poetry, Soulful

Surrealism – The Magenta Blossoms

Dreams are a encounters of a different kind. Sometimes purely blissful, sometimes horrifying to the core. I share one such dream I had last night. What better way than by expressing it in the form a poem.

a hedge of magenta blossoms in my garden

The Lines


Another dreamy encounter,


As I reach in a jiffy,


A far away terrain,
Sun’s radiating gloriously,
A beautiful mesh of rays,
Covering this earth,

Like a bride’s veil,
Beautiful when worn,
And even more beautiful,
When lifted.

A tiny amber boulder,
Near the magenta blossoms,
Invites me to a soirée,
Filled with fantasies,
And
lores,

Of fairies and angels.

The very resplendent sight,

Bewitched me in entirety,

And I sat on the boulder,

Ready to traverse,

A journey beyond a path,

Beyond any destination.

SURREALISM: DREAM: BEAUTY

poetry

A Beautiful Life

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

quotes

Interludes III

Friday it is, another week ends. The weekend starts. This makes little sense in lockdown, where all days are the same. It might bore some of you, depress a few, and for some, it’s sheer blankness to even figure out one is feeling inside. For all the lovely souls out there, a little inspiration to feel the balmy sun in a stark overcast too.

Value of sunshine in an overcast

Stay happy, stay motivated. Cheers !!!

Life: Time: Hope