Cataclysmic Bleach
Lying on the meadows or on the cold floor,
She ceaselessly inquest in herself the shambles,
She speaks flawless with no rumbles,
She seems outstanding with shimmering dissembles.
Withered away is her cherishing hopes,
She nurtures neither desire nor dreams,
The world being a black and white TV,
She could visualise everything except the variety shades.
Her eyes are all confused covered with mist,
Her heart is numb like stones with torment,
She looks tough like rugged stones,
Rolling down and breaking into mere dust.
The Gravel
The gravel endures in this glimmery-gloomy world,
The miniature gravel among millions lies on the ocean gate,
Every time shattered whenever lies a gigantic footstep on it,
Heaved away everything by millions of brutal footsteps.
A day will appear when swallowed it will be by the moana,
Each mortal kicked the peebles unknowingly,
Cherished it was when children collected me in mud jorums,
Today the gravel lies at the deaths door exhaling.
Today it exists in the dark silent night,
Beneath giant layers of rock salt and water,
Kicked it was in the dark suppressing world,
The gravel lies dead when opened was the death door.
Archdukes of the Moon
Shimmering like golden glitters,
The moon with it's bright white glown,
The clouds glancing with hearts on its eyes,
At the magnificent sovereign of the night sky.
When she perches on her dark grey throne,
The clouds throng around the sovereign majestically,
Then a battle when called by the thunder,
The archdukes encircles the sovereign caressing gently.
The archdukes protecting with its unbreakable shield,
Wishing to unburden the lady of glow,
The storms struggling to batter and bruise,
They cannot, until stands against these eminent soldiers.
These grey soldier's promising to retain her serene smile,
Protecting her ardently like the fierce lion with roar,
Reassuring to serve the greatest basket of homage,
To the devine sovereign of the gloomy night sky.
When Sons Come Home
Ask not our jubilation when sons come home
All our illnesses vanish, we are two lovers young
Whistling quietly old country songs
Both lost in our own dream world
Pondering to spend time with our boys
These few days together are the best time to enjoy
Should we go to the market to buy them toys
A round big football, or a drum set that makes much noise
Or take them to a park, and let them play and run
Hold their hands and walk in the sun
Or perhaps going to a theatre would be much fun
Together we’ll have chips and cokes
Buy sour candies and sweet lollipops
O when boys come home, our spirits become high
Winged our feet, as if we’ll fly
Cheerful our days, no lament and cry
All darkness dissipates, and the sun shines bright
Each corner of the house, laugh, and cheers
Hearts so light, age reverted by years
What magic ensues, when sons come home
Our overflowing happiness, the skies can’t hold.
The Kingdom of the Lost
time has elapsed
but the wind has not blown,
in this static serendipity
there is nothing that is known.
once a king ruled these lands
demolition and stagnancy are all that’s left,
the kingdom people were kind
that was almost blind,
the words are gone too along with their mouths
all that is left ponders: was there a drought?
I ask God what truly happened
he looks down upon me with a smirk ish smile,
Oh, I wonder why it’s gone
in this static serendipity
there is nothing that is known.
Two Soldiers
A tale of two soldiers
In a combat of prestige-
A veteran of creed
And an artist dishonoured,
Battling the field of worldly misery
On a twisted ground,
In a tower of deceit.
One says carved is the road we must take.
To honour, to glory and traditions we’ve made.
The path undisclosed should remain the path untold
For hidden are the sins and the unholy behold.
Well known is the account of naive Pandora,
That tells the unknown’s a box full of evils.
The other says, the box held hope in its womb
For if not opened an essential flower wouldn’t bloom.
The path undisclosed is the path untaken
Of liberal and humane morals unawakened.
Afraid are ones who refrain from creation
Wars are won by valour and valour cannot be forsaken.
A war is wherein the misfortune lies amused and unshaken.
If a war is an answer to questions so cryptic
There rests a disruption in the minds of warriors so sadistic
For distress happens when discussions mislead-
It’s not a chess of glory, not rules to conquer as many
It isn’t a black-and-white win, it’s a grey harmony.
The D Phase......
Uncertain about the future
Difficulties remembering the past
Don’t know what made the present so depressed
They say pen down your problems
As the problem is half-solved that way
But you don’t know what the problem says
I wish I could express myself in a better way,
But for what I go through my expressions fail
The test reports confirming depression is what they say.
Still, I love the way anti-depressants make me feel
Energised, fresh, less of a headache; crying spells, gained appetite, and no somatic pains.
It seems a little, but for what you go through physiologically is a dynamic
And for once it all needs to end, for a better future to begin.
We Too Have Tears
We too have tears,
We too have pain.
We too have life
O man..
When you hit us with stones
When you cut us for your needs
We too have anger
We too have pain
When you pluck my babies
When you take them assay from us.
Do not kill our dreams
Do not kill our hopes
Do not kill our happiness..
We too want to live.
We too have right to live..
Be with us.. Be with us..
A mother’s embrace
When life is a war zone,
People around are armed and ready to take a fight ,
But you are unarmed ,
Looking for a place to hide ,
Let alone the opinions of people to be brave ,
But eventually the child inside you will look ,
For a life saviour who doesn’t fear even to die ,
The one who keeps you in womb for nine months ,
Connects with you emotionally,
Becomes your best friend and a secret keeper,
All the small things matters for that, Woman whom we call as mother ,
The first step ,
The first word or anything that is involved,
And relates you with her ,
Those consoling hugs and comfort in the time of stress ,
And the sight of her being proud of you ,
When achievements come into picture ,
Such is the selfless love of a mother ,
Whenever the child is sick ,
The mother sacrifices her own sleep ,
In order to be beside the child ,
Whenever immediately required,
Can anyone’s love to be more great ,
That great to an extent,
Beyond the excellence and universe ,
Said to be the representative of god ,
But any mother is beyond this ,
An emotion which is eternal,
Whose love isn’t measured but felt ,
A mother’s embrace,
Is a blessing after doing something good ,
The previous life and beyond that .
The Moment
The moment we get desperate, we lose,
Patience, that’s what we have to choose,
The moment we lie we get locked,
Honesty that’s what to be stocked,
The moment we make a mistake we have to think,
Introspection, that’s what to our soul we have to link,
The moment we get depressed we have to stop,
Overthinking, that’s what we need, to mop,
The filthy floor of our mind that doesn’t say nope,
The moment we die we live in this world,
Provided our work must be generous not to be hurled,
The moment we live in the moment,
We stop whining we stop resent.
YOU ARE READING
Sort Of Lost
PoesieSpoken straight from the heart, these poems can only be classified under the umbrella of emotions of life and hope. Unbounded by any serious topic, 𝙎𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙇𝙤𝙨𝙩 explores life and it's facets. These poems are more than lines and words descr...
