Spring rising

A lush green
Thoroughly undisturbed
And the bleeding gold
Seeping through the crevices
Blue and grey –
An elongated spine
Rising into the sky
And a million hands,
Comforting the spring
Besotten shades of life.
The nightgales singing
With the rising tides,
On this stone encased land
The mellow music
Sparrs with the wind
And with mountains to cross
We lie with the
Dew ridden grass
Underneath our skin;
This moment, for a lifetime,
A stillness embedded
Forever within.

Dear reader,

What do you usually do during spring? I find the season of change to be a period of growth, and a time to see restore yourself and rejoice. A time that can only be described as magical.

Radar

Isn’t it beautiful?
Every emotion that passes by
A moment to recognize
You’re still alive.

It’s too short,
We are often told
Live a life without regrets
And yet, we question
A simple task, to touch
To speak, it’s undefined
Yet within a simple moment
A constrain forever bound.

A million moments
To break out soul
Yet within the swirling dark
Resides a clawing creature
That will fly.

Beauty

Indeed as we pass by,
Forging conversations
Within and with you,
Side by side
Growing old, and the heart
Drawing a little closer;
A million ways we define each other –
Smiling and with no expression,
Frowning and a little self conscious,
A childish glee
To grasp at each straw
It’s the opposites, yet again.
I see
The warming sun
Glistening in your soul,
The lazy wind
Lighting up your eyes,
Amidst the wondrous creations,
You’re the most beautiful, after all.

Reflection

Reflection

She’s treading.

In this weave of sparkling
Laughter, we walk alongside,
Baiting disasters. When the silence
Was a melody that wanders
The soul of mortals, parched,
The company of a few
Bequethes the gloom with a spark.

On the side, it remains.

The cynicist in every word
The doubt in each smile,
The broken parts
Scorched with mellifluous
Words. Its the reflection
Caught between the present
And the fast.

The serenade.

Between the blurred images.
Seems, time still flows in and out.
The future remains, every so unclear.

Dear reader, Do you ever seems the whispers of the past wandering into the way you see percieve people? Does it change your outlook and sometimes brings out the cynicist in you? Memories somehow become a part of you, but do you think you can defy them when you make decisions for the future?

Haze

His eyes were liquid honey
Blazing and brimming awake;
‘Twas twilight reflected on his gaze.

She stares away, in a daze
Instincts clouded and lips locked away,
Memories clouded and muddled.
This familiar haze….

But, there it stays,
The raging storm
From a time before dawn.
Yet again, the familiar emotions
Grips the saint; so silence,
Please, let me tame the devil.
Let the ugliness and lingering touches fade
Lightly, till she reaches the meadow.

In this haze, let the past fade,
She will give up,
For now, it isn’t her place.
Maybe later, all that will remain
Is the nostalgic ache.

Dear reader, Have your ever felt like your past is impeding your progress? How do you move past it? In this case, I write about crushes, which seem to impart the same emotions – dread and illogical happiness, regardless of your age. Yet, we may choose not to pursue it due to unforeseeable repercussions. It’s a strange emotion indeed.

Phoenix

Burning to fly,
Rising from the ashes
And learning –
With each fall,
Pleading with the next one
To rise. In the darkest
Hour, with each twilight
Bust into flames
And be reborn,
More alive
Than destiny claims.

Poet’s note: Dear reader, have you ever sat in a darkened room and just crying yourself? Hopeless? People say it makes you stronger, eventually. For now, I’ll just say – breathe.

Long poem: Unbridled Spirit

In this mighty grey,
She trails behind.
Behind her kin,
Her friends,
Behind the ones.
Trying to be better.

It is such a slow progress
Once, then twice and then some,
Breaking spirits as they come.
What will you do?

Unchained, she limps on;
Scrapping wounds,
Sweating blood.
Trailing behind,
‘Loser’ is the term
With which she is defined.

Yet, she is unbreakable,
No, let me clarify,
She is broken
With golden inlays.
Unbreakable as the pieces lay,
Scattered to be reclaimed.
Her soul retains
It’s hearth at its very core;
She remains
Unbridled.

Are you there
Listening?
Or maybe trailing
To watch
Her, succumb?

No, they are unbreakable.
Among all gists of things,
They realize, that like the
Fire and water, and the spaces
In between,
They remain
The unbridled spirit;
Especially in the spaces
That the dark claims.

They are
Unbreakable.

Poet’s note: Have you ever felt that you were trailing behind? Have you ever dealt with depression that wrecks you? If you’re still breathing, if you’re still trying, whether it is for you or for someone else, to me, you are unbreakable, and just damn inspiring. Good afternoon!

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Journey

Like the wind blowing
Throughout the year,
We change our tides, failing
And fairing; to never disappear
Into the abyss
That we, oh so fear.
In the darkness within the depths,
And the light past the distress,
We dance in the rain,
Even when gloom remains.

Still.
We strive; humans so turbulent,
Yet we rise,
Past the blunders and the beasts
That haunt our time.

The journey in the dark,
The journey to steer
Between the narrow
Wisps of hope; blues
Reds and green,
And everything in between
Melds with my
Metallic skin.

The past, so slow to fade,
Yet the future,
Glows.
Are you awake?

Poet’s Note: What are the demons that haunt you now? Have you ever dealt with something that tore you apart, but built you at the same time? It is not always rosy, and sometimes it is downright shitty. But we, humans, we persevere. That’s what I think. Good evening!

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Randomness

A rift, ever so small
That can uplift,
Or let you down.
A momentary impact
To change the tides,
A monumental moment
That can change
Your time. As we wander
Past the black and white,
The grey gracefully
Pounces into your life.

Poet’s note: Have you ever experienced momentary happiness when you were down in the dumps? A simple act that may help you perserve might indeed be a random one.
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