Poetry Published in the FIVE:2: ONE # Sideshow Magazine -“House”(Micro poetry)

Dear blogging family,

I could not contain my excitement to share this news that my first micro poetry along with spoken word got published in the #Sidehow part of the coveted FIVE:2: One Magazine. They are one of the esteemed Literary magazines referred to by Poets &Writers aka pw.org.I’m really thankful to the editor in chief, Nathan Schwartz for accepting my work.

FIVE:2: ONE is primarily dedicated to the transgressive, the progressive and the experimental. They love the hell out of the cross-genre scientists, the visual inventors, plucky linguists, non-narratives narrators, and especially the experimental weird babies. #Sidehow is an online journal of the FIVE:2: ONE which published the micropoetry, flash, art, and microfiction.

Please read the micro poetry “House” and also listen to the spoken word.

To be honest with you all since it was my first spoken word I was very nervous about recording and it shows in the recording.

Do leave and your precious feedback in the comments section.

Happy blogging!

Megha Sood

 

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Poetry published in the Dime Show Review – Heritage

You know you have hit a milestone in your poetry when you get published in a poetry magazine as esteemed as Dime Show review.

Dime Show Review is a curated collection of poetry and fiction featuring poets and authors from around the globe. Each story or poem is paired with a photograph taken by one of their intrepid world-traveling photographers. Their purpose is to engage and support the imperative to write and record and share.

Waiting for this for months and thanks to the editor in chief, Kae sable who agreed to publish my poem in both the online and in print in the coming edition of the magazine. Please read my poem, Heritage

I’m so excited about this.

Happy blogging!

Megha Sood

 

Poetry published in the Vita Brevis Magazine- Impressions

How do you feel when the poetry magazine which you have been in awe of since the day of their inception and have spent countless hours reading their poems and admiring the talent of the writers published on their site has agreed to publish your poem?

I fell elated and top of the world since the day I got the email from the editor, Brian confirming the acceptance of my poem.

Vite Brevis is inspired by the saying ““Ars longa, vita brevis (art is long, life is short). This line moved me the very first time I saw it and every time I read their poems.

Their aim is to publish work that shows a keen awareness of not only art’s beauty and longevity but life’s toils and finiteness.

Please read my poem  Impressions and leave your precious comments.

Happy blogging!

Megha Sood

 

Nothing

First published in Modern Literature, July 2018

“I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

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How the feeling of emptiness devours

and takes me in

like an empty nest

and a hole in the ground

an empty den of the fox

with just loneliness gazing around

an unclaimed body

lying in the morgue..sleeping

without the

rush to being claimed or otherwise

Oh! how the  emptiness seeps and seeks me

with the stories of yore

with phantom pain filling my pores

An old abandoned hut

covered with vines and creeps

in the middle of the farmland

waiting to be lived in

a beautiful nursery with

matching color crib and that mobile

tinkling to the sound of desertion

and those

patterned unused blankets

folded and tucked neatly

left in the pile

in the corner

to be donated

so it can be forgotten

Bearing a load of a heavy heart

a heart empty

scraped and scratched of any emotion

Uninhabitable

not good for any more use

No sun

No sunlight

and the shadows  are empty

with nobody behind

A close look at my palms and

those lines have left me.

Oh! how the feeling of emptiness

fills and devours

everything in me.

–Megha

Picture Credit: Self

1st place winner at “NAMI NJ Dara Axelrod Expressive Arts 2018 Mental Health Poetry Contest”

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Dear blogging family,

I’m feeling elated and top of my world to hear that my poem “My Victory Song” got the 1st place in the “NAMI NJ Dara Axelrod Expressive Arts 2018 Mental Health Poetry Contest” among the 10 shortlisted finalists. The award function will take place on June 09,2018.

I would really like to thank each and every one of you who voted and supported me. This was my first attempt in any poetry competition and I could not believe the results.

Thanks a lot for all your encouragement and support.

Happy blogging!!

Megha Sood

 

 

 

 

We are poets

“Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them.” 
― Friedrich Nietzsche
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We all are trying to touch the bottom of the madness
the absolute end
to visualize how
far we can stretch our insanity
and how much it can
take the pressure and survive
till it breaks down and
shatters into small bits of
craziness and false identity

We all are trying to get to this bottomless pit
scraping and digging our way down
building our own graves
like a scared mouse,
clutching its way down
blinding running away from the reality

We are all trying to
get to the end of this abyss
the pandemonium
to save our souls
living in the dreadful reality

We let our parched quill
scratch and pull at the scabs
to feel the essence of words
buried deep in our psyche

We let it soak in the crimson blood
of our proverbial existence
running deep in our fecund veins
mocking our mortality

We are poets,
We all are trying to
touch the bottom of the
madness,
one which gives
voice to our deep
soliloquy
We are poets,
an epitome of insanity.

Photo by Matthew LeJune on Unsplash

 

Fabric

“Some people weave burlap into the fabric of our lives and some weave gold thread. Both contribute to make the whole picture beautiful and unique.”
–Anonymous

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Between the threads of reality
and threads of our vivid dreams
we weave our fabric of life
embellish it with our achievements
flaunting around with pride
and we don’t want any stains on it
we want it pristine and pure
draped in the gossamer of our desires
we just want to live
one day more
But as the time flies
the fabric is tugged and pulled part
at the edges
and seams are coming out
no matter how much you save it
how much you avoid
there are people who will
weave love and passion on it
the silky smooth touch
a touch of the cashmere
mixed with works of filigree
which wraps our souls
and gives it meaning
But my love,
don’t you ever forget
there are some who
will leave an impression
resurrect and infuse your soul
when they embrace you with the
burlap of their life
a touch of their own.
–Megha
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
This post is in response to the daily prompt Slight

Comparison

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.”
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

