Ode To The-Bench.

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The grey bench memoir of sacrosanct tales

with the rustle of our love-making

or the infinite stories of heart-breaking

this was all here, on this grey bench

surrounded by the cacophony of night intruders,

the morning walkers

the passersby.

In the wake of rupturing seeds,

the golden cover across the field,

the witnesses,

forming a twirl up and down, side by side,

over the bench,

inside the soul,

like the romancing of snow with the cold breeze

I feel the repeats even today,

like the soft rocking to the baby.

The flashbacks can be brutal

the way ink sucked out of the paper

making the glance ghostly.

The bench knows the melange

a potpourri of stars and thunders.

It was all here,

it is here.

You serve like a sweet blend

the merry making.

the ice-breaker. 




As I write..

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The intoxication within is powerful enough to infuse my pen with the darkest of tales to tell,

my heart is surreptitious at times,hiding even the lamest of smiles,

as I write,the emotions open up like blooming of blue-bells,now I know what all troubled me,

The white sheet was  dark before my ink decorated it with my diverse butterflies;

The sheet is adorned not with dust but with cuts of heart,

as I write,I learn the truth..

and so my pen does not halts,

I write..and write.

What’s new?Nothing!

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So,my blog is having a block and I have realised my new work is not as good as the previous work.My imaginary friend’s ain’t talking to me,as a result I could not produce anything substantial and the thing is I do not feel bad or something because,I know when I will be back..I will be back with amazing write-ups.Life is quite boring as for now,no blossoming poetries are emerging.Dull!!!

I cannot write anything more even now.That’s all!haha.

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Related imageI breathe in thy dry soil,no human smiles, no playful hearts for real.

The water I drink gives me questions,the roads I walk gives a queer feeling.

Some give flowers whilst some give cruelty,

The triumph breeze calms me in that moment,making me sublime.

The naivety I carry is concisely mine,

I am the creator and the care-taker,

In thy shambolic time,poetry is my wine.

like two hearts connected for eternity with no cause,

or like the great romance that gives spark to the followers,

poetry is mine..poetry is in me.

I absorb the virtue of it..I eat it and live it.

Pablo Neruda-The greatest of all.

Hola to you all!

This post is going to be all about my love and respect for the chilean writer Pablo Neruda,a poet-diplomat and a politician.His work is divine,religious for me.The translations are so much intense and intriguing for a poet like me.My inspiration for seeking life,love is inspired from this man.His pen wrote all the mysteries in an artistic way that provokes all the happiness,self-actualization in brevity.Words become holy,if it is him.Image result for pablo neruda

I aim to cherish his work till eternity.If you doubt on me,dear readers..see for your own eyes then.

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If I could be a trace of his work,I for once I could have a glance for his pen..my entire universe shall be cherished like a candle producing light.

Thankyou Mr.Neruda.You shall be always respected.


Romance with my Pen.

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As my pen writes,new emotions opens up,sometimes sad and sometimes jovial.The ink is like my blood that flows in me,for that is the most precious gem that keeps my mind going.The blank sheet is like my life,in which I decide to write the uncountable chapters of mirth or even cry.I shatter at times and become warrior at times,the words are my home that clings my mind within so deep and intact.The flow of my thoughts flow seamlessly on that paper,as the darkest of my pain reveals in that sheet.It is wonderous to know how that soothes my heart,perhaps my pen says the strongest of my dark shades.

The bliss of my heart flourishes and ravish flawlessly on that paper,the ink bleeds and bleeds.. like the flow of vigorous river.The turmoil at times degrades my solace,yet my pen resonates that impeccably the time I write.My numbness finds it peace as I draft it on that paper like the uncountable stars present in the sky.When I hold thy pen,it kisses my breath and instills me with faith..tells me untold mystic secrets and mollify the unbearable pain,the charm of writing carries me to unsaid period of consolation.

The voice within me muddles my mind and questions my soul so I make romance with my writing to calm me down ..to soothe my bones for the upcoming days shall again whither my heart making it dull and insipid.

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