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Please be a little slow, oh summer ! In sunflower fields , sleep a little, oh summer ! On mangoes and jackfruit logs where bees buzz and stuck With thy warmth lives bloomed with the grandeur of luck. Shaking of the drunken drowsiness of Spring . All in a tune those sun soaked afternoons
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This time last year, when my best friend and I were discussing how pretty sundresses were, I didn’t anticipate a trend starting in the United States, where young men and women have become equally obsessed with colourful, graceful sundresses. In a world where we can all wear whatever we
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Your eyes. Your beautiful brownie eyes. They remind me of the season autumn . The way they shine feels like falling leaves in golden skies. Soft as whispers that comfort my soul, A warmth that stays and makes me feel whole, A golden fire that makes me feel comfortable. And every
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Here’s to reaching out to an end of me, Stranded by multitudes of blockades. The rift came along, and I survived, Not by my own self, but supported by their deft hands. What’s unseen, though, are the silent touches of friends. They saw me, even when I was
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I pressed my head against the cool glass of the window, my gaze cast downwards, focused on nothing but the clouds that clung together. Trees flooded with purple balls of blossom intertwined, swaying in the light breeze, as tiny sparrows planted their delicate feet upon the thin branches. I found
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Bumblebee cold, Bumblebee blue. If I boot that around with a leather laced shoe. Bumblebee buzz, Bumblebee fly. Once I find out the main reason why. Trapped in narrow margins, between anger and hunger. I can see outside but can’t get there Someone shut me out and won’t
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Not a roaring thunder neither a hailing frost It's a March awakening with sunshine of joy While each sound insists to be that friend whose path yet not crossed With mine; winding leaves,survived seedlings. Distracted my thoughts those were meant To produce a fruitful verse sitting alone
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In the joyous and blissful state of mind, Where soul has not lost its luster, The unbecoming of self Is but a truthful obedience- The righteous path of inner being Is laid down, for the mind to conquer. Yet conquest here is not of stillness , But filled with rigours of
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They sing songs of my freedom, So I spread my wings, and soar across the sky. Feathers brush plump cloud, Withdrawing and revealing the golden halo, That is the king of the sky. He rises to greet his loyal subjects, sky, cloud, and me. The song of the heartbeat. Peace
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One of us will leave first; I pray it is I. Prepare the coffin and lay me to rest. Look upon my face one final time. Cast the sand we gathered by the sea, and let fall a single tear for all the years I will not see.
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Two souls walked in tandem, Unmistakably synchronized. The roads crumbled into a playground. The walk through elation To critical observers, They felt it suggested a mystical chemistry. The hoping, the playfulness, the exhilaration of intimacy, Manifested a giant spectacle. We drew up a conversation. Outwardly expansive and soulful. The conversation
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Sitting Steadily Quietly Wondering Viciously Restlessly do I know this feeling have we met before do i call it by its name do I know its name? is it the loneliness that creeps quietly in me, and hangs its long, dark coat on my heart pulling it down making it