Poetry of Routine : Finding loophole

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blood in my veins races in a loop

on infinity petals of a knot

a knot in muscle, a knot in tongue

feeding contortions of silence,

a caged hamster runs

to please, be pleased

now faltering for a breath

 

with binaries of extremes

the ends never meeting

to love, now unloved

I am a spinning spindle, beseeching

a preemption with the hand grazing

brooding over its fuzzy logic

let me hear myself say ‘what if’

 

I pine for a palpitation

a sigh, a smile or a shriek

identity of a throb from a tamed beat

it escapes me like that of barren lands

them who know naught of welcoming

never shall they grieve the frozen

never shall they thaw

 

©Written Frames, 2019

First in the series can be read here : Poetry of routine: The Crossing

one of them

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gushing wind and the cold night

no soul, no shadow by my side

it is deep and deadly dark inside

shuddering my self-pride,

spewing symptoms of inner blight

tears buffer in the eyes

pleading me guilty

crushing my assumed might

 

I think of the great good men

the hypocrites, all passing by

in their languid moves of pretense

betraying me with my knowledge

of who am I, but not one of them?

 

“Who are you?”

Do you ask yourself? I do.

 

Do I get my answers?

No. I choose not to.

 

in the dark, I see no one to blame onto

in its sheer silence, I hear no one to my rescue

distraction doesn’t come to me

I am hungry, I am starving, I am mortified

yet so reluctant to feed myself, I decry

having only my ego, my pride on the menu

by no means such hunger-pangs I shall abide

 

I sleep on it.

 

©Written Frames, 2019

The skill of escape is mastered by us all.

Lost and found

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inebriated

the bones shrouded by silence

head discoes to the drum roll

of inner swell that bangs

 

numbness, this numbness

eyes know not how to blink

shred and scrap from the red roof falls

a heart with a limp is dragged

 

destruction, destruction

thumps and thuds of caustic silence

the bod swings on a blue tide so high

unleash the eruption within, gush out

 

deafening disquietude

these cues of un-spelled languages

sear the tongue succumbed to smoky distaste

dry cough of doubt with finesse

 

welcome, o welcome

leak from a faucet so worn out drips

ticking clock and creak of closing doors

shift of focus relieves

 

submissive invasion

into nothingness, escape from oneself

everything to find where one would be self

the noise shushed by intruders

 

sleep now

 

Written Frames, 2018

Escape

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bars before me
bars before you

and your back towards me

I cannot reach you
you cannot leave me

yet,

we need to escape

this delusion of bond
this helplessness of belonging
this cry of carried away hearts

and,

the soul threaded to the glory of past

we relinquished long back
love evaporated from finest of cracks

emerge out of this attire of attachment !!

©Written Frames, 2017

A Silent Wish

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To feel less

sorry of your mistakes,

your never ending excuses

The way you always make me wait,

All the plans you make-

Promises to spend time together

-Pity! you are always late

You deny it,

That I am taken for granted

Indeed, that’s true mate.

Out of delicacy at heart

Somewhere, you did feel ashamed

However, afraid of self-blame

You launch a silent wish-

For me to act a little selfish,

With my failed foolish flaws

Grooved in my skin

I must wrong myself

With worldly baits

For you to feel less guilty

Of your ‘I’, ‘Me’ and ‘Myself’ traits.

 

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© Written Frames, 2017

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