Poetic Chaos

Often, in my lone wanderings
As an observer of crude life
I found myself without bearings
Crossroads on the road to strife

I was buried deeper by society
Partaking in social events
I donned new faces and acts
Shuffling roles between pretends

Fed slowly the poison of taste
Gulped down by the wine divine
I summoned the satan in a haste
Told him ‘the pleasures are thine’

I grew by the fire and read
Myself in the shifting flames
Earning me, myself, a bread
While a while engaging in games.

In my lone wanderings
I often did realize
Speak and hear of it no more
To live and write shall be wise.

My Muse

Her silence,speaks volumes
In a symphony, like a tune
her anger says she loves hard,
her actions reveal her heart

Her fire measures her warmth
her eyes speak her story
she marks her presence faintly
committing her crime so saintly.

Her touch has lingered,
and it talks on about her
longing to feel once more,
the way she made me feel before.

Her laughter echoing,
Has left behind a smile
Now she is gone and I realise
That nothing anymore is worthwhile.

– Mayank ‘Sahar’ Mishra

The Last Season of Love

She held my heart till the very end,
crushing it since the moment I gave it
my heart, a broken machine, held in glass
hurt her soft palm and thin fingers,
the blood from my heart, combined
with the blood from her veins..
our minds tricked us far away
from each other’s gravity
but our hearts, faithful drums,
still beat and bleed the same..

                                    – sahar 

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

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.

Finish It.

You left me too explicit in love
Vulnerable to all its stormy nights
Stuck in a dream, shipwrecked.
But you too are implicit and will be
Wrought beneath my words
Like crushed fragrance of a flower
I will paint you in my poems
And skip the dream for real
Making you the meaning
My words would have died
Leaving behind
An unfinished poem…
….

Leaving behind 

All those stories we made together

All those thoughts shared

I was left with 

An unconditional love and lots of memories.

A Flock Of Emotions.

It’s just a start, things will drag on to far fetched destination..

we will walk on and cross realms beyond imagination…

Everyday asking the universe for a new relation..

we will walk long roads trotting in hesitation..

balking on banks on the road to perdition..

Till the road diverges again, breaking the tradition..

No blind beliefs, no sheep walk and no representation.

Burying past and luck, walk with me and defy predestination…

Can You Keep Up..?

“life has shown me 
perspectives and motions
made me hear, feel and see..
thoughts and notions..
ate many a poisonous weeds
juices and potions
learnt many a lesson of
regret and caution
it is all round and round
everything in motion..”

Change and Move-On.

For too long
I have lived
For approval
Fear and
Acceptance
Vanity has
Left me alone
And now I
Can’t be even
With myself.
For too long
We have been
Ruled and ordered
To live and dress
And walk and talk
And laugh and play
And listen and obey
In a certain
Way
For too long
I have been
Quiet and
Tormented
Questioning
Myself.
Searching
Answers for
Questions
I was
Asking
It is only
For too long
I have been
Without change
And I feel
It is certainly
The time
To move
On

Featured Poetry- by Henson Towne

Sometimes the best feelings are expressed in the simplest words. Just like Da Vinci spoke, “Simplicity is the best sophistication.”

This poem narrates the tragic scenario of two young friends getting separated and ultimately end up never saying hello again..

Around the Corner
Around the corner I have a friend,
in this great city that has no end.
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
and before I know it, a year is gone.

And I never see my old friends face,
for life is swift and a terrible race.
He knows I like him just as well,
as in the days when I rang his bell.

And he rang mine, if we were younger then,
and now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.

“Tomorrow” I say,” I will call on Jim”… ”
Just to show that I’m thinking of him”.
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
and distance between us grows.

Around the corner!- yet miles away,
“here’s a telegram sir” “Jim died today”.
And thats what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.

by: Henson Towne