Unknowingly

Standard

I wake up, vowing to live

mornings with missing eyelashes

 

knowing, I dream a lot

with dreams, I wish whatnot

 

if a lash lands on your palm; the chances,

forget not to blow it off

 

knowing, it is coming from me

a dandelion leaf of the magic foreseen

 

blown into the stardust of universe, and

song of connecting strings

 

we hold

unknowingly

 

It was already an hour into the new year and I could not hit the bed just then. My mind runs on a a poetic engine and a poem was so necessary to fuel it up into next gear.

Here is a poem to a year full of dreams and wishes to come true. Happy New Year pals!

❤ ❤

Every day is new and may you do something new each day. Make every moment count.

Lots of love and gratitude for your continuous support!

Hope you like the poem! ❤

 

©Written Frames, 2019

 

 

 

Make me believe

Standard

a multitude of leaves yellowed and dried

with a finger on lip

a few bit their tongue tip

doomed to be crushed, silently they lie

or am I deaf? No, none of them cried;

seasonally promised of rebirth-

they believed

 

so are we? we are parched and dried,

plucked from our hives, tired of our fights

flown off to faraway lands- barren and bare

no roots to provide refuge and no touch of care

will we ever bloom again?

do we deserve another shower of rain?

 

make me believe we do

I will bloom, I long for you.

 

To believe is not about what you think is right. To believe is to hang on to something you wish to exist.

To believe is to hope.

 

© Written Frames, 2018

ImageSource

Infinity

Standard

Just as I think I know what love is-

a single wide walkway ahead,

with sunflower shrubbery and butterfly wings

sky shines and the birds sing

a celestial staircase spiraling to clouds

 

Just as I brim with what love is-

lacustrine tranquility filling my eyes,

your slender fingers bewitch my lips-

hush my darling! hush, hush;

I’m a captive as your palm swings,

sweeping fog and mist;

my iris shrinking

 

Just as I know what design of love is

eleventy many of divergent paths unravel

flowers and wings from your palms blossom

prostrating towards horizon it waits

for we must walk such walks

sometime soon and awake

under sunlit lullabies

 

O sweetheart,

just as I think I know what love is

you give me millions reasons to believe,

there is more to it

there is always more to it

 

yet so grateful I feel

already

 

©Written Frames, 2018

Writing after a drought of almost two months… Not sure what left me, is it life or poetry!

Deluge

Standard

what are eyes without any light,

if not in love?

If not dreaming?

 

I am soaked in my bed

imbued with darkness all around

such is the roof I know

that cannot have my wanderings bound

 

there I see many suns rising

and many a moon does shine

eternal sprouting of yearning and ache,

satiates as a day breaks into infinite

 

the days we have spent,

and, yet a life to spend with you

 

singular is my love for you

with multitude of hues imparted

sky of my skin brims of love and rain

there rainbows gleam un-thwarted

 

rapacious is the deluge of my desires

thinking of you, longing for you

lower your embankments as I knock

as your heart echoes, ‘I love you too’

 

embrace me whole

drenching you, quenching you…

 

©Written Frames, 2018

Love and dreams know no bounds. It wanders in quest of passion and perseverance.

 

Perhaps

Standard

I,

the one who lose them,

they are known for years

 

they,

the ones who lose me alike

do they know me for years?

 

we intersect at a time,

else were the parallel lines,

where a bifurcation begins

 

yet we collide,

our hands held for a while

foreshadows a third road,

somewhere it to be laid

for us to walk together then

 

perhaps

 

we tread on a bridge of crumbling cards,

the game is lost since the start,

but, a few steps are firm to fall

only if we tell a spade from a heart,

as yearnings never forsake

a living hearth burning of love

 

perhaps”, I say

as my heart burns now

 

©Written Frames, 2018

Uncertainty is yet an another indication to your undeniable affinity towards the source of it.

 

 

 

 

 

Irony

Standard

often do I look up,

behold beyond my vision and height

teetering trail of hallucinated,

heedless of the feet stiffened

walk of the terrestrial trammeled by traps

notice not the blood and bruise, such a façade

for a fantast willing to assess the skies

vigilant to the wings, I’m meant to fly

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

like a child

with a virtuous visual of everything

feasible is all, not timid to overthink

flapping the limbs, cape of certainty flutters

leaps forward with a swing, and slips

the fall of the persistent, dust off the cheeks

ready to leap, back to his feet

thus pitied, the mother’s rush to rescue

she signals to the scraped knees

 

now he weeps,

dousing the hiccups of dreaming…

 

©Written Frames, 2018

 

The more we claim to be rational and wise, the more we are calculative of the fall; reluctant to attempt for once more…..