Immigrant

First Published in the Madness Muse Press I'm an immigrant a person whose roots are dangling between continents and spanning cultures trying to get the footing to maintain the balance dangling between the void and the fullness My mouth speaks two language where my heart bears one I'm training my tongue to get used to the new taste … Continue reading Immigrant

To begin again….

Megha's World

To begin again,

something must end

a vicious life circle

and that is the trend;

you are conceived as  a hope

floating  as a stardust

in the skies

you take form as a hope

and the quest for the

life begins;

planning your precarious life

tiptoeing the mistakes and

holding onto your pride

the journey begins;

falling in the web of deceit 

and unhappiness

rummaging the soul

for the eternal salvation

the fallacy remains;

clutching your dreams

with those bony fingers and the

pallid face

the hope remains;

Nearing the end of the journey

you let go of all the pretense

floating towards the final

deliverance

cause to begin again

something must end.

This poem is part of the collaborative poem started by Grabbety covens. Read the final piece here.

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Three poems published in the Blognostics -“Audacity”, “Orphan” and “Acceptance is a colorless offering”

Delighted to know that three of my dearest poems found their home in the warm space of the Blognostice Poetry Journal. Really thankful to the editor Jessica Grant for giving me the opportunity and supporting my work. Blognostics is an independent literary organization committed to poetry, creative writing, and art. They are dedicated to bringing … Continue reading Three poems published in the Blognostics -“Audacity”, “Orphan” and “Acceptance is a colorless offering”

Little does she know

Megha's World

cristian-newman-141895
Little does she knowIt will end before it will start;Little does she knowIt will leave cracks in her heart;Little does she knowThe traditions always die down slowly;Little does she knowit's still a knot, even it is holy;Little does she knowWounds are always scraped more;Little does she knowevery person is nothing but a voyeur;Little does she knowthis  game always ends in deadlock;Little does she knowshe is not part of the flock;
Little does she knowThere is nowhere to hide forever;Little does she knowher pain has surrounded her;Little does she knowShe stopped feeling somehow;Little does she knowThe smiles are all phony;Little does she knowYou always end up lonely. Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

This post is in response to the daily prompt Conversant

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