The Biopsy of a Poet

In the depth of the night
Cloaked in silence, Words visit me
There is a strange sense of anticipation
in this hour of darkness.

I am blown away
by the idiosyncrasy of these metaphors
Like the fragrance of the morning mist
I embrace this fresh breeze

The verses within me take forms
Shining out of my words
The poetry in me is alive again
My individuality clefts open

I am the oblivion, I am the blaze
I am weak yet powerful
Under these new clouds of myth shattering
My joy is quick and short

What brilliance is my soul chasing?
A muse to enmesh my words with
Perhaps a cadence to write more
to satiate myself in marathons of poetry.

Like some great love that perishes with time
I listen myself, while I become a writer
I read ballads, written for myself
and not for a dime or a dream.

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In this moment of silence, I have paused, and wondered
Like a memory, stripped off it’s odour
I have forgotten, again, 
the scarcely remembered songs
I am a lost cause of the whispering night 

Across vast distances, unconspicous as the morning mist
The candle in me has not much flame
As a living debt fleeing out of reach
To pay a little and a little to preach.

The Flinty Aisle

Published it yesterday….

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There is a new road leading to a new city
With red leaves from December
rambled in the candid truths of time
branches of tempting struggles
that grips time in hollow minds

Your scrawny voice, that rips through
my etherized face of memories
the slumber scent, that covers the road
in the anticipation of a silver spring.

These symbols of hypnotizied realities
Like a new floor of myth manufacturing
Words that pierce sharper than the silence
Dangling between the stillness of time

Hopes soaring uncertainly to nightfall
The dreams that have kept me awake
The beautiful imperfection of yours
I don’t have the courage to take new routes
I don’t have the heart to let you go

The crepuscule reconcilation of our souls
There is an inscrutable fusion
Of all the misery, the emotion , the trust
Some winged desire of dazzling dreams

We are however flawed in our own…

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The morning dew, that slips into the eyes
The soft warmth of the sky
The nobles of my mind
Building wonderlands amongst mountains of reverie

From the husk of the soul
They contrive the fragile roofs
The painless paths to the blue

The inevitable lights construe
The crescent depth of the clouds
Reaching the conscious creeks,
The branches that bear fruits

The salt and the sorrow
That my mind consumes so graciously
The air that fills my voids
Where idiosyncrasy  meets consonance.

But the confinement of the dawn
That dampers beauty to the edges
Where I am naked, singular before the god

It slids under the cloaks of hopelessness
Where I hold sighs of love
The fading warmth, gently sucked into nothingness
The muses fade, as the rays of certainity
shine into my dwellings.

Pic Credits- http://donmezerm.deviantart.com/

The Flinty Aisle

11_by_donmezerm-d7d57b4

There is a new road leading to a new city
With red leaves from December
rambled in the candid truths of time
branches of tempting struggles
that grips time in hollow minds

Your scrawny voice, that rips through
my etherized face of memories
the slumber scent, that covers the road
in the anticipation of a silver spring.

These symbols of hypnotizied realities
Like a new floor of myth manufacturing
Words that pierce sharper than the silence
Dangling between the stillness of time

Hopes soaring uncertainly to nightfall
The dreams that have kept me awake
The beautiful imperfection of yours
I don’t have the courage to take new routes
I don’t have the heart to let you go

The crepuscule reconcilation of our souls
There is an inscrutable fusion
Of all the misery, the emotion , the trust
Some winged desire of dazzling dreams

We are however flawed in our own dread
like empty hushes of an abandoned house
Familiar, forgotten, a secret door to memories
That spilled in and out of the consciousness.

I garner the tinges of the sun and your condign glint
As in a vaporous hallowed place, our rituals fade
Would the misty light hear my moning prayers?
to let us grope our own glory once more.

Image source- http://donmezerm.deviantart.com/gallery/

To desire or not to…

To desire is to have you wrapped
in the solace of bonds
Where life demands tangibility
In every single breath we share

To desire is to have your eyes
light up the broken lamps
in the dejected corners of my house
Your celestial touch that feels
like the scent of morning dew

To desire is to feel the blood
That fills your delicate hands
And to borrow warmth, for once
From your everglowing semblance

To know you like no one does
To know your voice like a dearly etched memory
The fragrance that bloom the flowers early
Beauty that flutters life into shallow spirits

But it would be apt not to yearn
Since you’re no longer the symphony
on the beats of which my heart wiggles
You’re no longer the north star of my life

I couldn’t bear the truth
I couldn’t endure the speculum
that you gored into my eyes
The weight of the destiny
burns heavy into my soul

I couldn’t confront the barbed words
mercilessely wounding me at the core

We were destined to rise, were we?
Or perhaps to fall
into abysmal patterns of life
We were never to be larger than ourselves
But the fate stabbed the love

We shared all the little fragments of life
the quantum of pain and joy
We moulded sufferings into elation
Before we succumbed to our truer selves,
unfeigned motives and honest ramblings

Neither the skies, nor the stars
But only we knew how we could
Outgrow the castles we built together
Only we knew how desires can be turned to cinders.

Where your shadows can’t reach

When you left, the darkest of voids
swalloed me in
Like the passed down succulents
from the centuries beyond our reach

I fathom your equalvocality
Once and for all,  in this age of emotional spree
I embrace these last rituals of a lover
The feathers of the long agonizing months

The furious tussle,
to rub you off from the memories
To omit what’s yours,
Your smile which is no more
an ornamental majesty to me

At the threshold of premonition
There is an empathy between your words
Where time is viciously dense

And the awkward grace
which only your oneness can wear
which you feared would go dull in time
has lost the luster, all too soon.

But who is to blame
if your voice has suddenly become too ordinary
who is to blame
if your laughter sounds too cacaphonic to me
who is to blame, if not you
for burning too bright in the summer.

Seasons bustled and I have been conquered
So this winter, I shall just be a mortal rag
honing my desires at the crossroads
of your foreordained silence

The trees will sink deeper this season
The flowers would never have been so pale
And I will stand in serenity under their grand haloes
Where your shadows is bleek
under the very haze you set afloat

Reviving the erstwhile love

I hold onto my vices
After years of distance apart us
Today, I love you suddenly like
some gold nugget found on a street

The stiffness that stops me from bending
and pick it up from the sand
bursting through my obdurated pride.

On my chest is the gesture of eternity
where you have spent nights my love
Your eyes that live in mine

I need you because your soul
Teaches me, like the ages, like the sea
When you walk through the familiar routes
Where everyone is beautiful but us

Let us part ourselves from history
and realize the bitterness in each other,
in some candied poetic ways.
And then be united,
out of the spiritual compulsion

I will fill your curiosity
with my new ways of enthrall
Your green eyes will shudder
and your heart will dance to a strange rhythm.

An intrigue of nights we shared
A soul of souls that lives on
A part in me and a part in you.