Floating Away
Lackluster carousels of mundanity
Floating away, day by day,
Thoughts become lackluster carousels of mundanity,
Dubiety hangs on exhibition walls, on full display.
As reflexive as sneezing,
You fall victim to subconscious patterns of the mind,
Seeking out risk to evade all that is ordinary,
Craving a sweet escape from this prosaic time.
.
Catastrophe follows you like a shadow.
Still, you remain, floating, not sinking,
To the depths and juxtaposition of unimaginativeness and creativity.
Even the wind holds its breath, with no inkling as to where you may land.
And whether you are a dead leaf or a snowflake, you do not know,
But you will add splendor to the world by becoming one with Fall colors or the glistening snow.
About the Creator
Anupallavi Sinha
Poetry
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More stories from Anupallavi Sinha and writers in Poets and other communities.
Power Outage
There is no light. No electricity. Time is moving extremely slowly. No traffic lights, no cars, no people in sight. Yet, there must still be life, right? Wrong. This storm may have destroyed everything that I love. Everything that I have prayed for, that I have waited for, for an eternity and more. Lost. Reckless tornado. You have put out the flame that keeps my heart warm at night. No blanket of comfort can be thrown over me now. How am I ever to start my own fire? When you rain on even the tiniest of sparks that I manage to put forth? What good is shelter in your center if I do not feel safe? My mind is clouded. Your storm is persistent. I am shivering, I am exhausted. And now I have no choice but to kneel to the ground, as the trees bend in your fury. I surrender. But, I’ll have you know that there are no rainbows, no golden or pink skies that you can present to me, that may justify the loss you have caused me. You say it’s temporary, you say a new source of electricity will be installed soon, it’s just a power outage. But when will you realize that it is so much more than that?
By Anupallavi Sinha5 years ago in Poets
The Piggy Project
I’ve had so many names in this life I lose track of which ones were ever really mine and which ones I wore because someone needed me to. Some were handed to me before I had words to refuse them, before I knew what they meant, before I knew I could say no. Most weren’t meant to hurt. That doesn’t mean they didn’t leave marks. Marks that told me who I belong to, who I am by way of who claims me, recognizes me in the good and bad, who walks beside me.
By Fatal Serendipity3 days ago in Confessions
Comments (1)
Oh wow, truly loss for words. You are a phenomenal poet. “Even the wind holds its breath, with no inkling as to where you may land.“ Im in awe, taken a back. Bless you