Insulated to Insults

Have you ever felt alone a room with a crowd when you tried to blend?
Alone in a room crowded with people who you call as friends
and realised that so long all their love and fun was but pretend.

Continue reading Insulated to Insults

The Shuffled Pack

We came together when by youth we were led
and loved to play and had no tear to shed.
There was too much joy in my head
and now the pack is but dead.

Continue reading The Shuffled Pack

Why Am I A Poet

a lock that could be opened by a pen

Is it just because of my vocabulary and language skills?
If so, all poets should have earlier been teachers at schools.

Is it because, the world I see is different from others, that I write poetry?
But then, every madman on the streets would be the poets of the century.

Continue reading Why Am I A Poet

Rooted in Reality

They all were born from the fruits of the same seed
yet separated accused of being different breeds.

One grew on the best of everything
safe from harm caused by anything.

The other grew on the toughest of conditions
learning to live in the way of the worldly creations.

Continue reading Rooted in Reality

W101.V2. Day 5. Musings of a Muse

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.

~ T. S. Eliot

I‌ don’t know where to begin to describe or define poetry. I believe that poetry is the art of showing the world in a light it has never been seen in. It isn’t about looking at something new. It isn’t about looking at something with a new look.

Poetry is the art of finding a new way to look.

Then what about the poet?‌ Is the poet merely a looking glass or a window to the world that was never opened? John Keats sums it up with his quote:

Continue reading W101.V2. Day 5. Musings of a Muse

The Hero, The Beauty & The Beast

Providing our photo prompt this week is Sonya, author of the blog, “Only 100 Words.” Thank you Sonya!

With his fingers, he gently caressed her smooth, soft skin.
They were almost cutting through the surface so thin.
He felt blessed. He was at bliss.
Any moment now, he would ask the question.

As he almost did do the honour,
his mind had doubts in the harbour.
He felt queasy. He was uneasy.
From that moment, he was subject to torture.

As commanded by the laws of nature,
from his beauty, a beast did appear.
He felt mocked. He was shocked.

The beast sank into his beauty
and left him no place to be.
He felt sick. He was sick.
The beast had destroyed him utterly.

Continue reading The Hero, The Beauty & The Beast

Manufacturing Defect

Day 4:
Theme: Imperfection,
Style: Limerick,
Device: Enjambment

The truth be said, there is only one
who can be a model for perfection.
I believe that would be nobody
which will be accepted by everybody
who is a part of this creation.

Nobody is indeed perfect
something that we need to accept.
But then what is the meaning
of perfection – I find it exasperating
that no one can find its value on the market.

How can the value be defined? It is
something that can’t be
touched with a kiss.
Perfection can be defined in different
ways: To each their own statement.
After all no matter the name, a rose is a rose.

But as I said a few lines ago – isn’t perfection
under nobody’s possession?
Well, then who is this person?
And how is this quality in their arson?
Right now I have found an answer to this question.

You and I are the nobodies that the world has seen –
we are the perfections that have been
present right from the moment of existence
to now, where we are our own sustenance.

Be you. Be unique. Be perfect. Be your own king or queen.