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 

Multiverse

I have seen a
universe of universes,
and a universe of universes
of universes too.

Forgive me if I am
a bit repetitive,
cause I have been through
that cycle too.

They say life is a circle,
it is rather a sphere,
infinities among zeroes
vibrations intersecting everywhere.

you should move on
like I did,
and I am sure you too
will end up somewhere.

It works as
means of extremes.
peacefully laying
down its schemes.

We are little instances
echoes of reminiscences
miniature models
in the grandest themes.
we are nothing but
simply light beams.

we are fair and just
like the stardust
swinging away in space
I am the fading face.

I wonder why ?
my song is sad
my poetry is lonely
my words are mad.

I call it a dark night.
there is no need
to seek the light.
for now darkness shall lead
you to discover its secrets
until the sun rises.

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 

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.