poetry

Poetry is what gets lost in translation

– Robert Frost

would you

would you … allow me to write – devour the blank pages? Inscribe the thunder of emotions translated into prose & verses.

embers & coals

alas! my ember of being slowly giving in; the passion that burns, how do I ignite and flame?

gazing at lightbulbs

It was a humid afternoon, sweltering by anyone’s standards. The room was filled with people grouped in their usual places, wrapped in the world of their collective making. The whole space was filled with noise, of thoughts rummaging through everyone’s head spoken clearly aloud. She was looking straight into his expressive eyes – a look…

at twenty five.

A period of confusion and epiphany, a small hurdle in the long run of fate. Is this the face of failure, shot in success – oh such feeling of youth, full of unrest.

ruby woo

lacquer in ruby woo, scarlet, a real damsel’s weapon. the dark, alluring simper, her greatest poison.

inside a closed room

A faint light is trying to seep in through the curtains draped with flower patterns of blue and green. The air felt damp – it has been drizzling all night again. Her room sets a scene of a melancholic view – the way the light touches the deep blue wall, the feeling of sadness eminent…

words enchanting

Years passed, caged in an enchanted sleep; Yet in this magical night, and the splendor of words, ignites the sleeping beast

one of those nights

Trying times, jaded mind, the white canvas, blank lines my bunker underneath this mess.

what the mirror showed

She stared at the mirror, familiarizing her every feature. Trying to hold on to her own identity, the one unstained and untouched by him.

smothered

must’ve been kismet, or call it fate maybe just my own sinful measure.

let the bull win

The chance I see is all it takes, my fate about to be etched forever. A white knight riding before me, an opportunity to seize – I’m ready.

alternate reality

In a parallel universe, colliding you and I – freezing, stopping clocks;

how free?

How does one use this privilege, this fought and died for – power?

where do i start?

Do I begin in the line where I’ve stopped? Do I start in the midst of the troubled now?

closed eyes

such sweet mem’ry envelops me – our lost love, forever haunting still.