Tree of Spirits
There is a world far beyond our own,
Where there is a tree and not a soul.
Planted on the dark side of the horizon
It harbors the spirits lost in tragedies
Struggling to find a place in Heaven.
When the moon sneaks above the sky
Looking like a black orb without radiance,
Looms out of the dark clouds with a sneer,
Then the tree glows in vibrant colors
With smoky hues of red, green and blue
Forming a grim nimbus around it.
This grotesque spectacle is conjured
By the occult of witches and warlocks
For the souls try to take forms of the past
In a hellish way to liberate themselves
From the leash of branches entwined
Within the hideous trunk from which
Beautiful faces and rotten skulls and
Mortified eyes peer into the darkness
In a despairing search for a glimpse
Of something that breathes.
(c) Amit Herlekar
#freeverse #review
There is a world far beyond our own,
Where there is a tree and not a soul.
Planted on the dark side of the horizon
It harbors the spirits lost in tragedies
Struggling to find a place in Heaven.
When the moon sneaks above the sky
Looking like a black orb without radiance,
Looms out of the dark clouds with a sneer,
Then the tree glows in vibrant colors
With smoky hues of red, green and blue
Forming a grim nimbus around it.
This grotesque spectacle is conjured
By the occult of witches and warlocks
For the souls try to take forms of the past
In a hellish way to liberate themselves
From the leash of branches entwined
Within the hideous trunk from which
Beautiful faces and rotten skulls and
Mortified eyes peer into the darkness
In a despairing search for a glimpse
Of something that breathes.
(c) Amit Herlekar
#freeverse #review
THE PAWPAW TREE
Outside my window
I see a burdened tree with fruity dreams.
With a billion places to go yet rooted in one spot.
Its pain, its stunted spine.
Bent by the weights that alleviate another's pains.
I see it's sweat, I see its tears.
Sticky white snakes gliding down it's sides.
I see the curse of abundance.
The tears of the blessed
Enveloped in the darkness of isolation.
Waiting for the one in the shade to offer a trade of place.
Hoping someone would understand.
Hoping one would care.
Outside my window, I see myself.
Maybe in another world.
But still,
I see a burdened tree with fruity dreams.
With a billion places to go yet rooted in one spot.
#MA #poetry #review
Outside my window
I see a burdened tree with fruity dreams.
With a billion places to go yet rooted in one spot.
Its pain, its stunted spine.
Bent by the weights that alleviate another's pains.
I see it's sweat, I see its tears.
Sticky white snakes gliding down it's sides.
I see the curse of abundance.
The tears of the blessed
Enveloped in the darkness of isolation.
Waiting for the one in the shade to offer a trade of place.
Hoping someone would understand.
Hoping one would care.
Outside my window, I see myself.
Maybe in another world.
But still,
I see a burdened tree with fruity dreams.
With a billion places to go yet rooted in one spot.
#MA #poetry #review
~MUM~
I held her hand, and she looked at me with awe
I would paint my handprints on every wall I'd know
Spring and autumn, around the changing seasons i grew
She kept me in her arms and all my dreams came true
Kissed my palm, before she sang me to sleep
They say "Nothing lasts forver", but her love was way too deep
I was all grown up, didn't need her help to cross the street,
my friends would all laugh,
as if holding her hand was my greatest defeat
I'd ask her to leave, if anywhere I was near my school,
She asked why, and I told her it doesn't look very cool,
I cared a lot about what "somebody" would say,
but it was her who taught me, that "somebody" was just me
I sat by her side, and our hands are of the same size,
but her knuckles are all pale, and it leaves me with a teary eye
Her fingers would all swell, as the winter air grew cold,
In all these years, she gave her hands too much to hold,
One day, i found those handprints i made when i was two
Wish I could go back, when her hands were the only thing i knew.
~HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY :)
#review
#poem
#mothersday
I held her hand, and she looked at me with awe
I would paint my handprints on every wall I'd know
Spring and autumn, around the changing seasons i grew
She kept me in her arms and all my dreams came true
Kissed my palm, before she sang me to sleep
They say "Nothing lasts forver", but her love was way too deep
I was all grown up, didn't need her help to cross the street,
my friends would all laugh,
as if holding her hand was my greatest defeat
I'd ask her to leave, if anywhere I was near my school,
She asked why, and I told her it doesn't look very cool,
I cared a lot about what "somebody" would say,
but it was her who taught me, that "somebody" was just me
I sat by her side, and our hands are of the same size,
but her knuckles are all pale, and it leaves me with a teary eye
Her fingers would all swell, as the winter air grew cold,
In all these years, she gave her hands too much to hold,
One day, i found those handprints i made when i was two
Wish I could go back, when her hands were the only thing i knew.
~HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY :)
#review
#poem
#mothersday
The Mysterious Voice
Lying under the scintillating Moon,
I heard dulcet tones from a distant,
An ethereal voice of a soprano,
Of what the stars being a testament.
The susurrus of the zephyr,
That conflated with the frequencies of the voice,
Adorning the beauty of the melody,
Leaving me with an ephemeral rejoice.
I proceeded to follow the origin,
Before it began to become evanescent,
And I froze for a second to what was overwhelming,
Being a victim of such an idyllic event.
Soon when the aurora arrived,
And the sunlight aurified the dark realm of the sky,
It was me who was still wondering,
To what was rather difficult to deny.
Was it a beautiful dream?
Or was it true?
As I sat there wondering,
Until the darkness further grew.
#review #poetry #San
Lying under the scintillating Moon,
I heard dulcet tones from a distant,
An ethereal voice of a soprano,
Of what the stars being a testament.
The susurrus of the zephyr,
That conflated with the frequencies of the voice,
Adorning the beauty of the melody,
Leaving me with an ephemeral rejoice.
I proceeded to follow the origin,
Before it began to become evanescent,
And I froze for a second to what was overwhelming,
Being a victim of such an idyllic event.
Soon when the aurora arrived,
And the sunlight aurified the dark realm of the sky,
It was me who was still wondering,
To what was rather difficult to deny.
Was it a beautiful dream?
Or was it true?
As I sat there wondering,
Until the darkness further grew.
#review #poetry #San
Bottled lightening, fallen stars,
Dancing butterflies and singing soul,
What are these little half expressions,
To express your love so fulfilling and whole.
I'm pouring ink like a maniac,
For a love that made me sane,
Loving in my intermediate ways,
Forgetting the boon or bane.
I'll pour till my paper is all wet,
And with it I'll wipe your dry hand,
Stain you in my transparent ink,
In colors only we will Bottled lightening, fallen stars,
Dancing butterflies and singing soul,
What are these little half expressions,
To express your love so fulfilling and whole.
I'm pouring ink like a maniac,
For a love that made me sane,
Loving in my intermediate ways,
Forgetting the boon or bane.
I'll pour till my paper is all wet,
And with it I'll wipe your dry hand,
Stain you in my transparent ink,
In colors only we will understandunderstand
~ Maansi
#review
#poetry
#maans
Dancing butterflies and singing soul,
What are these little half expressions,
To express your love so fulfilling and whole.
I'm pouring ink like a maniac,
For a love that made me sane,
Loving in my intermediate ways,
Forgetting the boon or bane.
I'll pour till my paper is all wet,
And with it I'll wipe your dry hand,
Stain you in my transparent ink,
In colors only we will Bottled lightening, fallen stars,
Dancing butterflies and singing soul,
What are these little half expressions,
To express your love so fulfilling and whole.
I'm pouring ink like a maniac,
For a love that made me sane,
Loving in my intermediate ways,
Forgetting the boon or bane.
I'll pour till my paper is all wet,
And with it I'll wipe your dry hand,
Stain you in my transparent ink,
In colors only we will understandunderstand
~ Maansi
#review
#poetry
#maans
I met a girl who was like the shameplant,
Delicate to touch but pleasant to look at,
As we together kept aside our past selves,
And walked on the beach with the sunset.
Her innocent eyes reflected secrets,
That she kept with her as she grew,
Little did I know,
What she had went through.
Her heart strings were like that of guitar,
Waiting for someone who can strum it the right way,
And fill colors in her life,
That was once painted with grey.
Being engaged in a conflict with my mind,
My soul was stuck at one end,
Leaving me all alone baffled,
With a broken heart to mend.
We both had bad past experiences,
But we had a future ahead to secure,
Of all those unseen & untouched wounds that ever existed,
Love being a medicine to cure.
Eventually she began to open up,
As I handed over my tiny fragile pieces to her,
On the pillar of trust that we had cemented,
She gave her hands in mine with pleasure.
