Time Again

There is no stopping time

No turning back or

Jumping ahead the needles

There is no stocking

No transferring of it.

It is yours if you

simply relate to it

Else it simply adds

To the wistful moments

We called life

Tick-tock as the clock

Unleashes end in

Every beginning of

This new moment.

To feel time again

Rising from death

Embrace dark space

And time is real again

  • 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

Resolute

There I was
In the darkness
Of the lovely night
And my shady brother
breaking the first of my last resolutions.

Together
Hammered
Hand in hand
With fleeting desires
Breaking past the uncounted revolutions.

I was freeing
Myself, from my soul
I hope to destroy
Myself and make me again
Dreaming ahead of the quiet demolitions.

Rebuilding I am
A making, a beginning
Misguided in the unknown
I am a ‘knowing’ myself
Beginning at the hint of all tribulations.

                                         

            -Mayank ‘sahar’ Mishra

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 

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.

Charles Bukowski

I am glad I met him, as one poet who meets another.

For The Foxes

don’t feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.
be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain
who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.
juggling mates
and
attitudes
their
confusion is
constant
and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.
beware of them:

one of their
key words is
“love.”
and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.
don’t feel sorry for me
because I am alone
for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.

they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.

  • Charles Bukowski