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Let me tell you 

what you mean to me

you are that feeling of home

my tired feet feel

when they step inside the

cold stream

a wild brook

after walking a whole day

 
You are the soothing 

feel of the sun on

my face in

crisp winters

 
You are a waft of that 

fresh breeze

when  I open the 

window to spring mornings

 
You are that soothing smell

that petrichor

which rejuvenates me from within

 
You are the feel of dewdrops 

falling from the petals 

when I bow down to kiss the flowers

in my garden

 
You are that warm cozy feeling

I get sitting next to 

listening to the wood crackling,

near my fireplace

 
You lit up the sky 

for me like that 

lone star in the endless 

dark nights

 
You warm my soul as the 

first cry of a newborn

and you soothe my scars when 

your healing words fall on my ears

 
Your warmth is getting imbued 

in me slowly and surely

as the sun dips 

his toes in the ocean

 
Let me tell you in million ways

using a billion poetic metaphors

and similes

what you mean to me 

before I run out of words

and nature runs out of its beauty

to compare my love to thee

 --Megha
Photo by Morgan Sessions on Unsplash
 

Fleeting romance

“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”
― Oscar Wilde

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Oh! how fleeting it was
how softly it made me blush
left my heart
feeling so sanguine
a feathered touch
that soft subtle feeling
those fleeting glances and
catching them through
the corner of the eyes
I’m trying to hide that feeling
so fervently
where it breaks all the barriers
and gushes out of my heart
ready to conquer the world
and paint this sky red
Oh! my fleeting romance
it came and went
tiptoeing in the corners of my soul
leaving an indelible mark
leaving ripples in my soul
etching your essence
in the deep corners of my self
a soft
too touch
too fleeting
to be felt.
This post is in response to the daily prompt Disrupt

 

My Salvation

This poem is in continuation of my micro poetry. Read Salvation.

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As I dance till my feet bleed
the sweat pour out of my body
as tears of my soul
I dance till I drop dead

As I sing from my heart
till my voice turns coarse and harsh
and every word, every syllable
touches and turn my
wounds to gold
so pure
I sing till I go mute

As I write my poetry
till my emotions bleed on the
papers
turns it into crimson red
cuts the soul of my readers
till they cry from every pore
I write till my fingers bleed no more

As I open my heart
for you
and let you in
and turn in upside down
shred into bits and pieces
to make a comfy pillow to
rest your head on it
and sleep on it
till all your nightmares
leave your soul like a smoke
I love you till it hurts no more

I Dance,
I Sing,
I Write,
I love like no one you ever know.

Megha

Serenade

Come, read my serenade for love…

serenade
The waxing and the waning
of my beautiful moon
spreading that
warm soothing beautiful
moonlight
which calms my devils
and heals my sores
from within
 

The ethereal
timeless beauty
you adorn
you keep changing
from the crescent
to the gibbous
keeps playing
with my heart
Oh! so chivalrous

You bring out desires
hidden in me
that ravenous appetite
deep seeded
for centuries

That flicker of the beauty
can heal a thousand blisters
I’m chasing you for centuries
named as a shapeshifter

A constant turmoil
of good and bad
within my soul
it’s a timeless fight
and now it’s taking a toll

You are up there in the heart of sky
shining in all your glory
the blood in my eyes
turns pale
in that sapphire light
shining in all that reverie

I wrap my pain and love
and wrote a beautiful serenade
dipped in my sinful blood
Alas, but all you could hear;
was the werewolf’s
howls in the night
too harsh and coarse
for anyone to bear.

–Megha

This post is in response to the daily prompt Song

 

Between

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Between the spaces of my heartbeats
I have knitted you a home
Come sit and feel cozy
nestled deep in the 
embrace of my 
soul
oozing with the overflowing love
that elixir
gushing out of 
every single pore of my self
dripping from the fingertips
Come, get washed up in the
fountain of sweet milk and honey
and rejuvenate 
deeply to the core,
Between the curve of my smile
I have knitted you a home
where you get imbued with the
warmth of my pure smile
and get soaked in the
beaming light of moonlight
which will drench your
soul in its reverie,
Between the 
spaces of my fingers
I have knitted you a home
a safe space
where you can 
lay languid
your soul intertwined with me
and seeking sustenance in each other
Those fingers wrapped around each other
weave an untold story
of passion and love in its entirety,
Between the pores of my body
I have knitted a home for you
where you can rest 
forever
with your marred and crestfallen soul
chasing that shiny mirage
you called life
and its sobriety,
Between the teardrop
falling off my face
I have knitted a home for you 
my love
a single drop of it
can resurrect your 
dreary soul
from the pain
which is tearing you apart
Sip and get intoxicated
living immortality
in the blissed-out soul
for eons to come.
 There is a place, a home 
in every pore of my being
Come, find your space, my love!
–Megha

Writing my micro poetry led to this complete poem. Read the micro poetry here.

Social Evils ( An Anthology)

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Hello, my blogging family,

As they say that “Pen is mightier than the sword” and being a poet/blogger we all know about the mesmerizing and strong impression our words can make on the lives of the people around us. On the eve of the World poetry day, I would like to wish all my bloggers/writers/poets of our wonderful WordPress community, more power to their thoughts and to their ever-magical quill.

Also, since I have been using poetry as a medium of my creative expression and thoughts I wanted to write a series of poems based on the few social evils of our society. Everyone I know must have experienced any of these while growing up, so I implore you to take your precious time to read about them and spread the awareness and any steps which we can do to stop them from festering in our society.

I have always been lucky in garnering the strength and support of my lovely blogging family for the previous anthologies I have published. I am wishing nothing less this time as well.

So for the next seven days, I’ll be publishing the poems from the anthology, one each day.

I’ll keep updating the links as I publish them.

1. Final Goodbye
2. Living nightmare
3. Brave
4. Broken
5. Lucky
6. Saintly
7. A cry for life

Happy blogging,

Megha Sood

Following are the links to the previous anthologies I have published

Seven Deadly sins

The Five Elements

Life Cycle of a poem

Image credit: Google.com

 

 

Lifecycle of a poem ( An anthology)

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.”
― Plato

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Hello, my blogging family,

This next series of poems I’m trying to write is an ode to poetry. I just wanted to write something around the lines of the life cycle of a poem..how a poem is conceived, the emotions, the fleeting thoughts, and the raging desires encompassing it, which brings out the poet in you and lets you spill your unencumbered thoughts on the papyrus.

This is a very simple series of four poems.

  1. What is a poem?
  2. Writer’s block
  3. My Muse
  4. Birth of a poem

As always, I’m not the best in writing poetry and yet again it is my humble attempt to pay ode to one of the beautiful emotions of the creative expression. I’ll be publishing each poem for the next four days. Please let me know your precious feedback in ways of likes, comments.