#review #San #poetry
Delicate to touch but pleasant to look at,
As we together kept aside our past selves,
And walked on the beach with the sunset.
Her innocent eyes reflected secrets,
That she kept with her as she grew,
Little did I know,
What she had went through.
Her heart strings were like that of guitar,
Waiting for someone who can strum it the right way,
And fill colors in her life,
That was once painted with grey.
Being engaged in a conflict with my mind,
My soul was stuck at one end,
Leaving me all alone baffled,
With a broken heart to mend.
We both had bad past experiences,
But we had a future ahead to secure,
Of all those unseen & untouched wounds that ever existed,
Love being a medicine to cure.
Eventually she began to open up,
As I handed over my tiny fragile pieces to her,
On the pillar of trust that we had cemented,
She gave her hands in mine with pleasure.
#review #San #poetry
#review #woeisme
WOE IS ME.
Life seems bewildering like a maze. Some instances feel ravishing and some in the arms of haze.I keep pondering when is this supposed to cease, when will i fade.
Can't bear the thoughts of the morrow,They intimidate like a tempestuous wave.
Where is the balm of my woe?
Was i not fit for destines grace?
I wholly yearn to relish life's melody,did i sound too
profane ?
Before long i came across a stranger in a cerebral lane, His mouth was open ...he was nothing but bones, trying to say something but all i heard were groans.
He finally told me he was running from woe never to realise how old he did grow.I scrutinized closely,a likeness did i see ...did not want to give in but ohh it was me.
WOE IS ME.
Life seems bewildering like a maze. Some instances feel ravishing and some in the arms of haze.I keep pondering when is this supposed to cease, when will i fade.
Can't bear the thoughts of the morrow,They intimidate like a tempestuous wave.
Where is the balm of my woe?
Was i not fit for destines grace?
I wholly yearn to relish life's melody,did i sound too
profane ?
Before long i came across a stranger in a cerebral lane, His mouth was open ...he was nothing but bones, trying to say something but all i heard were groans.
He finally told me he was running from woe never to realise how old he did grow.I scrutinized closely,a likeness did i see ...did not want to give in but ohh it was me.
Title: "War" :(
War could make you feel deterred,
It could wreck your whole world.
War between two nations,
War between two communities,
War between two thoughts.
War could snatch your identity,
It could sieze your entity.
Many children grew up without their fathers,
Wives left alone, insurance salesman became rocket launchers.
Artists lost their existence,
All were the aftermaths of war.
Children lost their parents,
Amateurs lived lives of paupers.
People lost God's grace,
Noncombatant strayed from their residence.
Hospitals became prayer halls.
Cementries listened wails,
What not?!
War is the result of incessant hostile thoughts,
Million more innocents, million more onslaughts.
Yes, we got praised.
Got praised for what?!
Winning war or loosing trust.
As all wars are civil wars first.
Because all men are brothers.
Even after several years,
We are unable to free ourselves,
from the shackles of distress.
War is nothing but a cowardly escape,
from the problems of calmness.
#review
#rks
#poetry
War could make you feel deterred,
It could wreck your whole world.
War between two nations,
War between two communities,
War between two thoughts.
War could snatch your identity,
It could sieze your entity.
Many children grew up without their fathers,
Wives left alone, insurance salesman became rocket launchers.
Artists lost their existence,
All were the aftermaths of war.
Children lost their parents,
Amateurs lived lives of paupers.
People lost God's grace,
Noncombatant strayed from their residence.
Hospitals became prayer halls.
Cementries listened wails,
What not?!
War is the result of incessant hostile thoughts,
Million more innocents, million more onslaughts.
Yes, we got praised.
Got praised for what?!
Winning war or loosing trust.
As all wars are civil wars first.
Because all men are brothers.
Even after several years,
We are unable to free ourselves,
from the shackles of distress.
War is nothing but a cowardly escape,
from the problems of calmness.
#review
#rks
#poetry
Nam Goongmin has long lost his child. It was mandatory; was never his choice. Things escalated so quickly, in matters of seconds his life turned upside down, four seasons all at once. The laughter, the exuberance, the elation, the melancholy, the sorrow, the anguish, the angst, and the anger. Feeling the fiery heat of an enkindled inner flame, even death will never be able to extinguish, is his new feeling; he can no longer get rid of. Miscarriage of justice and conviction of crimes he never committed weren't enough to ruin his life, they took it further, killing his mother and burning her alive. Fire can be fatal and so are knives, whereby his wife was killed. It didn't end there tho, entering a room but finding an empty crib was last anticipated thing; newborn baby, Jaemin, now is gone.
