what i think when i think about myself

the unembellished glass on my window
is not of a reflecting kind, it changes color
with the sun’s brow, disguised by its own
retention of what hitherto it did beget –

when i think about selves, i mirror
the glass of my window, and pluck apples
from my eyes to taste the sense of sight,
and single out every experience in its own light,

when i think about lives, i snigger
like the loony bark of the mutt outside, and push
into the so-called oblivion, a thought to right
the wrongs of being one of a kind, of this plight,

when i think about you, i am triggered
by your mirror of my own life, and try to pick
from your eyes, any sign of a comic relief, to indict
myself for subsumption of an egotistic delight,

when i think about myself, i quiver
like the potent wine of the sky outside, and pull
out from my own self, a torn thought to site
every memory, to extinguish into the night.

.

For Poets United Midweek Motif

Photo edited through Instagram and Prisma

Contact me: Instagram, Facebook, Gmail

*Linking with dVerse OLN

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To become Fire

my heart has begun to rhyme,
it’s committed the solemn crime
to begin the walk taken alone,
stepping on land that moans
with every blink of yellow eyes,
I’m finding stars that never rise,
I am in the wilderness of desire,
I am reaching out to become fire.

touch me where it hurts the most,
I am ready to pay all the costs,
there is no meaning to the sea
that perspires in moments of glee,
I am sea foam, salted with desire,
I am reaching out to become fire,
that pardons none and forgives all
I am giving away to you my soul.

my heart has begun to rhyme,
it’s blossoming with dirt and grime,
there is no penitentiary for lust,
it is the fuel that never combusts,
the journey ends where it begins,
innocence dead, the demons win,
I am lost in wilderness of desire,
I am reaching out to become fire.

.

Written in consideration of dVerse Poetics where we are writing octets. I did not follow the syllable structure. I was reading Bilbo’s Last Song (At The Grey Havens) by J.R.R Tolkien, written in three octets. So, I came up with this verse which can be called vulgar in comparison to Tolkien’s verse. But that is what I am. Vulgar. 😀
I haven’t been writing much lately but for some empty verses which I scribble on the book that I am reading. I hope that you have not forgot me already.

Image source

Letter To A Poet: A Medley of Cinquains

source

nudging

me in my dreams,

rapier of your words,

penetrating deep, would not let

me sleep,

.

the sounds

of your verses,

playing a symphony

in cavern of my ears, won’t let

me sleep,

.

cadence

and treasured rhymes

make me smile at odd times,

entrancing my soul, would not let

me sleep,

.

your voice

that I could hear

in the deep crevices

welled up in my heart, would not let

me sleep,

.

 thy love

you are pouring

in the fragrant garland

that enfolds your poem, won’t let

me sleep,

.

you are

an artist who

spots a new vivid world

in normal surroundings, please let

me sleep,

.

aura

of creations,

that which resides in you

breaches my every shield, won’t let

me sleep,

.

open

my weak eyelids

in search of you so as

to read you within, giving up

my sleep,

.

letter

to my kindred

who nurses a poem

like a small child who does not let

them sleep,

.

no need

of rest when we

can stay awake whole night

etching ourselves in words, letting

off sleep

.

* First of all, this is a medley of Cinquains which I have used to create an Epistolary Poem. It was quite a fun task.

** I am submitting the link for dVerse Poetics where we have been called to write a letter through a poem.

The Maze of my Desires

The maze of my desires, 

All of a sudden fizzles with fires.

I don’t know why,

I smile in such a condition so wry.

Its not terrible for me,

Let the situation be,

Prevailing around,

To which I’m now bound.

The maze of my desires,

Is tangled like the many wires,

Sparking electric current at times,

And that is all I can write with my useless rhymes.