Happy blogging!

Megha Sood

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

P.S Below are the links to previous anthologies I have attempted. Take a look.

Seven Deadly Sins

Elements of Nature

 

Metamorphosis

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I call this the necessary
transformation
the inevitable change
the unavoidable incident
when I lay my heart bare
and you ripped it to shreds
I gathered the pieces
weaved a chrysalis out of it
and stayed inside
till I came out as a butterfly
from the battered
caterpillar
you left me to be
–Megha
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
This post is in response to the daily prompt Courage

 

Nostalgia

“how sad and bad and mad it was – but then, how it was sweet”
― Robert Browning
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Hidden between the pages
of my favorite book
or lying
as crushed petals
between those folds
scenting and filling up
my senses
will all the nostalgia
all the days and nights
there have been
and many more

Sleeping quietly as wrinkles
between the sheets
or engraved as
freckles on my skin
counting your memories
it touches and
leaves me
gasping for more

Every time I  inhale
that fresh whiff
of that cologne
rubbed off my skin
I’m being pulled
towards you
feeling alive evermore

Stretching and
arching my back
balancing my love on my
toes I gave
myself to you
once more

Floating away in your embrace
and counting the steps
locked in our gaze
the whole day comes
alive to me
when I take a whiff of
your old favorite tee.
Photo by Pascal Brokmeier on Unsplash

This post is in response to the daily prompt Mnemonic

 

Poetry feature on Whisper and the Roar Can you hold your ground?- Megha Sood

Poetry feature of Whisper and the roar. Go, check it out and let me know your precious feedback.

Whisper and the Roar

can you hold your ground

Have you ever been scarred by the moonlight?

Have you ever been scared to death,

by your big dreams?

Have you ever been scratched

and clawed by the angels?

Ripping your soul apart

as your hope dangles.

Have you ever get burned by the holy water,

left writhing and seething in pain?

Have you ever been torched by love,

left burning and crushing your hopes in vain?

Have you ever been blinded by a rainbow,

and left in the dark to wander?

Have you ever been duped by the trust

of the people you encountered?

Have you ever been succumbed

by the fragrance of the rose?

Does the proximity of  someone

scrapes you a little more?

Does the calmness in the moment

drives you crazy?

Does the feel of dewdrops

blisters your skin easy?

Have you ever felt jaded by

the squeals and laughs of everyone around?

Do you still…

View original post 128 more words

Poetry Feature on Whisper and the Roar Flinch- Megha Sood

Poetry Feature on Whisper and the Roar. Come read and let me know how you feel.

Whisper and the Roar

flinch

My soul flinches at the

very mention of your name

My fingers tremble in the night

as I recall the nightmare

recursively

like a bad movie

stuck on the reels

I want to scrape the

memory of yours

want to mask it with the

empty memories of

my life

the stench of your

sickening presence

has suffocated me

for so long

has left an abyss in my soul

even if I’m blinded

by the goodness

of the light surrounding me

you still can manage

to cast a shadow

and eclipse my heart

with all the pain

I have been

hiding all along

the shivering, trembling

and those seizures of

incessant pain

never seems to slow down

the gut-wrenching

feel of your touch

which scarred my soul

has left a deep impression

which I so want to ignore

Not a single day passes

when I wish your

existence should

be a…

View original post 156 more words

Brave- Megha Sood

Poetry feature on Whisper and the Roar. An ode to the strong brave women.

Whisper and the Roar

brave Megha sood

This post is an ode to the strong, fierce women who are survivors of acid
attacks. They go through immense physical and emotional pain but still
manage to rise from the ashes like a phoenix. I salute to all such woman, who
after going through a life-altering incident has never backed down, never given
up and showed the world the real strength of a fighting soul.

” He has changed my face, not my heart. He has burned my face ,
not my dreams”
–Laxmi Agarwal, acid attack survivor

She is fierce, brave
Braving the world
Facing the wrath
atoning sins of her ancestors
living a misogynistic truth
Pushing through the hurdles of the society
blending in the traditions
Standing tall in the face of the lies
She is ignoring all the scars
on her face, on her soul
every pore on her body emanates her glow
She is strong…

View original post 165 more words

Not a virgin

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Yes, I’m not a virgin anymore
when you cracked me open
like halves of walnuts
stuffed me with stories of yore

Yes, I’m not a virgin anymore
your curiosity
has pried open my frigid heart
left numb to the core
those fingers racing
up and down
searching for the scars
I adore

Yes I’m not a virgin anymore
you pierce and break open the doors
the memories start gushing in
there is no boundary
nothing defined
between the steps of heaven
and gore

Yes, I’m not a virgin anymore
your perfunctory acts of passion
leaves my sweltered soul
and a pallid body
become a symbol of our
concocted love

Yes I’m not a virgin anymore
the sacredness and innocence
dripping from my fingertip
are now tainted with
crimson tinged
lost love, I
so feverishly implore

Yes I’m not a virgin
anymore
you have a rent
on my body and
a  lien on my soul.

A soul frozen in time
I’m not a virgin anymore.

Photo by mahyar tehrani on Unsplash

Exciting Changes at the Go Dog Go Cafe!

..and Now officially I’m a barista at the GoDogGo cafe. Yay!!

Go Dog Go Café

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You may have noticed that we have been shining up the counters at the Go Dog Go Cafe, debuting some new menu items and adding some new writers to our Barista and Regular Contributor Rosters.  It is a new year at the Go Dog Go Cafe and we are really excited about the direction the Cafe is going.

We are committed to the Go Dog Go Cafe’s Mission of providing a warm, inviting and inspiring gathering space for building a healthy and supportive writing community.  We will be pairing excellent original writing from our Baristas, Regular Contributors and Guest Baristas with a mix of special features that explore the writing life, including our new feature Ask A Barista, where we will tackle your writing and blogging questions and give feedback on your works in progress.

We are happy to have founding Baristas Steve Fuller and Gina Gallyot back on a…

View original post 281 more words

After Hours: When I dance with her- Megha Sood

Another poetry feature on the GoDogGO cafe.. this poem is one of my personal favorites. As it combines my love of poetry and dance.
Go, check out the poem and the amazing Cafe for writers.

