The Fall
You know it's fall again
When the cold-sweet breeze
Brushes against your face
As your mornings start
Snuggled up beneath sheets
As the sun goes up
All bright and sparkly
Bathing you in its warmth
For a moment you hold on
To bid summer a final goodbye
With mesmerizing October evenings
You take a look at autumn leaves
Red yellow orange, all stacked
You know it's fall again
As you step on to hear them crack
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All this while
I'd been puzzled
Looking for clarity
For what it's been forgotten
Unanswered forever
Trying to figure out
What held me merciful
Maybe it was guilt mostly
Perhaps relief occasionally
That eventually
Kept pulling me back
And now essentially
The heart has discovered
Which somehow
My mind kept covered
Not me but my vulnerability
Handed me over to him
As that of an open book
One after the other
He kept turning pages
Reading my existence
Since all these ages
Highlighting my calm
While taking a note
On the deepest scars
He studied me so well
Still I couldn't dwell
As now I am aware
Not me but my vulnerability
Lit a glim of hope
That all this time
Kept him tied with a rope
So once and for all
I am writing this to settle
Choosing peace
Over this constant battle
As now the heart has discovered
Which somehow
My mind kept covered
-Ishita Kathuria-
My eyes looking at you,
Long afterwards,
Holding you with each glance.
Like my tears falling down,
For sake of our reunion,
In the very moment,
Your lips meet mine.
Like butterflies dancing,
Inside my belly,
On romantic beats,
As your body embraces mine.
Like your touch,
On my untouched flesh,
Soaking me in your love,
Its every single drop.
-
As she stood in the meanwhile,
All at sea holding stuff to compile,
Shrugging off mentalities that revile,
But she'll go the extra mile,
Inspired by words, written in style.
As she stood amidst constant fret,
Entirely pastel, unlike vignette,
To triumph over a long-ago threat,
She'll go the extra mile,
Shedding no tears, but sweat.
She stood below the magnificent sky,
Unfurling her wings to fly high.
With joyous vibe her heart passes by,
Oh, she'll step the extra mile,
Surpassing the conjecture of thy.
~Ishita Kathuria
-
On flipping over the pages of my poetry book,
Espied words that I've overlooked,
Found 'em printed as a backup,
But that ink has now dried up.
In them, I wrote 'bout my dreams,
'Bout moonbeam and poetic themes.
Found 'em resting for a checkup,
But that ink has now dried up.
The ink, once soaked game plan,
To be transformed into a kind penman.
Found those dreams breaking up,
'Cause that ink has now dried up.
Unlike all, I chose scientific road,
Which parted me from writing ode.
Found my pen tough to holdup,
And I myself left the ink to dry up.
-Ishita Kathuria
-
From the seeds
of attachment,
Promises grow into the
fruit of commitment.
As the flowers of faith,
Promises blossom in
the garden of love.
-
To breathe free,
Inhale the essence of
dawn and twilight,
Taste the flavour
of limitless skies,
And paint your world
with poetic dyes.
-
Ere the emergence of silver Moon,
Solus souls, treated with melodic tunes,
In a wait to witness the sparkling hues,
Wolves to howl off their blues,
Ere the emergence of Snow Moon.
Those strategic resolutions they choose,
Fantasies, all mixed with spiritual booze,
To behold the radiance of that sheeny balloon,
For which historifies the Wolf Moon,
Wolves to howl off their blues as soon,
Ere the emergence of Snow Moon.
-Ishita Kathuria-
Back then when I ran into the illusions of intimacy,
The dexterity of mine was at extreme level of intricacy.
My flares, all scattered to abut the glare of stars,
For shadows of mine were rushing to escape my shores.
Strength of my perceptions started to reach the skies,
My mind, comprised with the impression of illusions beyond lies.
The illusions, I doubt as the charm of amity,
The doubt, I fantasized as the metaphor of infinity.
Lately, when I was encircled around those illusions,
Phantoms of intimacy concluded me with the reality of seclusion.
As illusions were entirely pastel for my shimmery beliefs,
Actuality dusted off my untrue suspicions to relieve.
-Ishita Kathuria
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