Tag: beautiful

inspiration, poetry, Souful

SURREALISM – Pink Lilies

TulipBrook

I love lilies- in the garbs of whites, yellows, and pinks. These pink lilies in my garden became a part of my surreal journey. Another beautiful dream that poured out poetry from my soul. 

Lilies in my garden

The Lines

The monsoon raindrops infuse exuberance in life, The vreezy air caressing the plants like a melodious fife, Little beauties in pink attire, Glow in the light of cosmic fire, Glorifying the existence of this nature, Which exists in every creature, Reminding one to effortlessly align, With the master’s design, And experience the bliss this life is.

LILLES: LIGHT: SURREALISM

inspiration, poetry, Soulful

Surrealism- If I were a painting

TulipBrook

Dreams are meant to be beautiful. The surreal world is a place of innumerable opportunities. Unleash each one of them in the most magical manner possible. The afternoon sky- white cottony clouds scattering the sunlight, make me wonder how about painting this in rainbow colors. What a magical way to express myself on the canvas of the sky.

The sky is my canvas

The Lines

If I were a painting,

Ill be this afternoon sunkissed sky,

A milky white base, 

Then a tinge of powder blue,

With a hue of aurora pink,

And a streak of sea moss green,

With splatters of fiery red,

Zesty orange and mid noon yellow,

A speck of sapphirine blue,

With a dotted night indigo,

A tint of forest brown,

And a deep undertone of monsoon grey,

Showing all the colors of me,

In varying intensity and shades,

Reflecting beautifully my persona,

And portraying deeply my emotions.

SURREALISM: SKY: PAINTING

poetry

A Beautiful Life

TulipBrook

Life is beautiful every single moment. It is us who make it look ugly with our cloudy thoughts of grief, guilt, and self-deprecation. The light exists always; it is just concealed by the darkness of our moribundity. Let’s reclaim this beauty through a poem.

Light shall shine…

The Lines

How trapped am I?
I occasionally poked myself,

Whenever I turned into,

A grumpy gloomy cloud,

Staining the sunny radiance,

Of the yore.


Then,

I washed those stains,

By bursting aloud,

Pouring out all that trapped me.


But,

It never happened,

with ease,

And I,

With weary, frantic eyes,

Looked for another cloud,

Which could cause another thunder,

Where we share our saddened vibrations.


But,

This turned into an ordeal,

A vicious cycle,

That increased the pain,

Caused by the heaviness of other clouds.

That’s what addiction is,

It smothers you for a while,

Gives a moment of ecstasy,

And, then,

Tortures you in every breath.


So,

I decided,

To release the burden,

All by myself,

With a sense of freedom,

Breaking all inhibitions,

All notions of fear and self-doubt,

And let the sun shine again,

In its full glory,

Outgrowing the years of yore,

To the pinnacle of senility.


That’s how life is,

Beautiful when stained,

And,

Even more beautiful,

When cleansed.

LIFE: PAIN: BEAUTY