It was then the end of Nam Goongmin. But the beginning of *Războinic* or *Răzbunător* maybe both, after all they are the same person but different peraonas. It was the end of his well scripted tragedy; his excruciatingly painful experience, however vowing in silent is no longer fervour to avenge the murders. With outrage and disbelief combined it was the birth of a serial killer.
Na Jaemin is back as a detective, with first given case, was exposing the true identity of the mysterious killer. Will our young boy then be an exemplary detective, by helping solve a violent crime spree? Or will he fail his first given case, by being an exemplary son?
*NB* This part is reserved only to give readers a great insight on how the story will unfold. It's a plot summary, that's why it's kept short, brief and murky.
#review
#novel
It was then the end of Nam Goongmin. But the beginning of *Războinic* or *Răzbunător* maybe both, after all they are the same person but different peraonas. It was the end of his well scripted tragedy; his excruciatingly painful experience, however vowing in silent is no longer fervour to avenge the murders. With outrage and disbelief combined it was the birth of a serial killer.
Na Jaemin is back as a detective, with first given case, was exposing the true identity of the mysterious killer. Will our young boy then be an exemplary detective, by helping solve a violent crime spree? Or will he fail his first given case, by being an exemplary son?
*NB* This part is reserved only to give readers a great insight on how the story will unfold. It's a plot summary, that's why it's kept short, brief and murky.
#review
#novel
Sighs
How many starved and became bones
to make the wall this hard
How many aged and turned drooped
to keep the roof this high
How many died and were buried
for the floor to be this wide
#AhmadMusa #review #poem
How many starved and became bones
to make the wall this hard
How many aged and turned drooped
to keep the roof this high
How many died and were buried
for the floor to be this wide
#AhmadMusa #review #poem
I wish I could be blind for a few minutes in my life,
So I couldn't see those godly curves around me.
Showing off their soft and shiny skins,
And staring at the pale and tight flesh that surround me.
Or I wish I could turn deaf for a few minutes,
So I couldn't hear their lip fillers speaking.
Mighty tales of their hookups and night outs,
Then pointing at me while chuckling and squeaking.
Or maybe just turn invisible for some minutes,
To remove my existence to feel a bit stronger.
Hiding my skinny body in some invisible cloak,
Before someone hides me shutting me in my locker.
Or I could just get some paint and courage atleast ,
To paint the sign saying 'Girls Locker room' all black.
And write with red paint that looks like blood,
"Torture room" and hope someone will have my back.~Maansi,iwritesometimes
#mans
#poetry
#review
Lost her in the dark sky
I lost her in the dark sky,
Thought she is hiding behind the stars,
It costs my life to find her,
I risked my lifetime to search her,
Weeks and years passed by,
Can't able to find her.
At the beginning, I thought,
I lost her in the dark sky,
But she is purposefully hiding,
She knows where I am but I don't
Even after knowing this I searched,
I didn't stop even after becoming mad.
A past reminded me a conversation
Her words, "What will you do if you lost me?"
I replied I will become mad
Those words haunted me deep.
Those true words proves my loyalty
But more of the past reminded me,
My bag full of mistakes...
My fate cursed me more and said
you deserve it for what you did to her....
#review
#poetry
#share
#VLV
I lost her in the dark sky,
Thought she is hiding behind the stars,
It costs my life to find her,
I risked my lifetime to search her,
Weeks and years passed by,
Can't able to find her.
At the beginning, I thought,
I lost her in the dark sky,
But she is purposefully hiding,
She knows where I am but I don't
Even after knowing this I searched,
I didn't stop even after becoming mad.
A past reminded me a conversation
Her words, "What will you do if you lost me?"
I replied I will become mad
Those words haunted me deep.
Those true words proves my loyalty
But more of the past reminded me,
My bag full of mistakes...
My fate cursed me more and said
you deserve it for what you did to her....
