Wonder

She is a wonder;

Among the categories

Where angels are failed:

To be classified

Either as a boy or as a girl!

But you are a phobia

Among the wonders,

As you burn them,

Without reason,

And wound them,

For your joke.

She is the wonder;

Who burnt their tears

And smiled at their Gods,

Not for their creation,

But for his blunder thoughts,

Which he possessed for your creation.

Depression

Depressed she was,

Hearing a lost buzz:

Of her soul,

Thinking about her last goal,

Diving into a deep sea of tear,

Without finding a reason there;

She carried a burning heart,

Which was wounded with a dart.

Her words were choked

And the ears too blocked.

And her soul  filled with blood,

Laid her in the bloody mud.

Fragrance

Fragrance

O my poetic muse!

Send me scented thoughts

From your hub of papers

To spread it's fragrance,

With my mighty pen.

O my muse of poetry!

Send me your scented ink,

To fill the lovely flowers,

With the fragrance of thoughts.

O my muse of music!

Send me your scent of thoughts;

Red,blue and green:

Which bleed like water to breed new seeds.

O my spirit of poetry!

Send me your scented thoughts,

To fill my hub of papers,

With the lovely fragrance of soul.

And bless me with the fragrance,

To fly like the butterfly of thoughts,

And to spread the nectar of soul.

O my muse!

Send me the fragrance,

Of a lost soul and a new soul,

So the scented ink may create a world,

Of joy, beauty and peace.

Poetry

I was trapped in the magic palace

With golden fetters and caged illusions.

I was fed with fantasy,

But the ink was missing.

I was trapped in the magic palace,

Where tears flow to fill my ink.

I was fed with emotions,

But the page was missing.

I was named poetry when,

I broke my golden fetters to escape.

Memories

I lingered my memories,

And gave ink in dreams;

And gazed at me,

To sought my spirit,

Which is lost in the sea,

Where I lost my smile.

I chased my memories,

To weep alone for me,

Who lost the dreams in a lonely shore,

Where soul is broken into pebbles.

O my ink!

O my ink!

I found you in the garbage

And sliced you like a cabbage,

And garnished you to manage

my thoughts printed in this page.

I polished your image;

But suffered with your rage,

Isold you in a mirage.

I sought you in the garage,

As you sprouted from the age.

And I found you in this cage

Where you assault my wage,

And made me live as a sage.

Sword

Opened my eyes,

And find my quill

fledged with thoughts;

I took my sword,

And filled the battleground,

With the new ink!

And my quill flew in the air

As a warrior of thoughts,

And my pages bleed

With the breathless thoughts.

And my thoughts took

The inked sword to fly and fight.