the mind. The cloud of curiosity drifts on one’s mind and suddenly there is something to lose.

The question arises here is that, should dreamers hold on to their dreams and be fooled by the dreams they seek or move around, be nomadic, make each day a new horizon?

Tales of Ordinary Madness

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High in the sky, with bright feathers, humming a sweet song which compliments the beautiful morning, free spirit, lost in the wonderland. This is how a free bird leads its life and everyday a new space with some new boundaries to cross and to celebrate life with new experiences.

I also want to be free, escaping the shackles of ordinary and menial life, the monotonous routine doesn’t excite me, I am a creative person, a little emotional, a little soft, life should be like art and like the flow of a brush life should change course. I crave for marvelous or excellence, to achieve the impossible and dazzle the world with it. My absurd existence should draw out a meaning to this life; happiness is top on my list, to escape from this cage and fly again. The soul is trapped with uncertainty about the future and fear of losing, I just want to run away from this melancholy prison and dive into madness.