The Beholder. 

I am learning

More

About poetry… 

About the structure

Of my pieces, 

From the point it

Sprouts

To the end, 

Where it blossoms

Under the sunlight of

My daydreams. 

I am learning more about poetry… 

About the words, 

The syllables… 

The places where I need them

To speak

And the places where

I need them

To feel

The sides of myself

I have trapped

Between the lines

Of my heart. 

I am learning

More

About my poetry, 

And the people I talk about… 

The emotions I express… 

The hearts

I have touched. 

And though there is more

To this world I find myself

Content

With the bits of it

That come my way

On wings of the wind, 

On palms of the ocean, 

On eyes of the sun, 

On feet of the earth, 

And from the heavy heart

Of rain. 

Beauty is never looked for, 

Most often, 

It is right there

At the edge of our vision, 

Waiting to be images

On the mirrors

Of our eyes. 

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Her Silver Lining. 

She is a happy soul. 

A being

Crafted

By the beating sounds

Of laughter. 

There was an

Effortlessness

In the way she did it. 

Most people think 

To craft diamonds

You need flames

But there are far better jewels 

Stuck in the spaces

Of her smile. 

And with the lustre

Her joy

Sang

Into the strings 

Of golden light, 

& it was there

The spectrum split, 

And spilt rainbows

Into this rainy world. 

I suppose

Color 

Has always been

Her silver lining

Warmth. 

I feel warm inside. That kind of warmth that’d make you want to hold on to & let it wrap around you like a warm tea cup clasped by hands bruised by chilly days. I feel like I could hold you for as long as I can… As long as I should… & let your warmth wrap itself around me too. 

The Balcony. 

There wasn’t much to see… 

The sky gathered 

Her blue

From the crowds

Of silver clouds

Beneath 

Her feet, 

And walked 

Into the shadow of the world

Where

Moons wait out

The day. 

The sun was already burning, 

Itching glass windows

With the remnants

Of its light

That never split

Into color. 

It was there that I 

Looked for you, 

In the brightness of

Spilt sunlight, 

Burning glassy eyes

That let their gazes linger

Too long. 

But you were there, 

In the shadow

Where the sky ran to, 

Just behind the windows, 

Waiting for the sun 

To set

Beyond the edges of

My world

So you could have me

In my nights

With the moon

In your heart. 

And so I remained 

Fixated

On the balcony, 

Looking for the signs

You’d leave

For my eyes to follow…

Louder Than Words. 

There’s no need

For noise…

Empty chaos… 

Or too many thoughts…

I’d rather

We loose ourselves in

Everything

We feel from each other

From the places

Our hearts vibrate 

The loudest 

Under each other’s 

Palms, 

And numb our lips

While speaking in

Tongues

Louder than words. 

The Cloud & The Rock


I love

The delicacy

Of your hands… 

The cushion-soft

Pulse

Breathing in the veins

Beneath the lining of

Gold & silver dust

Of your skin. 

The way you’d 

Hold me

Like the silent grace

In your stare, 

Hoping that I don’t fall

And shatter

Because of her

Carelessness. 

I admit, 

I must have missed

The way it feels

To see pain

From someone that sees me

Fall, 

This world

Brought me with

Chaos & cold

Despite the warmth

Of my mother’s womb. 

Since I broke through the shell

I’ve had to make myself

A rock

And not an egg. 

& I learnt to fall… 

& fall… 

And fall… 

Until all I learnt

Was to brace

For the hardness of

The floor. 

And yet here comes

This cloud, 

Alarmed

That the rock

Never broke

Despite the cracks

On his heart. 

It was then I knew of

God’s love,

If the strength 

Of its tender touch… 

Of the

Shatter 

Of its star-lit heart… 

I learned of

You. 

Muse

She’s learning what it is 

To become

Poetry… 

To be the one thing

His world loves

To talk about… 

To be the

Frowns he never misses, 

The tone

He always listens… 

The smile 

He leaves with kisses… 

She has learned what it is

To be

The very speck

That makes 

Diamonds

Out of fire-bathed rock, 

And she wears the lustre

In the crown

Of her eyes, 

Where the harshest sun

Turns into gentle light… 

And there I lay, 

In the nest

Of her little heaven, 

Wondering what next

Should I look out for… 

She’s learning

To become poetry, 

& I don’t think 

I’ve written anything 

Better

Thus far.