how long shall we hold onto the flowers
once were silken, now crisp?
shall we carry it along, make it home
when houses are changed?
what the forgotten corner will do
voice the vanity of your proud days?
what dissent the potpourri shall bear
oft it muffles at the cries of joy
of fresh bouquets
arriving
now and then
© Written Frames, 2020
why don’t you look at me?
do you see demons in me?
and the demons of hurt ego you hide
you hide, is that what you want to be?
why don’t you talk to me?
is it the rattle and ring of words I may say, or my voice shrewd?
I am drilling holes in your gut and tongue
bittering your taste, mocking your permeating anger
why don’t you pick on me?
thrash me breathless with your slurring speech
your skin swamped with hot-spills of blood,
perforations with my name engraved oozing of it
talk to me, talk to me, talk to me
have I noticed before your clasped lips;
passively humming a song – let me be
trodden like an autumn leave, betrayed
let me be, let me be, let me be
catapulted on the shore naked
let me be, let me be, let me be
tell me
where does your moon-eclipsed eyes settle?
even the void in your smile matters
do not look away, hold me naive in your view
and know your name breathing on my tongue
resonating in my lungs, begging to stay
will you kiss me if I pucker my lips now?
will you poison my senses with sweet love?
birds in my heart still leave their nest
echo of conch shells summoning my respect
furtive glances capture you afar and worthy
I behest, smiling to my own a mercy
let me be, let me be, let me be
a seeker and you darling, why leave me thirsty?
©Written Frames, 2019
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
in teaching of life and its essentials
lessons of the heart were missed you say
O precious how it pains
failing at futile attempts to swot
what and whys of hearts as they beat
arcane claws of agony and woe
delphic to the hearts unknown,
oblivious to inarticulacy of voice and blood-
oft that swells and surges,
such denouement of love comes slow
eyes closed, let cascades flow-
drip and dribble on a clenched fist,
tugs at the chest as water grows
death-or-glory of a drowning earthbound,
there lays the hieroglyphic book on love closed
lessons of heart are learnt not,
but write in volumes yet unbind,
unwinding the epistles of longings
as autumn leaves crack with sunshine
encasing the passion of summer preserved
unwavering, unabashed and untaught
our story of love
we dare to write
on our own
no one can teach us how to love
©Written Frames, 2018
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
What shall I write to you, is there something you do not know?
What you breathe out is what I breathe in, is this how love grows?
What shall I read to you, is it my vocals that you desire?
Tuned to my heart rhythms, how you decipher my mute eyes on fire ….
Siege me, I am taken in your spell of us or have I been darn mistaken?
Your sweet touch lures me, I am a drooping sunflower so sun-forsaken ….
What shall I give to you, is it the tarnished me you long for?
I yield myself to you and will do, a word to you I give, if not more …..
©Written Frames, 2018
Not that I often write about you, but when I do it is always a poem.
Written Frames 
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