A Letter to You

Hello, this is you,
You, a bouquet of flowers,
You, a night sky full of stars,
You, a passing minute on the clock,
You, both wind and rock,
You, emotions unknown,
You, stand alone

A nasty nightmare, the shadow of evil
The ugly thoughts, the emotional upheaval
A searing pain that breaks the heart
Breaks the soul and tears apart, 
Broken mirrors put to shards,
An impending doom begins to start, 
You try to fight, you go to war,
You can’t escape, it’s who you are
The hunger, the filth, the brutal akin,
The roar, the shriek, the demon within,
The demon within

Sunlight, warmth, blossoming buds,
Fruits on trees, trees on earth,
Giggles and whispers, a heart that smiles, 
A good and healthy lifestyle
Stories untold, a future to behold,  
A nest that is full of life 
A warm embrace that feels like heaven 
Butterflies in the gut, a spark in the eye
spirit like a bird, ready for flight 
Birds spanning the sky with their wings
Running on the grass, and the joy it brings

The joy 
The joy that brings a gloom along 
There are no lyrics in this song
Darkness prevails within and beyond,
There is no dew on this lawn 
The hidden moon behind the clouds
A crippling silence that lives in the veins 
The bruises, the scars, the ruthless stains 
The head that drains, of all good dreams 
The unrelenting voice that screams, 
And asks you to cry 
To weep
And break 
To break 

You are also a dreamer, with wings so wide,
Medals of honor and mementos of pride 
The stage you find, is the stage you own,
The talents they see, are the ones you hone,
Motivated, inspired, a treat for the sight, 
The one that steals the spotlight,
A book that never ceases to impress 
A will that never gets to recess 
Stories in the head, more than stories in the shelf,
You aren’t a part, you’re the show itself
The show itself 

Behind the mask, a fear survives,
What is your worth in their lives?
You shy away from the man who wins
It scares you to break the discipline
A dilemma rides your soul sometimes, 
You wonder if love is worth a dime 
You hold a hand, you don’t want to be alone,
You don’t want to be the umbrella that is just blown,
Away with the wind, to an uncertain stop,
You want to be guided, but also not

You cry and you hate,
You fear and you relate,
You smile and you frown,
You envy and you drown,
In a world of emotions, and feelings unknown
Sometimes you have to stand alone,
But why is that so bad?
This is your world, just yours to have 
Hello, this is you 
And you are beautiful 

© 2020 Anusha Gupta and The Poetic Trance.

Anything and Everything

You could’ve been a cherry blossom,
But you chose to be a falling leaf.
You could’ve been a victory haul,
But you chose to be a sigh of relief.
You could’ve been the biggest fish in the sea,
But you chose to sit by the shore.
You could’ve been a breezy day,
But you chose to be a downpour.

I could’ve been an observer, a character in your book
I could’ve been a low river, a shallow brook.
I could’ve been a hello, or an instant goodbye,
I could’ve been the December to your July.

You can still be a dying leaf,
But I will support you in grief
You could still be a low sigh
I’ll be the bookmark to happier colors of your sky
You could still be too afraid to dive into the sea
I’ll be by the shore, I’ll set you free
You could still be thunder and rain,
I’ll be all the seasons, spring will come again.

You could be anything, and I will be everything

Broken Mirror

Love, they say is quite eternal,

Living in monuments, and cemeteries

What they say is quite fraternal

Breathing life in dead weeds

Love, they say, is an ocean of pain,

Hurdles breaking lovers apart

What they say is quite insane

It’s something that, plunders the heart

Love, they say, is a peaceful myth,

Those who believe, seldom cry,

What they say is quite a fit,

Of the beautiful hearts in which it lies.

Love, they say, is a sad nightmare

Where broken things pour down like rain,

What they say is quite a prayer

For its a nightmare you would want again.

Love, I say, is a broken mirror,

Dried up tears, a fallen tree,

What I say is quite clear,

It’s one thing that consumes me.

 

Aurora

It takes grueling strength,
To surround yourself with snow,
And still start a fire in your soul.
A penetrating cold,
Covers your bones,
But still keep spring alive in heart.
Only after you’ve paid,
Only after you’ve drained,
Do you grasp the Aurora.
A mixture of hues, we have never known,
Something much more than mere beauty.

For the gardener, Aurora is the plant,
That blooms on its deathbed.
For a beggar, it is a grateful meal.
For an artist, it is a masterpiece.
For a tired player, Aurora is the honorable medal.

You only get this wonder,
After a nasty brawl,
If it doesn’t take all you have,
Is it Aurora at all?

What’s your Aurora?

© 2018 Anusha Gupta and The Poetic Trance.

We are poetry

We are all, made of words,
These mountains, rivers and birds,
There’s poetry, inside of you hidden,
We all are stories, waiting to be written.

A Potted Plant

Spring comes with its own air,
Filling the Earth with life and flair.
In my garden, a potted seed awaited its birth,
Just like many others, to adorn the Earth.

And soon enough, a little leaf, opened its eyes
What birth-giving magic in the soil hides?
Then came others, celebrating their birthday,
Aspiring in their minds, to become a big plant one day.

They had their meals and drank good water,
And grew into a plant, no longer shorter.
Then came a bud, and another,
The plant watched them bloom like a proud mother.

If ever, you’ve known beauty, the plant was much more than that,
Young and green, on nutritional soil it sat,
One day a bird came panting and sour,
The plant her to sit in her home, as she’d come from far.

They talked a little, first a bit shy,
Then no day passed when the bird didn’t stop by.
She built a little home in the pot,
For the plant and the bird liked each other a lot.

One day she came and sat for long,
Gave an egg and life along.
I saw the little wonder and thought it’ll die,
If I pour in water, it will never touch the sky.

The plant was brave, said she was fine
But she withered and aged, before her time.
Few leaves stopped breathing as the egg did thrive,
And the love for it kept the plant alive.

One day the egg, cracked up in life,
As though the plant had actually revived,
And as the home lit up by the baby’s sound,
The last leaf of the plant touched the ground.

© 2018 Anusha Gupta and The Poetic Trance.

You are Fortunate!

Do you see the boy working at the flower shop?
Do you hear about the women who fight for their right?
Do you feel the pain of the beggar who is ill treated?
Do you think of the people who are killed in the fight?

Have you ever wondered of the old and sick?
Or the homeless hawkers and garbage they pick?
Or the ones who have lost their speech or vision?
Or the little child who runs the home and makes decision?

There are many in the world unlucky,
Whose eyes cannot get any wetter.
Stop complaining, you are very fortunate,
Go make someone’s life a little better. 

 

© 2018 Anusha Gupta and The Poetic Trance.

 

Beyond Definitions

Some might think that I am pretty,
Others might think that I’m rude,
Most of them will think what am I,
Cunning, silly or shrewd.

Some will love me, some will hate,
Some will be afraid to state,
Sometimes your eyes can lie,
Maybe people are different from conceptions of thy. 

Dearie you, I am much more than what you think,
I lie beyond the confines of your mind,
I am greater than adjectives,
I am not yet another girl, I am undefined.

What you think of me doesn’t matter,
I might be the destroyer of my own glory,
Before you have any definitions for me,
Just remember, you know my name, not my story…