Irony

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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…..

Pure

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nobody is right, nobody is wrong

in the wrong, we find right

and in the right, a wrong

 

rippled in mirages is morality

a fallacy adorned with adulation

the far we have come, where

everybody is right with modest wrong

pure is not pure, but adulterated

 

produce of over-trodden land

infused with sweetener and pest control

adulterated is new pure, a new want

ample fruit bearing of modelled green

so sweet, so delectable

 

 

PS. If not poetry, what else will qualify to refine the effervescence of wandering thoughts. The thought of good and bad is perennial and keeps you in loop forever. I wonder if to do wrong is a new want, a new desire, adapting to the rainbow of attributes that a heart casts and breathes perfection to survive the modern. All white is outdated, when we have all the colors to play with.

 We are neither right, nor wrong. We are right in wrong and wrong in right. We are adulterated and it is the purest form of us.

 

©Written Frames, 2018

Pic credit goes to my dear friend Diana. Thank you!

 

Ongoing

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receding waves vowed to hit

seashore rimmed with onlookers

impressions of steady feet are moist

earth of my body powders and slips in

 

from the earth, to the earth

circle of living profuse in pavements

fragments deposited with flow of time

a new arc, a new phase of life

 

a sediment hither

I settle here for the time

 

©Written Frames, 2018

 

Crime

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Confess that bed bedeviled with lassitude

Encumbers the body rooted to ground of ash

Procession of the soul harangued to death

 

Thick ropes of hair sprawl on the cold limbs

A strand swells and strains the lips, says “sshhhhh . . . “

Eyes known of crime are shut in its cavern

 

Strangulated expiation of the forlorn heart

Venomous claws of the constant, infuse all blue

Specked and tattooed with the dark and sewn

 

Blackmailed into surrender by the fear of fate

The will is murdered, robbed you of your spine

Curl up into bull’s eye targeted by flawless time

 

Crime is not to have a life

But have nothing to live for

 

©Written Frames, 2018

Another day

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Squinting eyes upon you

As you quieten under the curtail so heavy and dark

Aspiration of first rays to greet me

Knock at my closed doors

To kiss me through the crevices of time so gone

Oh perhaps! soldered around me is an unseen wall, held you unmoved

My delusional comfort with night prolongs this life of lies

I could not listen you say

Wake up… wake up now….

 

Eyes prostrating upon you

Your arms bloom to clench the wide skies

You blink in approval to my wishful cry

Dance of fire in between the silence of smothered and a chaotic heart

To weave a victory from thread of dreams of endeavor

You smolder a spark that puts within

So a duel with the encrusting twilight provoked

Wake up… you wake up now….

 

Another day is gone

Flourishing this drought in eyes so bled on your farewell

The usual knocks answered with silence

 

I didn’t wake up

O I just didn’t

 

©Written Frames, 2018

Shades And Tints

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A coiled convolution, not checkered skin with monochrome base

We don’t breathe black or white but radiant fire

Heap of hues stacked to slip beneath our foot

Shade by shade, garnishes the path we take and walk

 

Yes, we are shades and tints, never a color

A call for a choice what attracts and repels

To color a leaf spring green or of autumn-ash

Pick a pastel and paint the experience of this landscape

 

We ain’t black or white tinned, this skin of vanilla shade

Circumstantial bad and good, love and hate

Suit of first hues unraveled define us in their eyes

Wait for us to dye in different blush before you judge us away

 

Yes, we are shades and tints on trial

Aim to fuse into earth toned, blooming colorful flowers

With running blue and swaying greens, of bright beams through the grey clouds of destiny

To be loved by the bodies pigmented in the colors of different direction they walk

 

adapting and accepting

 

© Written Frames, 2018