OUR ORIGINAL POETRY: Share It Here

`Water`

It never sleeps, always in a wanderlust ecstazy.

Like the beaded sweat form by the heat of

the laptop on my leg. It has a mind of it?s own

Forming, and slowly dropping to his fate

To one day become a cloud.

To pass through every organism

simple ticks on his bucket list

It goes to school with tomato juice

College with Vodka and

marries grapefruit

The sweet wedding, I taste through my lips

One sunny morning, nestled in clean sheets

(My inner demon)....

What it feels like to be me

my brain feels stung by a million bees

i can't think straight no more

i wish I could just close that door

my inner demon never stops

she keeps antagonizing me till I pop

i don't know when this is going to end

i wanna be right but she goes left till I bend..

all I want is peace in my mind and heart

it's all I ever wanted from the start ...

Fate Beside the dried lake, At the end of that dark road.. Where nobody bothers to pay a visit.. There lies A lonely garden.. Her every bush and thorn and tree.. Covered an inch with dust.. Tender rose bushes.. Crushed by harsh thorns Yet, once, not long ago It was in full bloom.. Unlike any other.. She was fed and groomed And trimmed with adore By the hands of a gardner.. Who cherished her With his life Visitors from faraway would Tredge down the difficult roads.. Just to behold its beauty.. The garden shone with bliss So happily in her humble way.. Radiating love all around.. Her caretaker beaming With pride.. His eyes welling with happy tears But tragedy broke.. One by one the leaves Withered away.. Defeated in face of The cruel drought.. She stood alone as the crowds thinned.. Hoping for a drop of rain To quench her sorrows.. Each day, she withered An inch more.. And crumbled slowly down.. Her hopes for life Dimming with each Setting sun.. The gardener aged Witnessing her decay.. Her feeble attempts For her revival Failed in vain. Yet now and then, His trembling fingers Would gingerly touch A withering rose with love Hugging it to his Heavy heart.. In near future.. Both of them Would cease to be.. Unknown to a busy world.. And rest in peace clinging warmly In a final embrace..

Fate Beside the dried lake, At the end of that dark road.. Where nobody bothers to pay a visit... There lies A lonely garden.. Her every bush and thorn and tree.. Covered an inch with dust.. Tender rose bushes.. Crushed by harsh thorns Yet, once, not long ago It was in full bloom.. Unlike any other.. She was fed and groomed And trimmed with adore By the hands of a gardner.. Who cherished her With his life Visitors from faraway would Tredge down the difficult roads.. Just to behold its beauty.. The garden shone with bliss So happily in her humble way.. Radiating love all around.. Her caretaker beaming With pride.. His eyes welling with happy tears But tragedy broke.. One by one the leaves Withered away.. Defeated in face of The cruel drought.. She stood alone as the crowds thinned.. Hoping for a drop of rain To quench her sorrows.. Each day, she withered An inch more.. And crumbled slowly down.. Her hopes for life Dimming with each Setting sun.. The gardener aged Witnessing her decay.. Her feeble attempts For her revival Failed in vain. Yet now and then, His trembling fingers Would gingerly touch A withering rose with love Hugging it to his Heavy heart.. In near future.. Both of them Would cease to be.. Unknown to a busy world.. And rest in peace clinging warmly In a final embrace..

My elegant mother.. Only once in a while When rain pours out with such joy.. Like tonight.. memories return.. to embrace a heart With their warmth.. Would it be too weird.. If i wear that 4 fleeted uniform.. Shining bright with virgin white And sit on that bench by the cafe.. Under the roof of the mara trees.. Gazing at the rays of sunsine.. Smiling through the leaves.. Are the long sunny corridors.. still roofless.. Allowing the little rascals To play about in the rain.. does da ledge which gazes The serinity of my lord buddha.. Still cherish with loyalty.. secrets of two bestfriends.. Three best friends.. four.. nah.. Five best friends.. Listening to their.. tearful sobs and little conspiracies.. If i were to just enter "The Bodhiya" With reverence Heavy in my heart.. Would itz soft sand still greet me warmly.. As it did 6 years before.. Heart aches right now.. As greed for yesterday.. Creeps inside.. Yearning to walk freely.. Holding the warm hand of My dear amigo.. To kneel before.. The sacred boa tree.. Who once witnessed the tears Of a foolish young girl.. Who did bad at the exam.. And weep again.. Again like a little child Crying for the motherly embrace.. Such is love for you.. My mother.. Such is the love.. In the heart of this stupid girl.. With the tough journey I went through.. Not a moment I want to change.. In my memory about you.. May you always shine proudly The elegant pure lady.. As you always have.. Gifting a nation with Proud young lasses..

It wasn't that he accepted my offer for a slice of orange.
It was that he met my eyes with his as he used his teeth to pull a piece from the whole.

Orange
Orange-flavoured memories mixed with whisky-mash
and the fizz of Coca-Cola,
a taste of summer in Winter's night --
winter calm and cold reflected in steely,
icy,
fremd-blue eyes
with a smile and secret knowledge
of having seen into my soul
where orange-flavoured memories
forever burned within me remain
in stark contrast to the steel-winter blue
of his eyes

You know they would disapprove If you brought him home. But still, "The heart wants what it wants. " Isn't that the phrase your grandmother would say Between cups of weak coffee, and Out of date biscuits. Though eyes may wander to That Boy in maths, Despite the age gap, and his Infinitely interesting Tattoos of birds and childhood memories, He is the boy (man. The ten years difference makes Him a man, and more) you dreamt of, At fourteen. Your heart wants what it wants.

An Unheard Song

Searching for the last verse of depth, to hold on
I sang an unheard song.
Climbing the fallen steps and withdrawn,
There I crawled to, where I belong.

Not where,the sparks they fancy ,
But a blanket to keep warm.
Not there with rapturous joy,
But a bottomless calm.

An unrest of unfamiliar,
Kept pulling down
An unexpected
Stroke of novelty,
Painted a new dawn.

An eye that seeks,
And not one to look down
A brow that breeds ,
And not one to frown on

With A hand that holds,
A strength to look upon,
I found my restless feet,
Planted firm on the ground

Rising to windy heights
Seemed too trivial and forlorn
There I came to find my roots,
Spreading deep and growing strong.

Potato potato ching chong tomato

Oh my goodness I love poetry and writing, that's really all I do!