Sparks Fly
Like the sizzling crackle of embers in dry firewood,
Like the million electric charges piercing barren land,
They were sparks that seemed like fireworks,
An entity so magical best left untouched.
Not dampened by the swirling clouds,
Left unscathed by the scorching heat,
They shone with a glow in their eyes,
Akin to fireflies glittering against the night skies.
Yet every radiant flame that ever shone;
Would know that its light was only a borrowed loan.
The embers that braved the external assault
Were extinguished by their own emptiness.
(16th November)
Raw.
The nervous quiver as I speak
The ugly bruise over my knee
The angry pimple on my cheek
Are honest watermarks of the real me.
The curves of my smile
That curl into a sarcastic jibe
The curves of my imperfect body
I embrace as my quintessential vibe.
But it is the starry dreams of my soul
That make me whole
And the fragile hopes in my heart
That sets me apart.
I speak with feet firm on ground
But with a spirit that soars abound
A heart enslaved by its own wrath
Yet raring to embrace the unknown path.
(26th November)
I am still coughing up in the library but the good news is that our fridge finally has some goodies for snacking in my compartment! The above nonsense was penned at odd hours when I was saturated with Hernias and Hydatiform Moles and decided to spill some thought-ink.
I want this year to end. ASAP.
Like the sizzling crackle of embers in dry firewood,
Like the million electric charges piercing barren land,
They were sparks that seemed like fireworks,
An entity so magical best left untouched.
Not dampened by the swirling clouds,
Left unscathed by the scorching heat,
They shone with a glow in their eyes,
Akin to fireflies glittering against the night skies.
Yet every radiant flame that ever shone;
Would know that its light was only a borrowed loan.
The embers that braved the external assault
Were extinguished by their own emptiness.
(16th November)
Raw.
The nervous quiver as I speak
The ugly bruise over my knee
The angry pimple on my cheek
Are honest watermarks of the real me.
The curves of my smile
That curl into a sarcastic jibe
The curves of my imperfect body
I embrace as my quintessential vibe.
But it is the starry dreams of my soul
That make me whole
And the fragile hopes in my heart
That sets me apart.
I speak with feet firm on ground
But with a spirit that soars abound
A heart enslaved by its own wrath
Yet raring to embrace the unknown path.
(26th November)
I am still coughing up in the library but the good news is that our fridge finally has some goodies for snacking in my compartment! The above nonsense was penned at odd hours when I was saturated with Hernias and Hydatiform Moles and decided to spill some thought-ink.
I want this year to end. ASAP.
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