She.

As i sit back on my lawn, letting the grass grow around me, unknowingly gazing at the streetlight ahead which is rather merely glowing, seducing the melancholic darkness; observing people around me, people sedated by monthly salaries;

And I’m swayed to her thoughts again, just like any other moment. An angel i never dreamed of yet dreamt, a girl i never imagined to love;

So how does she turn my heart into a raging beast, pounding and clutching my ribs with every touch?

For i braved to look beyond her skin, scars and bones, to gaze at her soul, which was a bouquet of all beautiful things which humans couldn’t dare to dream of.

She always questioned herself of not being good enough.

For

She is art,

She is poetry,

She is better.

-animesh

Oblivion

it’s astonishing, how sometimes memories are mere scattered papers gasping for a hurricane to be blown away beyond the horizon of emotions..

a few years back, I met you through my laptop screen..stared at your picture with a mouthful of forevers..

never met you then, yet the stars which peeped through the window every night before I fell asleep were enveloped with teenage pipe-dreams safeguarding our little wishful infinity…

now, the memories are still alive yet, somewhere lost..like the estranged G-talk icon on my desktop, long forgotten to be logged in..

you may curse our damned generation..but, she was the warmth which kept me alive through the winters of my life..

and maybe, memories are just meant to be consigned to oblivion..

-animesh

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Artwork by Hades and Parsephone

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Lies

So, it’s been exactly 53 weeks since i started writing, and completed a month of blogging here too!
It’s an amazing feeling that it has reached out to 60+ countries now!
#PoetryIsNotDead

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Half Past Dead

with a ruined mascara she kept sliding fingers across her cellphone screen.. staring at men who failed to love her swept by like tides, one by one..

but I swear, if it were me, I’d shed my skin, my bones, till the very beat of my heart is visible to make you realize how severely I wanted to take the beauty of your soul to my grave..

because, I relentlessly believed that you had madness sprinkled on your bones..but, there was no one daring enough to penetrate into the wilderness..

every night I spent hours to create words that’d let you unearth the hidden magic in you..yet, the amalgamation of ink, paper and cigarette ashes failed to fuel the warmth of your body..

by the time I looked at the clock, it was half past dead..

-animesh

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Artwork by Norvz Austria

Shades of men

for the umpteenth time she whispered, “I’ll never fall in love again!”

…but like the clock’s pendulum which kept her from falling asleep through the darkness encased night, she kept falling in & out of love for better shades of the same man..

-animesh

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IC- Broke Bibliophile

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Labyrinth

how wonderful it is to walk on an estranged street on a cold winter night…

the lights showered happiness..the walkway was paved with love..the only stranger was his shadow walking by, skipping through the dry leaves..

ah! and then amidst the zigzag of alleys came a cul-de-sac..

in that moment, the silence made his bones clutter & he understood that walking through the boiled-down infinity of life was no different than walking on a windy winter night..

the snow lying on the ground was like a quilt begging him to go to sleep..

yes,life is a labyrinth waiting to be escaped..

-animesh

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21st century love

what’s more disappointing than falling in love in our generation?

we have all fallen in love through radio waves..made love by tapping a screen..and discovered souls through digital photographs..

and, amidst all of it, unfriended soulmates..

-animesh

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IC- Broke Bibliophile

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Life or death

“There must be something in books, something we can’t imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don’t stay for nothing.”

― Ray Bradbury

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Animesh Photography©

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Walking down an alley

how amazing human beings are..

some find calmness walking down a busy alley..

yet, some crave for silence, failing to escape the chaos of a moonlight night..staying up late to safeguard the clock., where two strikes of the pendulum comprised of more secrets than her lips ever uttered..

the thoughts were ink..the moon was the half written book..

-animesh

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(photography and writing both done by me)

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