A sip of tea, And a glance That we exchanged , Sitting at a quiet cafe, Where our stories blossomed … Two strangers, Just so world apart … Yet here we met Beneath the cozy ambiance, And our hearts beat – A strangely warm tune …
With every swirl of steam With every stir of sugar – The fragrant brew gradually becomes A well-woven fantasy … As we shared our tales …
There’s a bridge between us, As we sip and shared… No need to fuss though … Each word a melody Each sip a dance In this tea date We found romance ….
Time passes Paths diverge From distant lands or Just down the street For in this simple rendezvous, Our soul found A connection so profound …
What if it all works out? What if you get that call? What if today goes unexpectedly well? What if you have what it takes? What if you meet someone unexpectedly? What if today you make the day best with what you have? What if someone is praying for you? What if you receive that one mail? What if someone has special feelings for you? What if someone tells you that? What if you go on that trip with someone for a day or two? What if the trip takes you to another state of mind? What if you return with a complete different state of heart? What if you do not know what’s next? What if the best is yet to come? What if great things are on the way? What if you don’t search for any answer? What if the answer is within you?
I love all the ‘What ifs’ … What ifs’ give me hope …
What broke your heart so bad That you had to close every door, That you say you have a dark soul And can’t utter the word ‘love’ anymore?
Sanhita Baruah
Quite heartbroken wounded words these are, yet so beautifully expressed, I think. So I sharedwith you all …
I loved these lines so much that I even tried to recite in my naive voice. About the recording and my voice, I think I sound too childish, and that makes me feel nervous about it. It might sound boring to some, and it’s a bit dramatic also, as if I was actually telling you …
Between the lines of a muted conversation, Unspoken tales form a quiet foundation … Heartbeats echo the stories concealed, In the silent spaces, emotions revealed …
Gaman/ japanese (n.) Gaman is a Japanese word of Zen Buddhist origin which means ‘enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity’. The term is generally translated as ‘perseverance’, ‘patience’ and ‘tolerance’ …
The shadow cast On that starless skies, Where murmurs linger, Subdued goodbyes … A tune of melancholy’s song, In thy heart where echoes long …
Oh this melancholy, My silent guest, A tear-stained story, unspoken, and so blessed The weight of contemplation In shades of gray, In twilight hours, grips its sway …
A canvas painted with dull hues, A whirlwind of memories, tattered and bruised … Through hazy veils of nostalgic dreams, The world in silent sadness gleams …
A poet’s pen on pages bare, Twisted verses of a sincere prayer … Thy melancholy’s tender art, Nothing but a symphony of hurting heart …
Yet, in the depth of still despair, Belongs a beauty, rare and fair … A gentle solace for the mind In the shadow of the ancient find …
So let the tears of misery flow Like mists on a window’s glow … For in melancholy’s gentle grace There lies a balm for life’s embrace …
When I was a little girl, everything in the world fell into either of these two categories: wrong or right. Black or white.
Now that I am an adult, I have put childish things aside and now I know that some things fall into wrong and some things fall into right. Some things are categorized as black and some things are categorized as white. But most things in the world aren’t either! Most things in the world aren’t black, aren’t white, aren’t wrong, aren’t right, but most of everything is just different.
And now I know that there’s nothing wrong with different, and that we can let things be different, we don’t have to try and make them black or white, we can just let them be grey.
And when I was a child, I thought that God was the God who only saw black and white. Now that I am no longer a child, I can see, that God is the God who can see the black and the white and the grey, too, and He dances on the grey!
Now that I’m an adult, I no longer think about right or wrong …. I’m just aging gracefully and with a smile Rushing through life’s most beautiful turns and moments … Where it doesn’t really matter What anyone will say …
Now that I’m an adult I no longer feel the necessity To be understood … If I become a good listener and can walk away from the unnecessary chaos around me … That’s enough for me …
Now that I’m an adult I understand me well …. I dance on the clouds … I fly high … I sing in the rain … I make friendships with strangers, If they’re black, white, brown or grey, it doesn’t matter… I trust the path … I enjoy the journey … I reach to where there’s only peace, love and only smiles … I have built a place where sorrows hide and love flying free and high … Thereon my soul itself becomes a love, true love all the time … And God is the God who loves me as I’m … He is ‘Okay’ with my colors whatever that is And keep a smile for me out there high above; Till the time comes to meet my Lord I embrace that colorful space with all my heart, and, fulfill my much needed soul’s quest … Grey is okay, I understand And I love colors though …
I’m sorry I took a lot of time I never thought You would notice let alone ask me about it …. So I am a bit nervous, feeling a bit overwhelmed It’s a bit difficult for me … Can the answer wait? I may reply a bit later but I don’t know May be or may be not … If I do not take time now And say that I wish to say … Then it may sound vulnerable Again it may or may not be To you; I do not know …. Just your presence lingering for a long, long, long time now without a trace of heartache … And it’s better unsaid to you … May be or may be not But I’ve never been happier to fall like this … And then I’m a bit upset also That you’ve noticed Even if you noticed Why did you have to ask me? You made me awkward … And that’s why I was a bit upset … Couldn’t you be silent? There are so many things to tell I have so many words to say May be not now, or may be now I believe it’s happening You’re becoming my idle thoughts … Then what’s the fuss about it? Then what’s that ‘May be or may be not’ at all? …
She’s truly honest In her honest prayers … Though within her unspeakable despair And impossibility, She couldn’t go away far; But always come back quite inevitably …
All frailties alone cast upon Her feeble hope that always exits; Her nature reigns upon her own soul … She holds on to her faith; yet so unfair her torments, Make the despair ever greater Widening her tears itself betwixt, She watches feebly all souls’ cruel wits …
Impossibility goes not to heaven Like a weak and an easy prey; Thinking is not same as knowing, So at her best, she spends in praying, Trusting each and everyday. At times, she tries to cease time But not her endless pray ….
(Whatever you wish: You know that you know But know you not; Truth is her lord And always you shall be; ‘My dear, (she whispers) I’ll serve what you deserve, Even if you talk So ungratefully. :Whenever you wish)
The injustice rankles yet More often loving comes to her aid. It is always worth keeping, Her emotion that rises and trips away springs; For the sake of her truth, she brings The words that breathe a reason Scaring the unfinished conversation even with self …
Though her skies are too dark (at the moment) With flowers in odor and in hue in sight, Now she excludes all and wanders through the night … Being more calm and bright, Letting all her doubts, thoughts and emotions pass by To enter the heaven, the endless light,
Lastly, she takes her flight.
So long, she loved at her best, A bittersweet farewell to her dear is the rest … She writes her last inscription just to let you in, ‘Please don’t hurt my soulful prayers, Forgive my selfish tears …. As I would take rebirth in this world, With my passion for you Deep, and fully blooming And quivers with bliss.’
Above, a bit complex verses, though I think it’s fine …
In a poem I usually use whatever can be called the melody long before I have reached an understanding of all that it might mean. Sometimes I think I can use that to my hearts’ fullness and other time I feel that it’s unfinished yet again conveying the emotions which convince me to love it as it is … To me, poetry attracts when only emotions endures ….
Sometimes somehow I feel funny writing all these letters of love. Then sometimes somehow I know somewhere someone may resonate all of my these simple, plain and quite undecorated letters of love for themselves … And then all the time I know that the letters of love may differ from person to person, but the in-depth feelings of love remain the same…
Roksana Tales 