Go Dog Go Café

when I dance with her Megha

Locked gaze of hungry eyes
a fleeting touch of her body
Sudden twists and turns
Swirls, which are so naughty
Emotions flowing in locked steps
Driving both the souls in unison
Tapping feet makes the melody
When I’m with her
Music stirs our souls
Beats makes the heart move
Clapping to the ever-changing melody
Body does the groove
That syncopated feeling
when the world is moving in unison
Nothing compares to that ecstasy
When I am with her
The bare touch of her fingertips
electrifies me
Gliding and flowing of her body
Stirs the tides inside me
You can feel the passion
You can taste the love in the air
Passion has a new meaning
When I dance with her.
Picture credit : Google.com


I’m an avid reader, loves to sing, an ardent lover of poetry and sometimes can scribble few lines too. Loves to dance in the rain, have…

View original post 87 more words

Musical box

“If one day I am given a moment in solitude with you.
I will trample the two worlds underfoot and dance forever.”
–Rumi

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Moments of solitude
Not a drop of conversation
my heart speaking to yours
it doesn’t need any introduction
If only I could steal the moment
from the past
savor it and keep in my musical box
and play it again and again

when my heart fancies
you will always be with me
you will never leave
dance of the emotions
and locking of our gaze
one print of footsteps on the ground
time could never erase
If only I could steal the moment
from the past
savor it and keep in my musical box
and play it again and again

Watching the crescent moon
and the beauty it spreads
the melody of the crickets
hiding in the bushes somewhere
the only wish in our hearts
for that night to be never erased
If only I could steal the moment
from the past
savor it and keep in my musical box
and play it again and again

Intoxicated by your voice
and drunk on our dreams
the moment seems so blur
but the future looks so serene
longing for the unison
with our fingers entwined
If only I could steal the moment
from the past
savor it and keep in my musical box
and play it again and again.

I would play that music on
my musical box again and again.

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

Doldrums

How do you feel when the eternal wait for someone though, ends with their physical presence. But you have never felt so alone, aloof and secluded and wrapped in your thoughts, even if they are back with you. The paradox in the life continues to exist.

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You are food for my soul
like honey for the bees
I’m stuck here on the shore
you are lost in the sea

Spending my endless days
in the doldrums
thinking about you
always daydreaming

I’m stuck here on the shore
you are lost in the sea

 Lost the count
of the breath;
miles and miles
my wishes are stretched
before they get tired
and go to sleep

I’m stuck here on the shore
you are lost in the sea

Wishing you to be breathing
my air, next to me
bits of sand on your body
glistening;
always gives you
an everlasting sheen

I’m stuck here on the shore
you are lost in the sea

A wishful thinker
a daydreamer, they say
in the doldrums
waiting for thee;
honey, honey
you are food for the bees.

I’m stuck here on the shore
you are lost in the sea

My heart thumping
puts the deafening noise 
of the crashing waves
to shame;
I long to hear your voice
to calm down the devils in me

I’m stuck here on the shore
you are lost in the sea

My heart moored
to your soul
just waiting to be
tugged along with you
oh! this wait seems
to be everlasting

I’m stuck here on the shore
you are lost in the sea

Days rolled into nights
and the chills in the winds
sends the shiver down my spine;
I stand here on the edge
waiting for your silhouette
to be defined;
This strange dark in the
night makes patterns
so eerie

I’m stuck here on the shore
you are lost in the sea

An epiphany of the wonderful sorts
here I beget your
presence
and find you
all lost and awry

You worldly presence
counts for nothing
to me
Honey, honey
You are not next to me

I’m stuck here on the shore
you are lost to the sea.

Photo by Shifaaz shamoon on Unsplash

This post is in response to the daily prompt Forlorn

 

Poetry feature on Duane Poetree

My poem got featured on the Duane Poetree. It’s website which features today’s poet and their creativity. Go check it out!!.

Megha's World

“red the color of the rose
red the color of your lips
red the color of your tongue….
red the color of your heart……
red the color of your passion…..”
― Marina G. Roussou

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As you drip through my fingers
like a naked truth
and I hide you,
behind all the shameful veils
like a proverbial truth 
you exist
and flows in my veins;
you carry the life inside
while the giants boasts of mortality;
you are a sign of courage in the war
adorning a victory scar
turning into a grandiose reality;
A sign of new beginnings
for a blushing bride
a sign of novelty;
You give the reason 
for celebrations
with the harvest reaped 
so grandly;
you are always 
deemed
a sign of prosperity;
you are a sign of pubescence
with the nod 
opens up the door,
to the new realms
for the little girl
turning into a woman
oh! so gently;
defines the…

View original post 59 more words

Sunset

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When the gold melts into the sea
and flares up
every burning desire in you and me
when the sun dips the toes into
the heart of the ocean
and I seep slowly into
your soul, my love
Where the darkness engulfs 
and wraps us in the eternal love
and nothing can keep us apart
we are entwined 
with each other
when the gold churned in the sky
colors our soul
in shades of crimson
and we drench 
into the radiance of that pure bliss
of the eternal love
we see the warm hues all around us
simmering us to the core
with the one we love
the rays of the sunshine 
paints us forever and more
and creates a  scene 
love never forgets
Come, meet me darling
when the sun sets.
Photo by Rachel Cook on Unsplash
This post is in response to the daily prompt Winsome

Poetry feature on Visual Verse

I’m so elated and excited to tell you that one of my poems got published in the Visual Verse. for January 2018. Visual Verse is a collaboration. An anthology of art, poetry, short fiction, and non-fiction. Go, check it out and let me know your precious feedback. Here is the link to my poem “Mirage”.

Thanks a million to my blogging community for inspiring me every single day!!

Happy Blogging!!

Megha Sood

 

Guest Barista Megha Sood: Saintly

Third time is a charm, they say. Got my third poem published on the literary collective GoDogGocafe.

Check it out and shower your love on it!

