This Is Not A Poetry

This is not a poetry;

 

Not the one that you are familiar with.

 

This is a sigh; The wail of my heart;

 

The one that you refuse to envisage

 

And here I live; Out in cold, homeless

 

Homeless, since your heart was my home;

 

In which, now resides your arrogance and vanity

 

If only you could see through and perceive,

 

And could discern the difference.

 

 

This is not a poetry

 

Not the one that you are familiar with.

 

This is a different sky; The sky of my visions;

 

I recurrently go on excursions across it

 

And spread the wings of my dreams so wide;

 

That they could just bolt away and glide high,

 

Outrageously high; Along I fly with them too;

 

Befitting into the cocoon,

 

Obliterating every possibility of defeat.

 

 

This is not a poetry

 

This is a different season; The season of my desires

 

Could there be another winter so cold;

 

And I could lie torpid sans obligations

 

Could there be another summer so hot;

 

I could walk barefoot destitute of getting burns

 

Could there be autumn so beguiling and vivid;

 

All I could want is to be surrounded with peace,

 

Vibrance, Tranquility and Quietude.

 

 

This is not a poetry

 

This is just a piece of my heart;

 

Of all the likeness and distinctness of my feelings

 

This is the contour of my sketch;

 

Finding  it’s purpose through the canvas of my soul

 

This is a ditty;

 

I would utterly love to sing out loud.

 

 

“My hope is to be hopeful enough;

 

To spot the light even at the darkest end of the tunnel”
Picture Credit- From here
 Share your thoughts with me at dipanwiita@gmail.com

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