Monday, 23 July 2012

The Lesser Known Truth.

The masquerade of philanthropy got revived,
After they looked into her dead soul,
From true colors to blue colors,
Everything lied flattered on the floor.

She breathed those corners even in her death,
In her life, though she bled;
She transpired the facades of thorns,
Knowing her fate was yet to be born.

The shovels of the black hearts stabbed her parts,
Like they were pawns to the dart,
Knowing lesser about their mortal intentions,
She drifted from deception to faith.

The last cord of desire hung loose again,
For the man of the departed that rose,
He covered himself in her blood;
And left the last stroke of his real self untold.

Long after she was gone,
They opened the grave of the less fateful,
She was all covered in filths of feather,
Lesser known by all, God’s Mother.

This poem based on the said Painting tries to say that the painting portrays that the World began with the Adam’s apple which was bestowed to the world after God’s mother gave him birth. The world was all red in her blood, until the apple was eaten away by Adam and Eve. Giving out this birth was a very difficult task for God’s mother and she tried to hide it away in a masquerade however there was one mistake that they made. Eve was an outsider, they shouldn’t have told her. She carved it out in a painting and so the secret got out. That’s how the beginning of the world is portrayed in this epitomic work.

I wrote this poem for a poem writing competition in which a poem had to be written over the mentioned painting.

Thursday, 5 July 2012

The Blood of Silence.

It flows down in me, the blood of my Grampa, the one who didn't speak much.
I am practically in the worst stance at the moment. Don't know where did I pick this up from. Now, it has become difficult for me to look into the eyes of people. I prefer looking at the ceiling or walls or the floor. I'm scared to look them in the eye. Anyone and Everyone. They scare me. All of them.
Not just that, I prefer my own self over company. It is becoming evident now.
Not that I was this kind of a person, I was someone who used to love company; infact I had to have people all around me all the time.
This ended somewhere until I got here.
Now, I like silence, even when it sometimes pains in the mouth after keeping mum for like hours.
I am not much of a TV person either, more of a reader.
These days, the definition of me is changing again.
Somehow, I've started to like this person.
But, sometimes I find myself in the wrong positions. Like when I'm in company, especially of those I know, I hate being there. I can't think straight then, all that's running in my head is when is the next moment alone. I end up suggesting wrong stuff or giving wrong answers, despite knowing the right ones.
This turn is not good. I'm practically impractical to a lot of them. They end up thinking like I have lost focus in my life. Doesn't bother me, but I prefer being without everyone, than being with any one at all.
This sounds a little anti-social, but this part of me is the best of every one I've been.
From being the outspoken, loud, hasty, loving person, I'm now a pervert, low esteemed, understated, quite, sit in the corner types. Except for my sister, I don't practically talk myself out to anyone. This leaves me with lesser friends and foes both. Quite Sober.
I think I'd like to stay this person. :) Atleast until I find someone else to be!

Monday, 2 July 2012

Unsaid Words.

And the evil momentum passed by,
taking away it's blues;
rose amongst the faded shades,
Sun amongst the darkest hues.

And the one who should've waited left,
not wondering what was to happen now,
They were all the same,
faces of slander, wrath and brawl.

The part of me that he took away,
killed out the left one,
and all that marked its presence,
was a loud shreak of silence.

From lefts to rights,
every curve gave away it's facade;
and crushed out the feel of pain,
the left outs were just a broth of vain.

Everything went back to nothing,
and took off with the filths of wonder.
And I was left by,
within nowhere to ponder.

Test of time is something everyone goes through, those times add shades of blue to our lives. We give up to grow up and take those memories to write our memoirs of hope.
And sonner or later, we rise again either with it or without it.

This is my last post at The Writer's Lounge.