Go Dog Go Café

Megha 3

Failed virtues of the people today
nothing can be fixed
going to church every day
You’re Catholic
and I’m pious
and we still have our fingers
dipped in the blood
of our desires
What makes you more saintly than me I ask
Oh! I pray and confess twice in the last pass
I repent my sins
and donate to charity
to evade taxes
cause I can’t stand in the stinky lines
of the soup kitchen
to feel those empty glances
I’m looking at the God
and still stripping you with my eyes
they say I’m a man of cloth
who has burned every desire
Lighting up candles
kneeling to make my wishes come true
I can kill a person’s desire to live
but I can make a saint out of you.
Reading the holy scriptures
and accepting the truth in the gospel
we are camouflaging so beautifully
hiding the devil…

View original post 136 more words

Old shoes

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.
—From an Irish headstone”

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Lying on the top shelf
covered with layers of time
still, has their character
carrying their worries
from moments of time

They smiled when he
slipped into them
wilted when they left
aged with the feet
for all the road traveled
more or less

Marked in their sole
they store their own maps
leather has been worn
thread has been frayed
seams showing  at the gaps

They wait eternally like
that unwanted kid in the
foster home
never to be picked out again

oh! those old shoes
of my father
those who once shined;
the feet crossed
the dimensions
leaving those wretched shoes behind.

Photo by Christian Roßwag on Unsplash

Seven Deadly sins( An anthology of poems)

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Hello, my blogging family,

Recently I started working on my anthology of poems about the seven deadly sins. However, it started with me writing a poem about jealousy and while I was nearing the end of it, it just crossed my mind to do the whole series about the seven deadly sins. I’ve never worked on an anthology before and this is my first humble attempt, so I’m really apprehensive about it. As always, I expect the support and constructive feedback from my community, which makes me a better writer by each passing day.

I’m planning to publish a poem daily for the next seven days.Hoping, I would be able to live up to the expectation of my readers.

As I keep publishing, I’ll keep updating the links to the posts below.

1. Jealousy(Envy)
2. Gluttony (Gula)
3. Lust (Luxuria)
4. Greed (Avaritia)
5. Sloth (Acedia)
6. Wrath (Ira)
7. Pride ( Hubris)

Happy blogging!
Megha

Photo by Hieronymus_Bosch on Wikipedia.org

P.S Below are the links to previous anthologies I have attempted. Take a look.

Elements of Nature

Lifecycle of a poem

Guest Barista Megha Sood: Sparkle

Hey my blogging family,

I’m in seventh heaven today as one of my poems again got published on the literary collective GoDogGo cafe. Go check it out.
Love,
Megha

Go Dog Go Café

Megha 2

The sparkle in her eyes
as she sees him
the peaceful glean in her eyes
as he steps back in the household
It brings happiness
etched in her wrinkles
happiness radiating
from her crow’s-feet
A new wave of life and energy
flows through her old veins
the flash of happiness
through her cracked lips
the glow on her face
can put the sun to shame

The eternal wait and
constant worrying has
finally, come to an end
the moment he walks in
Her whole world is there
right at the moment
He is her epicenter again.

Her old bones have been
re-energized with the flow of
her love and passion
her instincts have been resurrected
from the deep slumber, they were in.
she again becomes
the epitome of care
making her mission
to shower her love
and gently wash away all his pain
Well, nothing can compare
the ecstasy of…

View original post 127 more words

Safe

We, humans, have the proclivity to shut down emotionally in a state of emotional crisis.We all feel that we are safeguarding ourselves from all the pain and angst by keeping the help at bay and downplaying the hurt we are going through. It takes a lot of courage to open to someone and to share your deep emotional thoughts with people around us. We all feel very vulnerable by doing so, but are we really keeping us safe this way?

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Is loneliness your companion

which makes you feel complete

Is tiredness your friend

ache and pains gives you hand

Is the emptiness in your life

makes you fill the void

with all the empty memories

Are you safeguarding all your truth

so you don't need a friend

Is the bitterness in your voice

keep the enemies at bay

Is the cowardness in your way of life

keep the harm away

Is the sourness in the relationships

armor your heart and keeps it safe

Is the ugliness in the ways of life

keeps the lovers at arms' length

Is the foulness in your voice

shuts down the path to your soul

keeps you away from the ghouls

Has the proclivity towards broken faith

keeps you from looking straight into his eyes

stops from your faith being restored

Are your wings broken

so you can't fly to strange new lands

Have you made yourself tone-deaf

so you can't be swayed by the

music of your land

How are you keeping yourself safe these days?

 

Photo by Bogdan Dada on Unsplash

This post is in response to the daily prompt Proclivity

Rise

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Rise up to the light
the light you deserve
don’t give up
on your
perfect imperfections

Your scars, flaws, weakness
are the marks of beauty
in your life
unique as a snowflake
a beauty undefined

There is no replacement
don’t you dare surrender
your broken lines on your face
is the map to the lost soul
to the wandering heart
lost in the maze

Don’t you dare surrender
your idiosyncrasies
your mistakes
makes you human
You and I
We are alive,
We are alive

Don’t leave the love behind
cause I could never
replace your
perfect imperfections.

Photo by Genessa Panainte on Unsplash

This post is in response to the daily prompt
Calling

Masks

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“We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be.”
― Patrick Rothfuss

Are we all wearing masks these days? Are we all hiding our true identities from each other? I feel that people have stopped sharing their true emotions, stopped confiding in friends and people around them.  We only share secret when we attach a nondisclosure agreement in the relationship.

That’s’ not an honest sharing.People have stopped telling each other the deep dark secrets as they don’t trust anyone, anymore.

Why?

Because everyone is hiding their true identity from each other so everyone is so guarded against each other that they feel very scared and threatened if anyone tries to enter their private and sacred place.The sacred place of their thought and real emotions.They use it as a respite from the truth.

That’s’ the reason the relationships are so fragile and shallow these days. They don’t have the deepness of trust built in them.

We all want to hide behind a mask.The masks can either protect you or can act as a coping mechanism in the superfluous society where every weakness today is mocked upon.Where every honest and naive heart seems as the most fragile and vulnerable one. Where evil is just lurking around the corner to devour your honest intention and make you feel regret about sharing the true self at the first place.

You use your mask as a shield, am armor, against all the hatred in the world.
and only reveals your true self to the closest person you have in your life. Some might have one, some unfortunate people don’t have that privilege and they finally succumb to their feelings.We have hotlines to deal with people suffering from depressions and having suicidal thoughts but the same person is being totally shunned in his own living space.

