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Magnificence in perfection!


I have something to tell you
when you glade through the wondrous yonder
strewn with shining speckles

I have something to tell you
when you glide through the deepening waves
as they delve toward the main

I have something to tell you
when you rot and drop down from
the abode of your kin

I have something to tell you
when you slither onto the coarse sand
into the world underneath.

I have something to tell you
when you bask under the shine
as you munch stacks of gold.

I have to tell you something
as you guffaw in delirious tones
when the silver ball rises into the dark

I have something to tell you
as you swiften gracefully
with your magnificent feathers arched wide

I have something to tell you
when you hop into your tiny hole
with your furry paws in fear

I have something to tell you
as you open into your world afresh
every day as you wake up from your slumber.

Yes, You!
I have something tell you all,
that no matter what,
you are a pristine masterpiece
from the divine's hand.

No matter how you feel about yourself,
you are magnificence in perfection
in the curator's eyes.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Comments

  1. Had to google for the meaning of most words :) Nice poem :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. LOL no kidding Ganga :D Thank uuuu :)

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  2. Replies
    1. Thanks you so much Priya.. Glad to have a new reader.. :)

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  3. Replies
    1. Thanks a lot Kalpana.. :) Keep reading! :)

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  4. wow. brilliant writing, Gayathree.. :-)

    and i second GB.. lol.. tough words :p

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much Meera :) Your comments are most appreciated! :)

      Delete

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To write is to dwell

FEBRUARY 15th, 2012





















What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

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I'm too shallow to write a verse

I'm too shallow to write a verse To wrap around the twists and turns To dwell unto my own, I do Living somebody else's life or my own? Shrouded under piles of thought, I scribble, thinking only of the applause.
I'm too shallow to write a verse or two To make ends meet, I'm too cuckoo. I'm not the classic, scratching blue wooing 'em, tearing 'em apart  with every word.
I'm not the one who rhymes nor the one with notes for those lyrics. I'm the one who scribbles blotching blue on all my troubles, roiling over moments back and forth, trying to string those stray words, into at least a doggerel. See, I don't make sense.  I told you, I'm too shallow to pen that sonnet, that ballad, that haiku, that refrain, that ode.
I'm forcing it out all that gibberish snowballed  unto mine, to chime and rhyme  but nevertheless I realise in time, I'm to shallow to be read over cheese and wine.