when the spotless sky
drips moonshine
in the shadows
of the crooked moon,
serenading
something inside,
luring into the light
bargained from the sun,
robbing through
the treasure
what dreams are
made of,
forcing to spill
the seeds on
the canvas,
for the gloom
to curse,
for the soul
to seep,
for the world
to clap,
for the eyes
to abhor.
Category: Scribble with a Scheme
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“FARCE” – Poem
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“STAY” – Poem
Stay,
like the froth on your upper lips
between the sips of hot chocolate.Stay,
like the lazy outline of your body
on the messed up sheet on my bed.Stay,
like the smell of your perfume
on my loose Calvin & Hobbes t-shirt.Stay,
like the few rogue strands from your bun
that always fall on your nose.Stay,
like the rasp in your morning voice
on the verge of grunted whispers.Stay,
like the hazel in your eyes
keeping off melting between the blinks.Stay,
like the smile that rests on your cheeks
while your soul dances in the rain.Stay,
just for a while
before you disappear again. -

“FIREFLIES” – Poem
We flicker in the moment
like a firefly
jiving in the pixie dust,
throbbing between
the mountains of ice,
wiggling down the rabbit hole,
bouncing off the river styx,
flinging from the banyan ropes,
gasping through
the glimmering skies.
We snicker among
the frizzy flies,
we flicker in the moonlight
like a firefly. -

“TWO SECONDS” – Poem
It’s funny how you find yourself
in the same space,
again and again,
until the umpteenth time,
when it is not funny anymore.When the rhetorical questions
don’t have answers.
When you seek
those two seconds
where you can pity yourself,
because you have to be strong otherwise.When you know
you are not running in circles,
but each turn seems to be familiar.
The thought of a life
that is going to play itself
just the way you know it would,
scares you.Just two seconds
before you close the doors
on your screams,
you let your voice loose,
even if nobody hears it.
Afterall, it is better
than people choosing
to ignore it knowingly.All this, in the hope
that your legs will not let you down
as soon as you put your weight on them,
to run away somewhere else.Maybe somewhere unfamiliar.
Maybe somewhere unpredictable.
Maybe a new home. -

“BLACK AND WHITE” – Poem
Had love been able
to be described,
in either jet black
or bone white,
we would have been
walking on the tightrope,
dead centre,
calling ourselves darkness,
labeling each other the light.