We proud ourselves to be called as a social animal. But deep inside how social are we.?

Are we social to people who voice out their problems and strong opinions in the public? Are we tolerant or civil to the opinion when it’s on the other end of the spectrum?

No, Absolutely not.

They say ” Internet is the perfect hiding place, as it doesn’t reveal you’re true identity”.

The internet is your true mask.

I guess that’s the reason where a person is more comfortable to voice their opinion in an online forum rather than taking a stronger stand in the town hall.

We all wear masks and everyone has their own reason.

Are you wearing one today or are you the reason for someone wearing their own?

Photo by Finan Akbar on Unsplash

Chiseled

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Is your soul perfectly round,

chiseled and shaped to perfection?

Are you not rough around the edges anymore,

and all your flaws have been smoothed?

 
Did they cover and caulk all the holes in it?

Sanded and brushed

so that no sin can seep in

and polished you with love

masking all the defects.

 
Have they taped all the corners

so that no vice can stick out?

No mistake or no fault of yours

can ever come out.

 
Does all this hypocrisy

give you the everlasting sheen?

even if the layers inside you

are peeling within.

 
Does all this work

and handicraft

makes you emotion-resistant?

Are you are unswayed by the

fight underneath?

 
Air dried by years of your existence

Moulded by your coats of experience

Did they glue up and saw all the intricacies? 

Primed you with love and its intimacy. 


Are you really sure

that now you are the epitome

of divinity?


Photo by Edgar Perez on Unsplash


This post is in response to the daily prompt  Mallet

Why do you pray?

 “In prayer, it is better to have a heart without words than words without a heart. ”
― John Bunyan

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Was is the emptiness in your heart

that made you pray tonight

Was is it the loneliness 

which made you look up

in his eyes

Were you looking for ways 

to absolve your sins

Was it the dizziness from all the 

trials and tribulations in your chaotic life

which swerved your way towards him

Was it the weakness in your heart

which made you kneel

Was it the walled emotions

you wanted to break in

Was it the feeling of falling 

in your abyss of hatred and anger

Was is the bitterness in your heart

which wanted to be spilled out

Was it the world of yours

which was tumbling down

all your dreams and hopes

falling brick  by brick

Was it the sharp stabbing pain

in your soul, you wanted to stop

Was is the will to be liberated 

to the One, you have been waiting

Was it the feeling of

pumping this hamster wheel

or you just wanted throw a wrench

in this wheel

What made you pray?

What made you kneel?

Photo by Chris Ensey on Unsplash

Mushroom

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Aww! the tiny little feet
stomping up and down
they run through the forest
as if they own this part of town
 
He carries a lanky stick in his hand
and beats the bushes aloud
climb and jumps anywhere
and waves his leafy flag around
 
Roaring and beating the bush
to make way for thee
He slides on the tiny hills
looking for the toadstool
he desperately needs to see
 
He splashes and jumps in the puddles
to scare the birds away
but for the love of his life
he really can’t figure
why the mushrooms are built that way?
 
This post is in response for the daily prompt  Mushroom
 
Photo by Benjamin Balázs on Unsplash

 

Reflection

How many times have you been mistaken for someone else in a crowd or when you are missing someone so dearly that you are constantly looking for bits of him in other people.I guess ” The out of sight, out of mind” analogy doesn’t work for the people who are longing for their lost ones.Love always leaves a deep impression on your soul, which is hard to forget. Love reflects in mysterious ways.

“One of the saddest things in life, is the things one remembers.”
― Agatha Christie

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I see your reflection everywhere I go

I see it on the friendly face I know

in the warmth of the hug

in the kiss on the forehead

it makes me smile

it makes me forget

the grinding pain in my heart

 
To lose you and still living in your shadows

I just can't let you go

can't fear the pain

of being alone anymore

 
Sometimes a loud laughter

across room startles me

Makes my eyes wander in grief

You are within me but not with me

 
The thought of losing you

makes me somber

wish I could scrape the 

edges of my heart

and make it  more rounder

 
So the feeling hurt and pinches less

and I can stop being breathless

Oh! the path I have jumped and skipped 

to see a fleeting glance of you

the scorching pain in my heart

of living without you

 
I look for you everywhere

You reflect in people everywhere

It's hard for me to live this way

when love reflects in mysterious ways.
 Photo by Denys Argyriou on Unsplash

 

Riff

“If music be the food of love, play on”

― William Shakespeare

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He played a riff on my soul
where all emotions danced to his tunes
and my heart swayed to his strings
He looked me in my eyes
and the world stopped turning
He played the chords and
strung my heart along
my heart skipped a beat
and danced to his gaze
 
He played a riff on my soul
his voice chased
all the demons in me
and cleansed me again
to become pure
 
He played a riff on my soul
as his fingers glide on the guitar
it lit my emotions on fire
as he playing on my soul
and arousing all my desires
 
He played a riff on my soul
We swayed along and
our hearts strung together
not the world, not the melody matters
when your mind enters the trance
I still to this day remembers
when he played a riff on my soul.
 
This post is in response to the daily prompt  Riff

Black Rainbow

“Sadness is monochrome.”

                        –Megha

Depression is real.It’s not just a fleeting thought; it’s a disease. No amount of distraction around you can cure your sadness.No amount of beauty around you can make your heart happy. Do not treat depression as a state of mind which will just go away if you ignore it longer. Get help!!

The following free verse reflects the same feeling.

christian-sterk-218727

Looking at the sky

After it has been washed with rain and thunder

Waiting for the nature to take out its palette

Strokes of beauty dipped in endless colors

Waiting for the divine beauty to appear in front of me

Black clouds to be lifted

And wash away all the slithering mud

Dipped and soaked again in the morning dew drops

I waited so long so long

To see a black rainbow.

The picture I used in this post has been clicked by Christian Sterk on Unsplash

This post is in response to the daily prompt Black

Are you writing from heart?

“A drop of ink may make a million think.”
― George Gordon Byron

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How do you know what you are writing is coming from your heart?

How do you know what you are writing will resonate with the readers and they will be able to understand the true meaning hidden behind the words.

Well, I guess that’s a gamble and no writer or author knows for sure that what he is writing is going to sit well, Hell! even being appreciated by their audience.

