The Stars on her Black Dress

Almost a decade and there she hides,

Underneath the open skies.

Cognition failed to read her eyes,

When she glared upon the flawless night.

 
Another decade further drags of space elongating with time,

And there she hides, underneath the smoke in the skies,

The stars, she adored had locked their doors,

No cognition could now suffice,

For she fell in love, with a man who drew a tiny light

To heal the haze of the smoky night.

 
A few years to heal her lies,

A few kisses to fade her mind.

She was lost, from her journey to the stars,

For the light of the man was oblivion to let her feel the raging scars.

 
And then one night he left her there,

In the dark wilderness,

In love, dejected in despair.

She screamed, she cried,

She was lost in the dark night,

For no light and cognition could foretell her the dreamy lies.

 
It has been months, in the wild,

And I hope somehow, she reads this rhyme.

If not the black ink,

Then her own black threads,

The dress she wears in the dark times,

Will remind her of the decades that died.

 
When the glimpse of hope will hit her dress,

The spark will reflect the forgotten breath,

And when she reads,

Or when she stalls,

The glimpse will guide her to the hall.

 
Almost a decade and there she used to hide.

Never to be known,

Talking to the stars in the night.

 
This is where the ink shall dry,

The darkness shall collide,

And her face shall meet the dying the night,

With tears in her eyes,

She admires the stars,

With tears in her eyes,

She redeems the truth in her past.

 
Here, she lies underneath the skies,

Talking to the child, that was lost in the wild.

No drugs, no cognition can heal her eyes.

For, there is no flaw in the night.

 

 

 

 

Photography by SUBHI SACHAN

She has been the inspiration to many of the blogs on this website. Check out her amazing work here

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The Man of the Universe (Love story of a comet)

So, this planet was just not right for me,

Ah, the green was gone and what else does a comet look for,

I revolved around her affection for so long,

And at the end, she called it a lunar day, for my fall.

 

A simple human mind that stares each eye of the universe,

I call myself a comet that revolves and have the serenity to fall,

Gravity, they have, each beautiful planet around,

But rare, are the ones who can hold my crown.

 

They call me a mess, planet after planet, I address,

They call me the dreamer from the night,

Ah, they don’t know how passion ignite,

How dank it all felt, and then God pushed me away,

To adore the universe in gray.

 

I have this vision to dream, this magnet of sleep,

So, Yes I am hurt because of the ex-planet,

How beautiful yet deceiving her path around the sun,

I always suspected if she was the one.

 

Alas, in the darkness again, the bright light,

Going around galaxies to find my might,

Faith and orbits surround me as lovers,

Who kiss and leave me blind in colours.

 

Oh, is she a planet dressed in blue?

With the green on top of her mood?

Ah, I shall visit and find the cure,

For the light shall be bright on the shore.

 

And yes, I know my faith,

The day, she allows me to kiss her arm,

Is the day, we both shall die in the charm,

So beautiful, it will be, when we meet,

A staunch blast of light,

And we shall be one.

 

 

Dear Aries

Alive like the blood, Compelling as the rose.

It is all a simple rhythm to move along,

Maybe dance a little and colour the song,

It is the human nature to be adamant with prejudice,

Not for us, our senses can go beyond to empathise.

 

Peace is our stance while we listen,

And we expect the same from our whistle,

We may be horrid with the horns,

But often, humour can help you heal the wounds.

 

We are short-lived in anger and concern,

But the aesthetics shall remain and the future shall learn,

How trivial images can shape revolution for them all.

We hold the throne of lands on our head,

The passion that rules, hidden under the crest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Libra

We are blinded in tranquillity,

Surfacing the judgment from the canvas of the lost.

We run across intimate to their existence

Never to leave our trace in the thought.

 

Loyal as the wind, held by a storm,

Unknowingly affected by the sea,

Determined blindly by the play of a song,

We dance to the cause, only listening to the impact,

Rational verdicts that proclaim love as a fact.

 

Simple, yet complete, unlike the dreamer of the seas,

Our essence lies in the gravity,

The pull that enacts and justify each deed.

If you fall, only justice shall hear your call,

For I am the message that resonates the heartbeat in the fall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let ‘x’ Be the Human Mind

Let ‘x’ be a variable,

A variable, trying to find a constant coordinate,

Which plane where it may lie upon?

Is a question it trembles to undertake.

Let ‘x’ be named Satan, Subhi or Lakshay,

The former name blinded by the values of his freedom,

Subhi, a variable wondering where to land with its creative clay,

Lakshay, forming a hyperbola all the way from the negative planes.

One moment in the chemical curfew of the nerves,

The other,  assembling their existence on the physical planes.

Oh, let ‘x’ be a constant one day,

Away from the other factors of the world,

In a parallel plain,

Where greed, creativity and curiosity,

Will not find their stay,

A void to time, an empty room of incest,

Dreaming of the plane, where ‘x’ varies with names.

 

The Bodhi Tree

A daughter burned within the womb,

Born beautiful, yet barely alive,

Sits alone, on a tree that stood through the times,

When the fire had taken over my love for the lies.

I, named Amrapali, almost withered like the leaves,

Had to find an aura, an ocean that could heal through its site.

How beautiful, the root to the lotus would sit in tranquillity,

Guiding the likes of me towards the shore,

Through the clear waves from the universe,

Dementing the moulded clay of Karma.

The ocean, without the name,

Would ask us to close our eyes to feel the waves,

Powerful, healing to the core,

Where no name could suffice, but simply adore.

The names still ask if all I do is dream,

They call for Ajatshatru, They sing his deeds,

But how trivial the fire in the names and the place,

As if the hate co existed in the name of love,

Rather a blame from the faith?

Come dear names under the Peepal,

Where the ocean sits to adore the rain.

One Last Scream (Chester Bennington Persona Poem)

I hear more than my voice in those songs,

Somewhere, in between the screams,

A symphony would come to life and sing along.

I would stop, and wait for the wind to hit me,

But without the screams, I was alone,

So, I kept screaming till the verses came to live,

And heal the scars from the last night.

Many years and each night, so hollow,

A void within the blood, the rage I had to swallow.

With every single needle of the poison,

The blood would rush to the shore,

Where I could hold the melodious lore.

She would stay and enchant her rhymes,

But when the sun could burn the flesh,

She would die in agony of the screams and rest.

The poison had flushed my veins,

The music stayed, the blood is slowing down with grace,

Soon, I shall burn the sun,

As the ocean of the poison has overcome.

 

Image Courtesy: Google.