Photograph

Fingers grazing over the frozen moments,
A longing gaze piercing through tears,
Those photographs come alive,
With your eyes dancing,
And mine lost in yours.
The smile that plays on your lips,
Forever etched in my heart.
A life relived
Beholding those photographs
The only way my eyes can still meet yours.

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When you are down in purgatory,
Fighting someone else's battles for them,
Chose yourself.

When you are in tatters over someone's broken heart,
Chose yourself.

When bruised and scraped,
Struggling in sole to hold the cord
Chose yourself.

When barely in slivers you lay,
shattering for someone ,who is never your whole.
Chose yourself.

Pick yourself and your pieces,
For no one ever will.

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In a million shards he lays,
With no one to pick.
Yet with those pieces,
Her heart, he yearns to stick.

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The last show - A tribute and dedication to all aspiring poets/writers of NaPoWriMo.


//Piece posted in captions//

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A veteran's letter

//Written in captions//

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An abode of acceptance,
Juxtaposed among judgments.
A sense of permanence,
In a world of fleeting presence.
A cocoon of comfort,
In the thorny neverlands.
A nourishing niche,
To the Earthly nomads.
A benevolent beckon
To be lost in Life's bosom,
Is this what home looks like?

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A Scythe bearing giver of grief,
That's how you know me.
Mitigation from the worldly miseries I offer
Won't you want me?
Cloaked in shadows, veiled in darkness
That's how you see me.
Your inner darkness, I clad myself in,
Reality don't you see?
Collector of souls,slayer of mortals
That's what you take me to be.
Messiah from your maladies
,A saviour from your sufferings,
Won't you let me be?
The truth of my arrival you fear constantly
Yet a thousand lies you live perpetually.
Pain and agony you bear lifelong,
Yet my eternal peace you refuse as it comes along.
Purveyor of life,
I birth you into afterlife
Yet DEATH is what I am referred to as.

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Death note
How we wished we had such a note,
Heroes all of us would make without a doubt.
Delusional were we to believe as such,
Just plain immaturity nonesuch.

Now to think of the world's state,
Is Covid Nature's own death slate?
Dropping bodies all around,
The ones who believed were safe and sound.
Just as Light got carried away,
Nature are you in a disarray?
For innocent lives are now cinders,
All in need for a few cylinders.

If Covid is Death note personified,
Why hasn't L yet arrived
And more importantly who's the Ryuk held classified?

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The Prophet" , he was a wise man,
Gathered around was the entire clan.
"Speak to me on" demanded the crowd,
Little did they know they would be wowed.
Pearls of wisdom,he shared,
On any topic they dared.
With any given theme addressed,
Thoroughly were the gathering impressed.
The words, in theirs hearts they etched,
Million were the lives,he touched.
For those words,they aren't just syllables
To any a reader they are life parables.

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What am I, if not with you?
Though benifits in ample,
I suffer withdrawal.
A recovering addict am I?
With aspirations in plenty,
Yet words turn empty
Writer's Block personified am I?
Once dark and laden with pain,
Now relieved as emotions rain
Empty thundercloud am I?
Thronged with scum and toxins once,
A pure life force thence,
A cleaned up Ganges am I?
A life sans you,
Was once unimaginable,
Now proven possible.

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