Who are you?

~Marta Vidiari

Who are you when you sleep? .. ⠀
There are two lives, for you and for me, ⠀
In one you think a lot, ⠀
and in another thoughts play with you. ⠀ ⠀

This is the world where you close your eyes, ⠀
and you open completely different doors with them … ⠀
you just go inside yourself, ⠀
You open another self … ⠀
And while you sleep, you’re happy there, you can afford it! ⠀
When you wake up, you see the reflection of another self … ⠀
Who are you when you’re not sleeping? … ⠀

I’m not a sentiment

~Neha Lekhak

I’m not anger.
I’m not fear.
I’m not cheeriness.
I’m not dismal.
I’m not anxiety.
I’m not empathic pain.
I’m not disgust.
I’m not arousal.
I’m not exhilaration
for the things felt on the spur of the moment.
I’m not “yelling at someone”.
I’m not “woah” ’cause you are just fascinated
by something I said.
I’m things other than feelings.
And emotions like these inside out.
I’m the mind of a child
whose memories are depicted by a glass orb
where my nature just spread.
So tell me, if you’d picturize me
by these aforesaid sentiments
How many colors of sentiments would you remember
by the images I sketch?

Let this, for you, be poetry…..

When pens and quills have all grown cold
take autumn’s glades of gleaming gold,
where fragrant fires and balmy breeze
do burn and breathe through trembling trees;
let this, for you, be poetry.

While lovers ‘neath the pearly moon
still sigh and sing and sweetly swoon,
with lips, that laugh and love and tease;
when beauty breathes from hearts like these;
let this, for you, be poetry.

When swifts and swallows swoop in spring
and skylarks soar aloft to sing,
while sun sets silent off the shore
and sea does seethe and rave and roar;
let this, for you, be poetry.

One day, when all the poets die
and in their graves the poets lie,
upon the heath, go fill your arms,
with honeysuckle’s tender charms;
let this, for you, be poetry.

~ Sahil Lakhmani

Sing Me To Sleep

~Neha Lekhak

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑰 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕
𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒆

𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕
𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔

𝑺𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆
𝑰 𝒃𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝑴𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒅𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒕...
𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 

𝑽𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒅𝒆𝒏
𝑨 𝑼𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂, 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 

𝑰𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒏𝒊𝒂𝒄 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 
𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒅 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑, 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆…

𝑨 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 
𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚 𝒈𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒏 
"𝑰𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒍'𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒕?", 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒚, 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒆 

𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒍, 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇
𝑰𝒇 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕, 𝑰'𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆

𝑴𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍
𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆
"𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔", 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓...
𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏, 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒍𝒆

"𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒘𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍?“, 
𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒎𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓
𝑾𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍,
 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒖𝒔, 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒘𝒏
𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒖𝒓, 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕

"𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓", 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒂𝒘𝒏.

The Lecherous Crime…

Insidious gaze

Circumspect ears

Wandering dark meadows

He stops and stares

Those carnal looks lustful

Luring her senses away

That booby trap profound

And she becomes his prey

Its love that brings her down

Love in his lusty eyes

Thwarted by his plans- malafide

Far and wise she flies

Swiftly he chases her

Startled, she turns around

Shot after shot, he fires

And she is brought to ground

Looking into his eyes

Profusely bleeding

“Grant me life, O’ Master!”

She starts pleading

Her broken wings

And shattered dreams

Breaks his heart

And guilt-traps him

“What have I done, O’ life!

A grave mistake

A heinous crime”

He sings his melancholy rhyme

After all the treachery

And all the lechery

Love is all that remains

He’ll love her forever

Until they die. 

Just one fact

She’ll never fly. 

~ Sahil Lakhmani