Words

I live only to write. words are my little soldiers.here is one dedicated to them words.

“Words,
Somehow
Make me,
Break me.

It’s words
Only
Which I
Have,
to Give you.

Just words
To remind
To rewind
To the days
When you
and me,
Were us.

To take,
To break,
To make.
You are
The Nox,
A look of
Your grace;
Can bless
My days.

And meet
Me once
Again
by my
pillow.
You see
It’s hard to
Sleep alone.

I am far
In the sky.
Like the moon
And you are the
Endless night.
I will pass by
Every night
Through you.
Till you
Until you
eclipse Me.”

And my heartiest thanks to my readers. Without you I am nothing. 

Lost Hearts

Poetry is not an easy task. It is like learning to beat the storm when you are stuck in its eye. 

“And one night
When he and she were fast asleep
Their hearts armed with love
Gathered upon a pact to keep
Their bet on who loved harder
His heart talked till tire
Hers was a silent desire
Slowly the return to the start
When she was all fire
And he, only a silent desire
On the way back, the two humbled hearts
Forgot the way
And now
Hers beats in him
and his inside her.”

        – sahar 

A poll to check the status of poetry reading and writing in India.

The Look Back.

Among few things there is no binding,
no divisions, neither any surrounding
Life is round , so is the world,
So went the last year in rounding
Measured quantities of sharp emotions
with discontent and hued notions.
Becoming more mechanic each day.
I survive and dine on potions..
it all went, it all then came…
There was happiness, there was pain
What stayed was the worthless moment,
passed away often in vain !
wisdom arrived disguised in experiences,
cruel and striking at the heart,
taking away each time 
a part of me cut apart.
The raging past reminds me again
to redeem that which was lost
To rise and walk again
and bury the sins of the past.”
                        – Mayank ‘sahar’ Mishra

Flow Of My Poetry

The flow of my poetry is such
It always wonders to the source
Of words and the feelings which
Governs them.

The genesis of a stream of thought
Behind from her smiling eyes wrought
With thundering emotions and
Acceptance of errors.

The midlife begins to describe
The deeper wedges driven into this heart
As poetry ages and matures
A thousand sufferings it endures

My poetry is sublime and eternal
Flowing from a deep valley
Soaring to the mountains
A flood of emotions it entails
The flow of poetry is not much

It stops with the thoughtlessness
And the thoughts about which it had all been
They are born and killed for you every moment.

creator: Sahar.

A Poem for Poems

“If one day,
your thoughts are free
then don’t stop amigo
be all you want to be.

If one day,
all your emotions,stand
in your way then
master them today.

If one day,
your pen bleeds like humans.
know this , your words
they only suffer your deeds.

If one day,
you write too much,
and write all your heart out
as all my days are such

Then, do not let your poetry
lack words or alphabets
for they are only tools
and poets are only fools.”

 

 – Mayank “Sahar” Mishra

The Girl of my Poems 

There is a girl who gives me poems
In the night or early morning
I hear her silent whisper
Calling my soul away from
The night to the lovely dawn

The girl she gives me my poems
She is a distant dream
No phrases can match her
No metaphors or similes
Let her float in the skies
For another eerie night
The girl with the words of my poems
Her magic is violent
A collision of galaxies
Like my thoughts are dust
Her breath is the light in stars
The poet in me is free as
Her touch varies in degrees
The girl like the words of my poems
She left me no rule to follow
Making and unmaking me again
A silent trail of woven words
Like petals strewn on the roads
To the palace where she rests
A path the poet must take always She is the girl of my poems.