Coffee, Tea or Cocoa?

A shot of sunshine in my coffee

Like a piece of rainbow in my soul

A storm in my teacup

Rages before I’m whole

Life seems toasted

Like a mini marshmallow

Submerged in my cocoa

Put them all together and you’ll see

Beverages make me loco.

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Mum’s the Word

I was just a girl

With a whole lot to say

But lips sewn tightly shut.


You gave me a pen

And a scrape of waste paper

And the stitches fell away.


Words flew

Bled

And oozed

Across the dirty, stained page.


By the time I was done

I was undone.


As I watched every surface

Slowly overrun with scribbles

I allowed myself to smile.


For I was just a girl

With a whole lot to say

But lips sewn tightly shut


Yet, till the time I have words

At my mercy

I’ll always find a way.

Scenarios

In the best of cases

You’d be alive

Without victories under your belt

And feathers in your cap

Rich, for your experiences

Richer, for your successes

Richer still, for all your failures

Better now

Than when you started

Hopelessness’ despair

You’d have thwarted

So do it

Give it your all

Take life by the horns

Because

In the worst of cases

You’d be alive

With more than a breath left in you

Why A Poet #9

I was making a list

Of some of my favourite things

And my pen leaked

A blob of royal blue ink

I watched as it spread

Forming a myriad of shades

Sometimes changing hues

And I realised

My most favourite thing

Is to observe what I see

And pen it down in poetry

So I may remember the mind’s complex mysteries

For all of eternity.

Are you aware of this blog’s running series on why one writes poetry?

No?

Fret not!

I’m popping the links down below and would love to hear what you think! Most of all, I await your own take on why poetry.

Love,

Varnika

Links:

  1. Why A Poet
  2. Why A Poet #2
  3. Why A Poet #3
  4. Why A Poet #4
  5. Why A Poet #5
  6. Why A Poet #6
  7. Why A Poet #7
  8. Why A Poet #8

A Star is Born

Sometimes in my mind

The heavens and earth collide

Like an explosive segue

Transitioning to a beautiful aftermath

And I see colours

And squiggles

Little dots and curls, a pot-pourried confetti

Sometimes

I even see

A rainbow-esque bridge

And when I walk on it

I know

That

A star is born