Sometimes you don’t write to please the reader. Sometimes you just write to pour the emotions out on a paper, which has been eating you from inside, and you just want to put a stop to it.

You pour your heart out, your anger, frustration or anxiety on the paper when you feel you just can’t keep it bottled up inside you anymore.

Writing is a refuge and its an antidote for authors, writers, poets etc…who can’t find solace in anything around them in the world. No amount of luxury or happiness can fill the void they are feeling inside. Their feeling to express their emotions is insurmountable.

They want to fill the void with words, words heal them and act a tourniquet for all the invisible wounds, which have been scraped by the society by so-called near and dear ones.

Writing is cathartic. It relieves you of all the pain, the pain which reflects in your eyes but your lips are sealed tightly shut when you can not utter a single word of relief.

Sometimes emotions are too stronger to feel, so you jot them down on a piece of paper. You don’t want the moment to lose but you want to get sealed in that moment forever. Preserve it like a rose in the between the pages of your book.

So if ever you want to re-live that moment you just have to go through the words and whole scenario comes alive right in front of your eyes.

Writing is timeless and it’s not governed by the era, time, place you are living in. You can build a whole mythical world around you with magical creatures in it and can be a part of it too.Writing is magic.

Words have the power to heal people..it’s the panacea we all have been waiting for all our lives. Going through the letters sent by our loved ones cannot surpass the feeling of any drug or medicine.

For me, words make me powerful. It brings me alive. Teeming with emotions.Gives me a sense of satisfaction to be myself. Once I start penning down my thoughts, no power in the world can stop me.

With writing, you are creator and part of your creation at the same time.

–Megha

What do you call a home?

“If light is in your heart
You will find your way home.”
― Jalaluddin Rumi

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What do you call a home?
Where you lose yourself
your soul rests in peace or is a place of refuge
from the anger, hurt, pain and anxiety
and all things evil

What do you call a home?
where you are alone with your emotions
naked .. stripped of all the lies
where there is no rush, no chaos

What do you call a home?
Where every piece of the puzzle just falls right into its place
after being lost in cheap delirium
and losing you the identity
around  the social awkwardness
where you come finally
to strip off yourself
of all the fake identities
beautifully broken down

What do you call a home?
There is no finish line to cross
you are always a winner
just for reaching home
Where you sins finally comes to rest
and soul stop resisting all the happiness
and give in to the peace and calmness of the moment

What do you call a home?
where you can wrap yourself
around with your whimsical illusions
and sleep peacefully
to let the dreams conceive again.

Won’t you take me home?

Silence- A beautiful conversation

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Silences between the conversation

the most beautiful feeling

The pause where the world stops

but the feeling flows eternally

 
Silence of the heart

The rhythm to which the heart beats 

untuned with the chaos of the world

paired only with him

 
Raindrops are mute too

but touches you whole 

as they make a trail on your skin

washing the hurt away and 

cleansing your soul

 
Silence in the beautiful moonlight

flaming desires in the silent hearts

Those unspoken vows 

keeps you entangled from the start

 
Silence of the deep river

in the flapping wings of the butterfly

silence in the middle of the night

in the deepest of the woods

where you soul commune with the god

 
Silence, it has its own language

The most beautiful conversation

It will sway your heart

Only if you listen to it.

 
Photo by Marco De Waal on Unsplash

This post is in response to the daily prompt Silent

Who is an artist?

“An artist should create beautiful things, but should put nothing of his own life into them.”

― Oscar Wilde

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He is an imposter, a fake.
Who hides his true identity
but reflects the feelings and emotions of the person
he is portraying in the purest form.
Someone who takes the form of a person,
thoughts, ideas, feeling etc.,
embodies them in the deepest possible way
So that, it is not possible for you
to separate the art from the artist
the emotions from the narration.

An artist is the closest and truest analogy of water
which doesn’t have its own shape, odor or taste
but seemingly takes the form of the container it is contained in.

An artist is like a roller coaster
who gives you a breathtaking ride of emotions
Jolting and scaring you to bits
giving you goosebumps
while giving you the ride of your life.

An artist is master storyteller, a pied piper
who takes you through the alleys of tales and fancies
takes you down the memory lane
fills your heart with hopes and desires
shows you the real meaning of life
and reflects your soul, while being at a distance from you.

An artist is that drug, that forsaken pill
who fills you with ecstasy
gives you a new high
takes you into a new realm of feelings
without altering your presence.

An artist is a dream weaver, stargazer
Who helps you weave new dreams and hopes in your mundane life
Shows you the many parallel dimensions of your life
Gives you the hope
to still keep dreaming in your life.

He is a rainbow of emotions.

A reflection of the moment

Closer to your soul than you think

He makes you a dreamer.”

                                                                                      –Megha

 

Photo by David Preston on Unsplash

 

Tattoo

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Those beautiful lines etched on your skin
The art speaking for itself
Emotions oozing out from each
Drop of Ink
And pain screaming from each twist and turn
Every stroke of the pen defines you
Every twist of the nip
Glorifies you
Your beauty needs no jewels
You are adorned by them
Playing shamelessly
Around your curves
Bumping and gliding around
the turns
It etched the beauty you were hiding deep within
It etches the scars you were
carrying all in
Every mark whisper sweet nothings in your ear
Wish I could be part of that intimate conversation
Wish I could be close as they are
Wish I could be that tattoo on your heart.

Photo by Scott Goodwill on Unsplash

This post has been in response to the daily prompt Trademark

Who is a mother?

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A friendly gentle face

Laced with kindness and love

showing and pouring her heart out to you

Makes you feel be loved

 
A stern and a strict teacher

who dispenses life lessons 

will give you the toughest obstacles

but will hold you when you fall


Though she may have a sleek body frame

but as athletic as anyone can be

Can do a thousand task

In a blink of an eye, you shall see


She will stand by you through thick and thin

Never leaves you alone

Wipe your tears and lifts you up

No matter how far you have come along

 
She is the first welcome smile 

And the first in so many ways

A million will come and go

But she will always be there
This post is in response to the daily word challenge  Athletic

 

Photo by Lewis Roberts on Unsplash

The circle

From the stars we came, and to the stars we return.
― Jack Campbell, Relentless

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Yes this could be the truth
The moment you are waiting for
The quest for life
The unveiling we all been waiting for

You wait for this to happen
To happen all your life
Heart has been pounding
Ears listening to the drumroll

Eyes peeling out to see the unbelievable
Hands sweating out to see the unspeakable
Yet deep down inside you know
You know it all
This is the moment from where
Everything begins to fall

Fall in the web of deceit and unhappiness
Weaving the web of lies and callousness
You keep breathing with a facade on
Waiting for the day when everything will be gone
The day comes and you become a stardust
Floating in this endless universe
Forever to be gone

You are conceived again as a hope
Holding the end of the rope
You witness the event again
With all the anxiety and the happiness mixed in between

This is how the life and death interweaves.
That’s how the circle completes.

