Un Voyage

From this word, I breathe to lie,

To the world an illusion and to me, myself.

A world that appears to live with your mind,

With each word that you read,

My lie elaborates a reason to live.

Now that we are together,

You and me, lets embrace my visions though your eyes,

I will write about the sunset,

And you cry out for the moon,

I will incarnate a feeling,

And you colour it within.

But, before we leave to this empty page,

You should know that I am here for the play,

I run away from my own desires,

and leave such thoughts to rust in deny,

And do we really need to rhyme our journey ?

And I should warn you again, my friend,

Dante never burned in hell.

It was the man who wanted the travel,

Lost and never to be found again.

If you are willing to come,

Let me tell you, the river often flies with the dead of love.

And now you are my creation, a song,

We can fly like a bird,

Die in another word,

Live like the Bhrama’s call,

Deceive the stars of destiny above.

A poet’s point being a puzzle,

What difference resides between a human and a word,

A word and a belief,

A lie and a truth,

Rather all began and die out lose?

I believe I am a word of my poet,

I will end within the verse of life,

Yes, with a meaning that only he will decide,

A lie, A thought, Just an inspiration to write.

Incarnation of The Words

 A little dwell on the pen to enumerate an expression,

To let the ghost be aware of the dark,

Or the dark be afraid of my ghost,

To entangle a hopeless vision and adore,

A million feelings that knock my door.

A poet, they say need the cry of the muse,

But will they ever know the secret of the doom?

For every time, I lose myself into the room of words,

I call upon a thousand spirits,

To guide my hands and spell the right song.

Enumerating through my past,

The affair of the ink to last,

To repeat the same sentiment of my greed,

I befoul myself into a clown.

To paint me in the ink and enrol the aura of belief,

A poet, they say need the cry of the muse,

But who am I to lie?

I can only wonder and host a point of view.

Deception

  My friend is driven through the lore,

My own self, hidden inside a dark robe,

The mighty exploration of the song

is to him the opiate of this play,

he explores and wonders night and day,

questioning the stars, asking for his name.

” I am the master of my trail,

I have discovered elements,

I am mended with the sky,

But I wonder how to derive

The arduous descent of my life.

Maybe, the world I see is all that is to believe?

My amorous stakes of the need,

My quest can never be deceived,

Of all that I have lost or found,

One thing has been my evasive need,

A desire to dream and bleed with the melodies of possibilities.

I will wonder throughout the fall,

Will look at the moon and dance till I fall,

For my descent is yet to announce,

The vast ocean, self-less and unbound.

I would rather decay in the morn of my defeat,

Then to be obsolete from the dilemma of my deeds.”

To him, the world was an endless hymn,

To him, the moon merely replied,

” Call upon yourself inside,

The lore would bundle your shine,

The descent of the space and time,

All hidden in an empty line,

For when you dance, I seek the night sea,

Pull the river sheets to fall a tide beneath,

The tide shall rotate the wind aloud,

And when you dance, my command shall reach its sound,

You are, the very core to me,

The friend lost in a puzzle with the false clay of need,

Icarus could not fly to me, He was lost within the only sea,

 Why don’t you wake up from the dream beneath,

And know yourself, how oblique is the sight of the dream.

One equation for all the falls,

solve the myriad of the lost accord,

Call upon the wind you breathe,

And decipher yourself, as the leave that dances with the breeze.”

That one incentive drowned his opiate into the river,

He woke up to find me bleed,

For he is red in the river, silenced from the dark isolation,

And I fly through the lakes of redemption,

I was the moon that heard the lore,

And brought the quest into the shore.

I am your name and the name of the hold,

I am the one who never bends with time,

or rhyme in the deceiving space,

The lie that the nature erased.

Nemesis

Enumerating through the flaws of time,

Travelling through the valleys, evasive to life,

To hold my spirit, to escape the night,

I blend my thoughts into the mirror of lies.

For you and me, we feel our might,

The might that surfaced through the ghost of fate,

The fate that never reaches the aesthetic lake,

The lake of magic, the embodiment that shifted the stars away.

For Nemesis shall call my Narcissus to the shore,

Where I will die to my illusive adore,

For the wind shall pour me to my bed,

To sleep and breathe, To heal and forget:

The might that corrupted my senses and name.