#review
#poetry
#share
#VLV
Intrigue life always ardour us by making ourselves more bright,
I merely know the secert of life and death where soul know how to be polite,
Miles away mysterious light flashing and telling the way of heaven,
I glanced the salubrious garden with holy lake swans diving like melodies rain of ardent,
My ears catches the Mesmerizing symphony and sound played by the angel of holy clouds,
My heart plunge in her deep Captivating eyes blue ocean and miraculous paradise,
Overweening I'm to enamored the color's of holy water and filled myself with the immortal drink of bottle,
At the end my eyes open under the tree I wonder my dream blown so quickly so quickly....
By- Mohit
#Review
#poetry
I merely know the secert of life and death where soul know how to be polite,
Miles away mysterious light flashing and telling the way of heaven,
I glanced the salubrious garden with holy lake swans diving like melodies rain of ardent,
My ears catches the Mesmerizing symphony and sound played by the angel of holy clouds,
My heart plunge in her deep Captivating eyes blue ocean and miraculous paradise,
Overweening I'm to enamored the color's of holy water and filled myself with the immortal drink of bottle,
At the end my eyes open under the tree I wonder my dream blown so quickly so quickly....
By- Mohit
#Review
#poetry
Ex 6
The Kitchen
It's that time again.
My phone shouldn't swim.
I leave it behind.
My feet drag, the door joins in too.
My face sags as always.
Time pauses to tease.
There's that pile again.
I'm cuffed with no one to assist me.
I take the glorified slime and mix it with the oils.
The bubbles.
I like the bubbles.
But what do bubbles change?
Then it strikes again.
The silver chord within my heart is strummed again.
Ripple from my head to my hands.
Picking broken shards from the floor again.
I miss the days.
When she was around to mention my name.
Here come my tears again.
Pouring out of the cut I had.
Not in my palms but in my heart to hold.
I am in that place again.
Floating in the fragrance of her cakes and pies.
Landing in the tightness of her scolds and hugs.
Rowing on the rivers of her secret prayers.
It's that time again.
Staring at myself in cloudy water.
Seeing that left to me the storm will never be over.
I like to hold on to the anger that bubbles inside.
Wishing I could be a doctor before she went cold.
The bubbles.
I like the bubbles.
But what do bubbles change?
#MA #poetry #review
The Kitchen
It's that time again.
My phone shouldn't swim.
I leave it behind.
My feet drag, the door joins in too.
My face sags as always.
Time pauses to tease.
There's that pile again.
I'm cuffed with no one to assist me.
I take the glorified slime and mix it with the oils.
The bubbles.
I like the bubbles.
But what do bubbles change?
Then it strikes again.
The silver chord within my heart is strummed again.
Ripple from my head to my hands.
Picking broken shards from the floor again.
I miss the days.
When she was around to mention my name.
Here come my tears again.
Pouring out of the cut I had.
Not in my palms but in my heart to hold.
I am in that place again.
Floating in the fragrance of her cakes and pies.
Landing in the tightness of her scolds and hugs.
Rowing on the rivers of her secret prayers.
It's that time again.
Staring at myself in cloudy water.
Seeing that left to me the storm will never be over.
I like to hold on to the anger that bubbles inside.
Wishing I could be a doctor before she went cold.
The bubbles.
I like the bubbles.
But what do bubbles change?
#MA #poetry #review
Magnificent drop of rain on the ground the incense of soil freshening the mound,
Dreadful black cloud with the lighting thrash & sound,
Enchanting my soul relish about the mysterious coldy wind in my surround,
Elated delightful sound by the children making paper boats on the street dreaming as a sailor of the sea,
My heart went round in the thoughts of my old memories where we dance on the playing ground,
Could I revive my old gracious childhood fantasy in my around,
Trees are shaking hastily old golden leaves flying like it's a month of autumn with lots of zeal,
Rain end softly & teached me the importance of life and nature, the boundless thought of divinity make you one precious gems of enormity.....
By- Mohit
#Review
#poetry
Dreadful black cloud with the lighting thrash & sound,
Enchanting my soul relish about the mysterious coldy wind in my surround,
Elated delightful sound by the children making paper boats on the street dreaming as a sailor of the sea,
My heart went round in the thoughts of my old memories where we dance on the playing ground,
Could I revive my old gracious childhood fantasy in my around,
Trees are shaking hastily old golden leaves flying like it's a month of autumn with lots of zeal,
Rain end softly & teached me the importance of life and nature, the boundless thought of divinity make you one precious gems of enormity.....
By- Mohit
#Review
#poetry