Featured: Wattpad Poetry Feb 2022
My times spent having conversations about life, longing and love.....with myself.
In the company of solitude, I attempted to pen down a few lines on a range of emotions and experiences with a simple aim to revisit t...
If malice and envy were tangible and had a shape, it would be the shape of a crescent moon!
Standing on a mighty cliff, In the dark chill of night, I faced the full moon in awe, Raised my arms to reach the sky, Far behind and beyond, A shooting star left a sigh. But the moon stayed still and shy;
I open my heart to breathe it all, The symphony of lonely crickets in June, Rustling leaves beneath the brilliant moon, I hear the howl of crying wolves, All wailing and calling the Neptune.
Why is the moon so cruel? Howling wolves, raging tides, Broken hearts and werewolves. It behaves like a broken heart, Insolent, right & wrong is taken apart.
I shall, on one lonely night, Breathe in the entire moonlight, Leave it dark, empty and bare, White, it shall remain no more, Glory stripped, a naked dark sight.
Would that quench my insatiable thirst, hush the wailing wolves, quieten the raging waves, keep the werewolves within, and heal all the broken hearts?
Maybe...
But, to whom shall crickets talk? Holding hands, how shall the lovers walk? Would the wolves sleep and dream? Mute rivers, who shall hear them scream? And what of all the lonely stars? All our anguish & all the agonies - - to whom shall we give it all?
Oh, I can't, I will not murder it all! The moon, he suffers alone, The moon, he quietly takes it all.
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