Summer Rains

Laden wisps of the sky,

Deeper than the deepest dye

Paint the summer day dark,

Answering to some murmuring lark.

The dusty shades are all washed clean,

And some distant peacocks laugh and preen,

But someone sure knows the source of this treasure trove -

These are all but tears from above.

Untimely and uninvited, the rain still falls

Wet eyes see as melancholy crawls.

But thoughts still are drawn, staring at the sky,

If it can let go why can’t I?

Life is not like rain, for it is all in rewind forever

But rain lets go of the summer pain; that is for us to remember.

- Vaisakhi Mishra

Wave Of Despair

The chords of grief reverberating deep,
The rendition of sorrow, to which the Fates sway.
My frozen stone heart is now melancholy’s keep
As a wave of blue washed my life away.

The castle of memories is now ruins of past;
Home, a family, kins - now none remain.
A never fading gloom is now my sinking ship’s mast.
Austerity of nature left me under the unknown’s reign.

Pulverized future, all that breathes around is dark,
But it’s not just me; many have fallen in this trap.
Everywhere my eyes see the terror of death – stark!
Mocked are we now, by sympathy’s knife - edgy and sharp.

Like a phoenix from ash, I may rise again or may never;
But now on to the end, despair will be my pal forever.

- Vaisakhi Mishra

P.S. - The thought behind this poem was of 'a person who has lost everything in a tsunami.'

MARTYOSHKA

I am in and I am out,

Confused me to confuse all,

I bear the pain of secrets to kill,

I am sealed within myself, with a spell.

I crack and I am back,

I am layered, to fool;

But I want a way out-

‘Cause I reduce with each pull.

I have many faces but I am just the same.

Decipher me to survive, it’s nearly death’s game.

Kingdoms failed and people slain

Just to know what I hide for ages, in vain.

This is my song, this is my tale;

I am the oldest “Matryoshka” of the Czarland.

-VAISAKHI MISHRA

p.s.- "Matryoshka" the word i used in my poem is short for Matryoshka doll. The Matryoshka dolls are the nested wooden Russian dolls.

I SEE YOU...

A red aura and a glowing face;

Love silently chiming along the church bells;

Transfixed, yet blushing with a shining gaze,

Gracefully you pave the flower trail.

Smiling like a blooming morning glow,

Telling me of love that we redefined;

Staring with an emotion – I just don’t know;

I hear your heart pounding in rhythm with mine.

The crowded world fades into unwantedness,

All I see is you, my princess to be.

The serene white dimmed by your innocence,

I feel the silence simply conversing with me.

Nothing matters to me, nothing at all,

As I see you now, walking down the aisle.

-VAISAKHI MISHRA




P.S.- unwantedness is no actual word...i just used it to tell about the feeling strongly in a word...

SUGAR...

Inhaling the thick hot vapours around,

Treading on the metal-my last touch on ground;

Ready to dive in a well of bitter coffee,

Satisfied with the thought-‘I’ll make someone happy.’

Wonder as I dissolve, if most humans could be such-

Defeating bitter harsh world with soft sugary touch;

Mixing, where needed, without any trace,

Icing happiness in their own unique ways.

I break and break, to sweeten things on the whole,

Without breaking cookies or brimming cups at all.

I bind and freeze, to keep things together;

Without me would Turkish delights be any better?

I am used in everything that’s called celebration.

Even cocoa is relished due to my intervention.

-VAISAKHI MISHRA