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Showing posts from July, 2020

The Chettinad Palace

Hey Folks, I'm extremely happy to share that my poem has been published by 'In frame' magazine in their website. Thank you, InFrame magazine for this wonderful opportunity.  Do check it out and do share your thoughts on the same :)  https://www.inframe.co.in/the-chettinad-palace/ Love,  Swetha.  

Candle Flame

Concrete Poetry A  spark  of hope,  so thin and  bleak; the pale  luminous streak,  filling her heart  with immense warmth;  a solace amidst the dark  abyss she was consumed  by; instilling a belief  in miracles; lending  a form to divinity  and purity.  And,  the golden hues with a tint of  blue, making her heart flutter  with every little faint flicker.

Rainy Sunday

I peek through the half-drawn curtain,  The view, making my heart skip a beat;  Tint of blue and green, making me yearn,  For time to pause in this divine retreat;  Plants in my garden, swaying in ecstacy,  To rhythms of the patter of raindrops;  A cuckoo bird singing her quaint melody,  The cooing of pigeons perched on the rooftop;  Wet scanty land, devouring the dribble,  Graciously embracing the touch of sanctity;  Stealing my heart, little by little,  Capturing it in my soul, for eternity!

Spark of hope

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Image credits : Unsplash Vibrant hues of metallic silver,  the radiant gold dust shimmer, and the blinding light sliver;  A few moments later, I wake up from my slumber, Alas, its all my stupor, Now, the light grows dimmer,  Hopes getting thinner, The sparks begin to simmer. 

Yielding in nature's arms

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Image credits : Unsplash I. A forlorn feather Sitting by the rock with a face of forlorn hope, the girl stared into the far misty horizon. A white wilted feather landed on her shoulder as though caressing all her burdens away; The feather then fell on her lap, her eyes lingering on it. Frail, yet regal; dull yet mystic, juxtaposing its own self in so many different ways. A smile crept on her face, so pure and tender, as though a revelation had hit her! Slowly, a sense of tranquility overpowered her sorrows like the sky at sunrise, devouring the darkness.  _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Silenced.

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This poem is an ode to all those people who went unheard. Remember that it requires a huge shift to deviate from a parochial mindset. It doesn't happen overnight. One step at a time. Over time, you break free from the shackles. Let us remember that every unheard phrase is a lost perspective. Every lost perspective is a lost opportunity to explore.  Image credits : Unsplash  Constantly stifled and chided for stating his mind,  His voice was subdued by their conceitful notions;  Distraught and broken, he now yearns to be heard,  And his silent screams beseeching to be heeded;  Shackled and tormented in the prison of his mind,  The unspoken words plead for their liberation;  With the ghastly abyss taunting and engulfing him,  His mind calls truce, unable to accommodate chaos;  Shutting his eyes, he hopes for a better future,  Devoid of choked voices and muffled opinions. 

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