The Summer Invasion

The winds blew in collision,
Amidst winters- A summer invasion.
Hot in a moment,
Cold in another,
It seemed as if the weather passed evasion.

 

What similarity does it reap with humans,
All of them appear like hidden cannons.

 

The whistling of birds laugh at us,
As we crib making unnecessary fuss.
They say we never cease to fight,
Among ourselves about what is wrong and right.
And they laugh at this contrite.
Men O Men! You can never stop boasting about your false might.

Creating Priyanka

Image Courtesy: Google

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My Stability!

I knew not the word Stability,

If I had in me this Ability.

Until I met you,

The one among the few.

You taught me to live,

With mirth & adventure,

And flaws to forgive.

You taught me life comprises of moments,

And how to keep up with opponents.

The freedom in expression,

To be myself, without thinking of transgression.

The only constant planet of my galaxy,

I love you with all modesty.

CreatingPriyanka!

Image Courtesy: Google

Copying the Life of Norman

“Copying Norman,

Run down by the emotional van,

I feel nothing more than a empty can.”

Coming down from the office and sitting long in that closed cabinet, I keep staring at the 22 inches computer for hours, and keep googling how life can be interesting. It is the same activity I do mindlessly every other day. Booting the computer, listening to those long boring hum of the keyboard typing, and then passing heavy sighs. The trite is that I am sometimes declared to be nuts, when I try explaining things in my own way. I am wondering whether I have become an empty can, every one wants to kick.

I wish I were a book, to be passed on to different people and to which people become thoughtful towards after reading. It’s like I am copying the life of Norman, where the regularity is killing my creativity. Someone told me lately, that it’s very difficult to work within boundaries. I feel the odd gets cleaned up from within my system and I start feeling light. The psychology is pathetic, just like a time bomb ticking away, and is about to go BOOM”. I need a bomb disposal squad to stop it from bombing. Any suggestions anyone?

Heavenly Abode Lost

Heavenly Abode Lost

The restless weather curses me,
Why not fly back to your nest thee;
There where you always belonged,
Where thy heart longed.

The Lady waiting on the streets in those eager evenings,

Those roads are lost in the new beginnings.

Why then thy soul cries to return home,

The heavenly abode, my last dome.

The restless weather curses me,
Why not fly back to your nest thee;
There where you always belonged,
Where thy heart longed.

Priyanka Mishra Copyright Reserved@123/2014

Live Delusion!

” My heart is caught in a flame,

I know not how  should I tame.”

If you listen to your heart closely, you will find that we, a whole lot genre of humans, are often confused about what we are really into. I often speak to myself, imagining to be in  a different realm altogether. To save myself from the agony of boredom I am living everyday, I choose to create around me an imaginary world or a story, where i jump in and out whenever I feel like. This provides me solace that I have not ceased existing.

I slip into the hole of imagery to stop myself from getting ravaged and go writing about it nonsensically. Is there anyone out in the world, who shares the feeling is the question? The rugose on my forehead speaks otherwise. It makes me look like someone who is in a very pensive mood. And I love the camouflage.

I suppose this character becomes famous someday.

Dedicated:- To my future readers, who can perhaps relate to my eccentricity.