Rustic

It all seemed new to me somehow, again



The never ending road, rough textures of an autumn leaf I held close, shades of the orange sky with the tint of pink
What a vivid image it was, I saw her nervously sitting there
On a concrete walkway, beside those red-yellow leaves
I sat with the little girl, staring down at her bare feet
Silence was all I heard, yet the breeze was whispering
I stared at a beautiful black fence covered with the green vines, opposite to me, ten feet 6 inches high



The feeling to be untold, was it all broken was it strong, a question in my head
Offering my leaf to the little girl, I broke her trance, intriguing all it was as she delicately cradles
As if the leaf had all her strength left, asking her silently, I observed her actions carefully
Clenching the corner of it with her other hand, she saw me with her big brown eyes
Giving the cracked leaf back, she passed a smile, yet how sad it was
What a precept, all that connected, made sense
If tore into pieces, the same it was
the colours, the textures, the volumes and what not
Lost one part, but still had too many to go on, some tears, but still too many moments to smile on



Again, it all seemed new to me.

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Dreams

Crawling back to past, letting lose my soul, I sit by the window and drink the voyage

Voyage of a simple story, tragic surpasses, rough traces, can’t put my finger on one, what to see, little bit of colors, so messed up
Like a bus, venturing through the city, lots of stories passing by, but not to tell out loud
So many ifs in mind, so much reality to seek, I hold my breath and take a sip from my favourite mug
Wrongdoings, disastrous times, the patience unbearable, losing one’s individuality, the road seems so long, why want it short

What to see, what to hear, is it worthy?

I want to live it all, how might uncanny it seems
To sit with a person who ain’t good with friends, or who’s failing but trying so hard
I want to console a person whose losing hope, whose path seams so vague, with broken dreams
Venturing through the dusky streets, where even leaves losing their breaths
I want to look into the old souls, how they’re feeling the loudness
Harsh realities, what are they laughing for
Standing on the cliff, what am I waiting for

Reluctant eyes, trembling fingers, yet volcanic insides, why the concrete barriers world constructed around
I want to sit by a group and share a good laugh, go to places, without feeling unsafe
The routine is so simple, why they get so deep
I want to smell the drops of petrichor like a dream living in the reality

Feeling extra sweetness in my mouth, I look into my mug for few last drops of the liquid
Regaining my senses, a calm far voice, I glance for one last second, right before my eyes


One golden spark, the last I see, shattering of glass, the last I hear

yellowwinder.blogspot.com

Eye of an Artist

Something about memory pulls off vintage,

Why something about breaking down
urges monochrome,
Delightful gets all the credits of warmth,
While excitement embellishes the atmosphere,
What if an excuse had a colour, I wonder
How bizarre it might be
If mock be the vibe, comfort seemed to be surreal


What if wrecking,
Rather dropping the tones, ignite the whole world
The splash of colours, the widen rays of hope
Rather than ending, become the starting
Building up the walls, breaking them down
Lowing the volume, turning the music up
Wearing warm hoodies, running fingers through hair


Picking up the brush, emotion of ecstasy
Palette of colours, mixing the tranquility
Pouring the heart out
All fantasies, dreams, wishes at one, all
colours at one,


Leaving behind the yesterday, staring up at the future
Putting it down, breathing deeply
Inhaling the life, washing away the agony


That’s where the time stops, rewriting the destiny,
Surrendering to the secrets of stars, an air of serenity





yellowwinder.blogspot.com