The Midnight Werewoman

Once upon a nightmare,
Under the oak tree,
Gazing the October sky,
Painted darker than black,
I flumped onto the blood-red ground beneath me,
Oozing melancholy of my gifted wounds,
Asalia tears betraying my iris-coloured iris,
And falling down on my lonely scintilla.
The cold breeze ruffling through my grey furs,
The rust lining my spine,
The blackened sharp nails with bits of flesh,
My intangible ugly halo shining bright.
The darkness of this light hurts me,
What am I?
The screaming pain in my bones,
Every full moon,
Splitting my soul, one by two,
And every time,
The tinted truth in the glow of this darkness,
Petrifies me, haunts me,
The slices of life, smeared with death around me,
The instant burning rage,
When I switch into this animal,
Failing to realise,
The shrieking mistakes,
The apologies lodged in my throat,
The wailing human soul of mine,
Through crevices in my heart,
Can I still be forgiven?
This isn’t my choice,
It’s the nature’s imprisonment to me,
The waning hues each time.
The lone wolf in me is still breathing,
Weary and frazzled,
Curled up in her furs,
My human side struggling to take over now,
Waiting for the Night’s final veil,
Perhaps, it’s over for tonight,
As I see the sun rising,
I notice my white skin coming back,
I’m human now,
Till the next full moon,
Once upon another nightmare,
A werewolf and her hopeless despair.
            
-Manu

Few but all things will change

Few but all things will change,
after this night of nightmares ends,
the way we looked at the world and now we do,
the death that seems new normal will haunt;
the path we mustn’t have taken,
the dread of death must have been stopped.

The boundary-wall of blood weaving its height
and never looks down,
the sprawling hands of death catching the light:
an eagle who scavenge in town,
Nothing to spare but to kill and drink,
the blood of smiles, and flesh of hopes.

This darkness in lights and everything seems bright,
so bright to see them tomorrow and day after,
the passing days and unbearable tides.

The crushed tomorrow and cursed today,
the night of deaths and moaning days,
a death as dust and a thought embedded:
nothing ever last is and it shall go,
but imprinted on hearts will never fade away.

IF I POETISE A MOTHER..

Eyes that shine with experience,
Wrinkled lines on the forehead,
Subtle and solemn face
that hides fears,
And Smile of a silly teenager.
Eyelashes wet with worries,
Some silvery hair strands waving out,
Endless prayers of well being,
She recites
And sole responsibility of hers,
She believes,
To seed happiness into lives of loved.
O! Maybe the angel itself has taken birth
In human form,
To set free the mortals
From worldly tribulations.
Indeed She is a mother.

What’s a world without the gentle caressing of a mother….?

She’s the one who shows the least pain when we fell and have a wound. She hides her worries for you. She is the one who stays up late just so you could complete your studying for the examination next day

When you grow up in a teenager, she deals with your new grumpy side where you say idiotic things to her, she never even take those words and stick to them and be mad at you for your whole life. Still she is the one who helps us when we have an emotional side up on.

And when you do grow into a beautiful woman or a handsome man, she gets filled up in pride and watches you carry out your life as perfectly as she aspired.

In and all, she spends her whole life growing you and then when she leaves this world, she is all satisfied and contented as she completed as sole responsibility.

A little tribute to our mothers.

A FAMILY, NOT AT HOME | FRIENDSHIP DAY SPECIAL | POEM

Shared, Cared, celebrated,
the moments of fallen days,
nostalgically memorized,
some path traveled with an army of own,
the ruling legends, a family, not at home.
A group of persons,
met in different phases of life,
a stranger at first,
and a friend at the end.
some met at childhood,
some at young
and some will be with me until I die.
They taught and learned,
lessons and chapters,
of life and lies,
the funny, the funky,
bros and sis of mine.
With pros and cons,
with twists and turns,
we burn a lot, we fought a lot
and survived, at the best of all.
we had hard times,
we had best times,
we are growing,
we’ll have more times.
Let’s not thank,
just live along.
If life got a second,
from its end,
Let us ask for, one more friend.
HAPPY FRIENDSHIP DAY

Read complete poem here


DROPS OF THOUGHTS | AESTHETIC LINES

Few drops of unattended thoughts,
travel all the way from the clouds of imagination,
not entertaining,
but pertaining to something within,
falls on dry hearts.