The narcissist’s blood to meet the lake,

The spirit to blend into the essence of escape,

The world that does not rise or die,

The place of death, the doom of lie,

Adore me then, when ‘I’ fly high,

Invisible, and without the need of pride.

The red that defined my faith at the time,

The black that retreats the illusion to the light.

Naissance Dans Les Paroles

Vous? Avez vous vole dans ce ciel?

Si! Vous avez des ailes de paroles.

From the reverberance of the soul,

To the elusive rhythms of the globe,

I traveled from word to word,

Born with a vernacular of nature,

Driven to the valleys of the world,

Brought up with lures and notes,

Mysteries unraveled and grabbed my thoughts with sigh,

Till I rest and escape back to the reverberance of the sky.

The wings of the words, flying over the verse of life,

With colours blended into the flight,

Rather fading as we reach the sky,

At the end of this poem we meet,

As one, with no words left to escape the lie,

But we look at the naked night of the space,

Where the words had no religion or race,

Blind on the surface we were left to die,

Fly out to the truth of this verse,

Break through the bonds of the world.

A Dream to Die 

Epigraph :

And if I were dead tonight,

where would be your first cry?

Would it be on the phone?
Or while scrambling a piece of note?

Would it be on your way to home?
Or after I am buried?

Would it be in your dreams?
Or would you drink all that pain,

and not cry a tear?

And if I made through tonight,
where would you want to kiss me

one more time?

Would it on my eyes?
Or would you just blink your eyes?

Would you peck my cheeks?
Or pull them softly?

Would you kiss my lips?
Or mouth a ‘Thank you, God’

on my behalf?

And if I faded away,
would you come to take me away?

Would you make through
the limbo?

Or would you just

bid me a final goodbye?

What will I leave behind? I ask.
And I look back in the past,

and I see nothing good,

but pain and suffering.

• Poem by Omair | Instagram: @thescribbledstories

—————————————————————
My friend, do you know the realm of life ?

The realm holds the universe in the darkest nights,

Is it love or is it death ?

Is it the sky or the inmate jest ?

You are the feather to the realm,

More pleasing then death,

But illusive in strength,

I would cry for the only thing that rotates our life,

The very moment I get to know,

And maybe they don’t even have to tell,

Because my wings will be cut short,

I wont fly anymore, for my feather will morn,

And if it stay, why will I just kiss ?

I will fly with it to the heights in our cliche .

You may not understand my inmate partner,

But we hold a fiction note to write the realm of life,

In that fictional song, I hold a feather to write ,

The story true to the lie,

A lullaby, it will make us sleep in no time,

But when we wake up from the beautiful dream I draw,

We will be no more the same ,

We will be the realm of the game,

We will be with the one who designed the play,

So you know who we are ?

A portal to another star !

Not kiss, but fly to the place far away in our dreams,

Not waiting for death, but expecting it to wake us from our sleep,

To rejoice, my love , rejoice the need.

Link & Credits for Epigraph :https://www.facebook.com/TheScribbledStories/?fref=nf

Her Green Eyes

Assembling the puzzle pieces onto a story,

I reckoned how those hallways held my breathe,

How I used to be lost in the long trees in the rooms

Where lullabies were sung with alien threats,

My heart would rest my mind with the green,

And suddenly the lullaby will break into a scream,

My mentors would leave me to the crux,

But respect the notion of my love,

Ah! She was another thing of beauty that provoked,

A million dreams out on the road,

I could easily pass away myself onto her hair,

As if a slide to paradise,

A place with the smell of her smile,

Or rather a dream that alludes my green eyes.

The dreams were broken on commands,

The fear could only be defined as farce,

Broken onto the staircase for the demands,

With a team which made the farce end up as a laugh.

The days when I slipped over dreams to allusions,

And allusions to dreams, the child, the joy within me,

I reckon these thoughts and surface a smile,

When I think of the trees or her beautiful lies,

The trees are gone, with the wind adue!

With my love in the south, and my dreams in the room,

I look upon my school as a reflection of that night,

That blended the moon as a power of the divine.

I sang the verses of joy and sorrow,

I drank the colours of the world on the slab,

I laughed with my teachers on my lame plans,

And now I am here, with bits of reminiscence,

Hovering over my existence, defining the extradition of time,

Asking for that smile that never came through the mind,

But from the green and those beautiful lies.