Tag: poets

Inside my head.

What do I think about? Is it love or my family?
Or is it a wonder trip and all-nighters?

I think of rainbow unicorns,
with soft wavy hair like my mother used to have,
and a horn that sharpens as a spiral,
much like my thoughts.
It has eyes like me father’s,
and crooked teeth that remind me,
of my sister.
It’s my family unicorn and it gallops in the sky.
I love them.
It’s not perfect, but it’s beautiful.
Also ironically, real.

I think of Christmas trees,
with a line of golden bells and colorful things
that hold within them,
stories of smiles and tears.
It is green and smells like a new day,
and looks exactly like what I drew it to be,
back in second grade.
I am a pirate and it’s my treasure box.
I love my memories.
It’s not perfect, but it has a star.
Also ironically, the star is from the sky.

I think of hearts on the corner of folded pages,
with red sketched inside of it,
a red that reminds me of my girlfriends stubbornness,
and how she blushes.
The paper is creased but the heart is still complete,
and it reminds me of a very old,
romanticized war.
It is my life’s ‘profile picture’ and I’ve liked it myself.
I love sketching.
It’s not artistic, but it is elegant.
Also ironically, three dimensional and inside my body.

If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals

Previous post : The war has ended.
Related post : Palettes of life.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

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The one with women.

The number in the first two statistics are true and have been taken from here and here. This is here to spread awareness, and not to degrade or leave out men. Smile everyone! Also, leave a comment telling about what problems any one of you have faced.

One in every six women has been sexually assaulted,
and accused of “asking for it”,
or facing it because men,
(being the beasts that they can sometimes be),
cannot control their desires and should not be blamed for it.

One in every four women has been denied opportunities,
of climbing the gold-coated staircase.
The staircase of power and creative possibilities,
has been reserved for men,
(and at times women who agree to sleep with them).

One in every two women has a horror story,
to tell that will send shivers up your very existence,
for the story monsters are human beings
with pride horns and intentions like a sharp crooked teeth,
and darkness that doesn’t go away with a switch.

One in every one woman has given her all,
so that mankind can be kind,
and the world can be truly called a beautiful place.

If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals

Previous post: Family.
Related post: Life.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

A list of things about her.

This is probably the shortest poem I’ve written so far, but I really liked the concept and wanted to do it. I hope you enjoy this and share it!

Here is a list of things she smelled of:

Sunlight.
Beginnings.
Expensive perfume.
Hot chocolate.
Feelings.

and a list of things she looked like:

A crisp white shirt.
Sushi.
Sunset.
Christmas lights.
Love.

A list of things she reminded me of:

Empty vodka bottles.
Terraces and stars.
Neck kisses.
Smeared mascara.
The color of sunlight after it hits a bottle of whiskey.
Life.

A list of things she was:

A dragon-slayer.
A smile despite a tiring day.
A favorite song on repeat.
My auto-correct.
Human and alive.
Home..
Mine.

If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals

Previous post: How to: Be poetry.
Related post: Damn, your eyes.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

How to: Be poetry.

What makes you poetry? Let me know in the comments section below. Enjoy!

Hold a paw, and wake up to the woof or the meow of a furry cushion.
Travel, to the closest grocery store open past midnight and buy that candy you used to love as a kid.
Feel.
Let your chapped lips, which has been a Chandler (Straight, but seemed to be otherwise), light up into a crescent moon more often than you used to.
Cry into the lap of your pillow, don’t deprive your cheeks of the season of this rain.
Pick the scab on the wound you got as a hopeless romantic, and fall in love before it heals.
Realize that you have rhyme and reason in this universe.
Find the fire of your soul and let it burn your regrets as it crackles a song into your veins.
Show kindness as a first language in your degree of life. Water a plant and feed a duck for you never know what they’ll do to you in a parallel universe.
Be you.

If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals, @utsavraj_

Previous post: Languages, medicines and magicians.
Related post: Love thyself.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