Micro Poetry #21

Words evade me

With a mind on overdrive

I’ve lost the will to write

Feelings consume me

Making me too alive

A dulling of senses

Is a much needed respite

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Of Simpler Times

I remember a time

When everything was much simpler

Smiles were freer

Frowns were fewer

Never ever shedding a tear

I could count on my fingers

Everything I held dear

Without a single fear

Days were somewhat shorter

Yet joyous moments tended to last longer

Nights were a tad cooler

Windows left open

Just like our hearts

Which were, of course, fuller

And gladder

I remember a time

When things were much simpler

Or

Have I just been dreaming?

Hello, my lovelies!

It’s been a minute since we last spoke. I was just wondering how everyone’s doing. Please do let me know! And I hope we can all look forward to better days ahead.

In other news, how lovely are these flowers (featured image) which I came across during a walk. Mother Nature does shows off at times and how!

As always, thank you for reading.

Yours,

Varnika.

Immeasurable

Who you are

When no one’s watching

Is the true measure of a man

They say

But who are you

Under watchful eyes?

Do you need to hide

Behind a curtain of disguise?

Do you have to pretend

With every breath that you take?

Are you scared of being revealed

Making slips from lips sealed?

Or

Do you need to lie

So they’ll think you’re mighty sly?

Who you are

When no one’s watching

Might make you feel at ease

But who are you

When trying to please

Will bring you closer to your

Own true self.

So, tell me, my dear

Do you know

Who you are?

Thank God It’s Friday?

On a Friday night

Just like any other

I lay in bed

Without a single bother

The town swirled around me

A blur of coloured lights

People rushed around talking

In a murmured buzz

It was a downright circus, aye

Like a merry-go-round

Running at a nauseating pace

While I stood silently still

At it’s very centre

Strung to it all

Feeling its ebbing throes

Yet disconnected from the throng

Like a marionette

The world passed me by

While I, the very epicentre

Felt like an innocent, dumb bystander

For on a Friday night

Like any other

I lay in bed

Without a single bother

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