The Cosmos

I am a little whirlpool,

in a violent stream

Choked on my own

silent screams.

Moving through the crowd,

forlorn, for desires

I barter my dreams

My eyes ragged,

And so, is my jeans

So I Masquerade in

shady themes

I am a dark wave

shooting space.

So anachronistic in

These times extreme

Riding light through

space & time.

My soul is splitting

right at the seam.

Ramblings 1

I have been buzzing with questions

So silent and so Impatient

So loud and so volatile

I have yet much to decide

The paths that set me free

And the holes to the void

After all we will die

Leave immortality behind

And the dreams you dreamt

Time sweeps them aside..

The Wave of Discomfort

A serious phase is dawning on me

As I am being swept by this torrent

My mind is a little further from me

As I am fighting this current

The ones I love are drifting away

When they are gone,

I’ll lose my way

If not me, then who

Is controlling my fate

Who within me,

Is spreading this hate?

So long I surfed this wave

Now a new path I shall pave

For it is time to collect the bill

For everything I ever gave.

Unravelling Myself

I am unravelling myself

In Between events

Intercepting time and space

Unaware of my own

I am revealing myself

To myself in a mirror

And I find the reflection

Mystical in myriad ways

I am unknown

While I am knowing

That understanding

Is layered in time

In between events

Of absolutely

No importance!

~ sahar

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

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.