Confluence of love | REPOST

The love of yours, To the love of mine,
The affinity of heart-beats, To remain alive.
The eyes of yours, And the eyes of mine,
Enough to see, The world of ourselves.
The arm of yours, To the arms of mine,
Enough to reside, For the whole of our lives.
The lip of yours, To the lips of mine,
A completeness, And cheers to the life.
Your trembling soul, To my closeness,
Your bowed eyes, And my yearning life,
Makes it adorn, The coveting soul of mine.

THE FABRICATED LURE

The divine ride of my bicycle through hazy humanity,
innocent replica of tomorrow how dim witted!!
slow-thicken and twisted, lullaby of lies we heard,
melody of myths, each passing day subsides.
the goodness, the beauty and the morale of life.
ashes, ashes, all fell down.

Then ticked on the Life’s clock, adult reality,
Full moon brings the darkest night agitated,
for people are bats who sleeps upside down,
they chant of modesty and truth fabricated,
Deadly roses, delicate and sublime,
The moment you see it, the moment you die.
Ashes, Ashes, all fell down.

Truth is the rotten dung in the dumpster,
Honesty is cowardice, love is miserable-lore,
For I know the truth of the selfish bones, I lie.
Assumptions, Beliefs and a relentless dream,
of an ethical, modest and fascinating us,
for you and I, we’re not the priest,
Ashes, Ashes, all fell down.


THE PEN OF CREATIONS

It’s enfolding, the forgotten me,
the dead me and the rising me,
a prose of love,
and some poetries of life.

It stretches me out,
from the life of hazards,
to the life of wonders.
Like a lyrics,
Written on breaths,
It sings inside,
to make a charm,
Blowing up the faces.

It feels the joy,
Of creating thoughts,
the ink of zeast,
Filled to the life,
Writing on the lives,
Of an small ant,
to huge vampires.

It surrenders to me,
the weapons of creativity,
To pave a way,
for a blind kid, like me
Who can’t see the life,
the life of wonders,
Filled with joy.

To the heaven, which is here,
And nothing is beyond,
it blow up the mind,
to fill the with lights,
The light of creativity,
for the lives with art.

PERHAPS | POEM

Premise
The possibilities of the livings drives them forward. With all the heart wrenching predicaments of life, they still breath, they still live it to the fullest…

Only in the glimmer of hopes…..the sparkles of probabilities….the happy ones, the fulfilling ones…All the hardships seems dwarf when the canvas of life projects beautiful prospects of future…

Especially to the ones which struggle to get mouthful of food….the shattered huts and the smelling arenas tell their stories of wrenched life….Still the poor lives…the eyes search for just one flicker of hope….flames of possibilities..

Here’s a piece to magnify this feeling….

“PERHAPS

Perhaps the armour of the poor
is just a myth…
Endless sufferings
And
Deep scratches on the soul,
Yes indeed, it’s a rippling lie…
The flashy cards flared up
and the hollow promises,
The deprived eyes
and the questioning faces,
The sunken cheeks
which not blushes pink,
The chapped lips,
Far from being scarlet.
The lost smiles
and the tarnished thoughts,
No cloudy dreams,
In vicious cycle, they’re caught..
Necessities turned into needs
Chirpings into wails,
Knowledge means nothing
And Oh! The ship that never sails..
Perhaps…
Or indeed, if I say,
The dreams of newborn,
In these shattered walls,
would end up in dismay…
Perhaps..


New Arrivals


                                              

“I do love you” |Poem

In midst of life,
In lies of the world,
In my craving thoughts,
I breathe of disguise,
I am not your worthy,
neither trust Worthy,
But I do love you.

For that reason,
Or for many reasons,
I blush at you, or
for silly jokes you have,
I might tell you some day,
Or may not tell you ever,
But I do love you.

There’re flowers I look at,
the same way I see you,
I smile for them,
I don’t touch them,
But I do love them.
The freshness I find in them,
I find in you.
For this reason,
maybe the only reason,
I do love you.

You know even if don’t,
I will continue loving you,
Like i’m standing
in the burning sun,
I feel no sun, but calmness,
For you’re standing,
in front of my eyes.

For the feel, no one does,
But I do.
For life no one have,
But I do.
In the pride of loving you I say,
I do love you.