Exalt

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I laugh and float leisurely,

The waves effortlessly carry my weight,

Of dreams and desires, of yearnings and passions, of joys and euphoria.

I dissolve into the salts of the ocean,

Nameless and formless like the ones before me,

With the same sigh of relief and perhaps a different gasp of rapture.

I ride out the wave of joy until it consumes me.

Not a wisp remains of my existence for that beat of time,

And the tide slows to a heartbeat, as the earth’s axis rights itself.

In that moment, I am only unbridled happiness


 

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Into the Night

Capture: Hareesh R My campus <3 This was the view we had minus the sun
Capture: Hareesh R
My campus ❤ This was our view that night minus the sun plus the stars

Quiet footfalls sounded the moonless night

Leaving behind a trail of secretive laughter

Raced heartbeats and soft gasps made the climb

Disappearing up a ladder of hundred steps

.

Terrace was our private opera under the skies

Power of the molten stars flaring brightly

Countless shooting diamonds cutting pitch black

Softened wishes and desires were laid bare

.

A drink here and a munch there in the twilight

Sharing sweet nothings and whispered promises

Worldly matters were someplace far far away

Spread behind us like a dimly scattered dream

.

Deep breaths under the quilts lulled into calm

Sweet field, crossing between awake and asleep

Gazing into a sky losing its fight with the sun

Presenting a view of the future times to come


The last Poetics of this year at dVerse where we are writing about stars. I couldn’t help but talk about my last night at my institute, a bunch of friends up a particularly forbidden terrace. A time of retrospection and farewells, literally on top of the world overlooking the valley with spectacles of at least ten shooting stars.

I miss those times.

Twilight Walks

moon

A sliver of pearl traverses the night

Bumping into scintillating stars

Sleep eludes and thoughts soar up

Wrapping dreams like a blanket

.

To lie back on the curve of the moon

Leisurely fish for errant asteroids

Loop a rope around a comet and

Stumble upon an outrageous galaxy

.

Hike back to earth on a meteor shower

Fall into a luxuriant canopy of grass

Rinse feet in the cold bustling stream

Dig toes into the sifting oozing sand

.

A golden lace of sunshine threading

Patchwork quilts of carnations and daisies

Silver drops perch atop the glossy leaves

Feathers of dandelions narrate faraway tales

.

Stories familiar of concrete and clocks

Of life that forgets the beauty of dawn

Don’t want to leave this secret meadow

And wake up to begin living yet again.


Deadlines, meetings and doctor visits have made me want to run away. Dreaming is my one and only outlet. I needed Open Link Night to pick up the pen and write again.

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Dreaming my Grave

Image Credits: Holunder @ Deviantart.com
Image Credits: Holunder @ Deviantart.com

The dream was of an Accident…

Tossed over like a rag-doll.

Numb to screams and flashes.

 

The seeping red blood called

Out to a home left far behind.

Shades of blue flushed the skin,

The beating nucleus basking in

its imminent convulsing climax.

 

Resisted the stifling warm embrace,

Screaming out noiselessly.

Begging to be let go.

They did not listen.

They never do.

 

Mere seconds for the curtain call.

Breathing in the last strains

Of untainted hastening life.

The slowly freezing core clung to

the cold kisses of sharp steel.

 

A burning throat implored for the

knight in his shining armour,

Only to realize,

My hands held the scythe

piercing my soul mercilessly.

 

I woke up falling into an abyss.

The dream was of an Accident.

And I wondered if it was true.


A poetry of a time when the unconscious mind is digging its own grave. A wake up call to reality and the lost innocence of childhood – to get myself together and heal to live.

Written for:  Photo Challenge over at mindlovemisery’s menagerie 

Observations of a Frustrated Desk

Listen up Young Man!

You stalk in here every morning,

Your suit sharp and briefcase gleaming,

A scent of expensive cologne trails behind,

Dreadfully camouflaging the reek of a rotting mind.

 

Your frown greets me sourly,

Your fingers slam at my smooth surface,

Your foot taps restlessly against my corner,

Your shoulders crack from a cramped misery,

Your tie chokes every pleasantry you spittle out,

Your pursed mouth smothers your violent expletives.

 

Where is the boy who wished to soar in stars?

Where is the athlete who lived to play football?

Where is the youth who aspired to bring a change?

I see a ghost who has forgotten the face of the skies.

I find a shadow who can barely keep up his forged smile.

I hear a slave who bequeathed the power of a spirited fight.

 

Listen up Young Man!

The stale air is drawing your life out,

The dream of green notes haunting your sleep,

The incessant torrent of reports stifling your vision,

Run! Lest they make a rat out of you in this twisted race.


At dVerse, Marina Sofia recommended an exercise to make the abstract concrete, where I ended up with the prompt “Frustrated Desk”. This is my slightly skewed take on it.