Photo by Alex Hockett on Unsplash 

       This post is in response to the daily prompt challenge word Circle

How to be a child again?

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Clear your heart of all the damning thoughts

Wipe your mind of all the sad memories;

Clean up your life all of the bad experience;

Cleanse your soul with the purity of love;

Undo all the bad deeds done all these years;

Unlive the horrible experiences of life;

Un-learn the sad truths of the world;

Un-hear the bad words uttered by the sullen mouths;

Then you will be clean and pure as a child, my love.

 

Photo by Danielle MacInnes on Unsplash

Presence

Have you ever felt so connected to a person that the mere presence of him in a room will fill you with passion?

Even though he is not near you, he can immerse you in his soulful presence. Your heart starts beating to his rhythm and your eyes are desperately waiting for the glance where you connect. The following post encompasses that feeling. Read the following post and let me know how you feel about it.

alejandra-quiroz-658

Dance of the emotions

Catching of the gaze

Passing glimpse of the face

Fleeting touch of your hands

Feeling the untouched

Living the love

Absorbing your presence

and drowning in your essence

Standing in the crowd

Only felt by the one

Making the eye contact

and feeling the unspoken words

Standing here in a crowded room

Felt so alone with you.

The picture used in this post has been taken by Alejandra Quiroz

Elements

First Published in the Writer’s cafe Magazine Issue 13 -“Elements”

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My soul without the love

an empty poem

Stripped of its beauty

with metaphors

but nothing to compare with.

 

My mind

with it’s tangled thoughts

ricochet between the doubts and the certainty

almost sure of the day

when nothing will begin and everything will end

a journey towards Oblivion.

 

My skin

devoid of the healing touch and showered with the wet empty kisses

you plant every day on my cheeks

it bears marks of time

sensitive to even the pain

when the time shrugs its shoulder

and the moment end

and my skin still waiting

for that healing touch

fervently to suppress that pain.

 

My love

a dream too real

conjured out of thin air

like the magic potion

will heal everything

and that magic elixir

will resurrect me from my darkness

of bone and Ash

my love enough to be real

to be felt with my fingertips

and too surreal

so I can feel the pain

when it leaves my body

gently as it glides

to live in the dimension

separate than mine.

 

My truth

a reality too hard to gulp down

your empty throat

when the reality cuts the dreams

with its serrated ends

and stripped off all its frivolity

it stands here naked

stripped

staring and gazing at you

with its bloodshot eyes

when you feel shameful

to hold it’s gaze.

 

So when the pain sits deep inside my

barren womb

like the dead lilies

knotted and tangled together

like the pain of the stillborn

where time eats time

you try to define

my mind,

my soul,

my skin,

my love,

my truth,

/my elements/

pulling and molding it together

to give it a shape and a form

and you realize

how wrong you were all along.

–Megha

Photo by Shifaaz shamoon on Unsplash

Ossuary- Sabrina Escorcio

Come read the works of a talented writer at Whisper and the Roar.

Whisper and the Roar

Ossuary

She attempts to stand
upon uneven ground
atop a broken earth divide,
awkwardly balancing
between woman and child

Fissures of inheritance
the infectious bane
of her own existence,
formed beneath calloused soles
of sister, mother, grandmother

Charms contained within
the broken locket placed
delicate around her neck;
sacred curse of ancestry adorned,
yet blessed by envious men

Gaping hole expectations
inscribed in faint palm lines
anticipate a descent from innocence,
as brute, unforgiving hands voyage
forging reckless trespass

They emerge in procession
seeking temporary resolve
within the brimstone depths of
her fractured earth pedestal; built
by brother, father, grandfather

Instinctively she continues
heart blind and bound
planting seeds of trust, inside
the empty moral vessel
of a nutrient void society

Bedded upon a shroud
of ivory bridal linens,
virgin hope buried in white
between quivering legs; her
ever consuming crimson tide
an ossuary proclaimed by men


Sabrina Escorcio was born…

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Why I need your love?

lisa-van-dam-78364-unsplash.jpg

Don’t ask me to explain why I need your love,
a parched soul,
in the search of that oasis
even the slightest glance of you
quenches my heart

Don’t ask me to explain why I need your love,
a wild deer,
galloping in the thicket of the forest
seeking fervently
for that musk
seeded within his soul
a lovers’ nest

Don’t ask me to explain why I need your love,
a river,
gushing and roaring
down the valleys
imbued with the thirst
of merging in the ocean
from where it emerges
a place for shedding off the burden and rest

Don’t ask me to explain why I need your love
a parched and hungry quill,
ready to spread  on that yellow papyrus
wanting to create that visceral image
of that unspoken desires
before it strangles itself
and die an untimely death

Don’t ask me to explain why I need your love,
a flower,
wallowing in the return of her bee
ready to surrender her fragrance
her nectar
to be morphed into the
eternal elixir
to be carried too far away lands
to land in the combs of her lover’s nest

Don’t ask me to explain why I need your love
My heart needs,
my soul does.

Megha

Photo by Lisa van Dam on Unsplash

Poetry Published in Life in 10 minutes-“Acceptance”

So happy and delighted to see my poem “Acceptance” in the online magazine ” Life in 10 minutes”.Life in 10 minutes is an initiative started by Valley Haggard, a recipient of 2014 Theresa Pollak Prize and a 2015 Style Weekly Women in the Arts Award.

Life in 10 minutes is a challenge to express your emotions within 10 minutes . Please visit the site to know about this amazing project and read my poem here.

Happy blogging!

Megha Sood