Worderlusterwrites

Papertowns ( poetry fantasizing about person )

In my story love conquers all ,
It was warm spring it came
down to fall ,
With you in my mind I have
crossed the bridges and
miles I have traveled ,
I hung in the air still
keep building the castle ,
I am in hope some other
way some other day ,
You will go and unwilling
I have started the countdown ,
If you visit the lakes visit
my papertowns.

There are no hope there are
no promises ,
There is a longing of the play
acted is what I am missing ,
I am in your magical existence
you don’t even know it keeps
me on the fire ,
I think it’s not you it’s my
fantasty town I desire ,
It’s not your fault I should
pulled the bridge before you
crossed ,
Fool to think flames
wouldn’t reach me if
I keep the door locked ,
Now I see it all go down ,
Now I will see it all burdown ,
See around I have burned
everything to keep alive my
papertown.

It’s just cold like you ,
Wondering what I put
myself through ? ,
Now flowers blossom here ,
No nightingale sings ,
There is a particular view
from the window that
I cling , I cling ,
The papertown burned
in the summer ,
Could never survive
the winter ,
I hope and hope what
spring might bring ,
Can’t seemed to fly
with the paperwings ,
I can’t let him go he
was lead actor in
my daydreams ,
You ryhme in my poetry
I get weigh down down ,
If you ever came to meet
me again I will tell
you about my papertown.

Papertown is poetry about how hard it is to let go the idea of perfect relationships or perfect one and only that you keep dreaming about. That some people are better off as fantasy.

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The one that got away

They call me one that got away
Like I was their hero ,
Like I was first sun ray ,
Like they did everything 
in their power to make 
their hero win ,
They like allow me to
touch like first sun ray 
deep into under their skin ,
They call me one that got away ,
Like they never made me 
feel like I would be replaced ,
It is simple I cared more when 
they did care very less ,
When they didn't ask me to 
leave but never asked me to stay ,
They don't even remember their 
sins but I was not the first one 
to betray ,
They often say to people about my 
glory ,
Everyone is hero in their story ,
If you want to listen mine come
this way ,
A sincere request from one that 
got away.


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Reverie ( Poetry about letting go of your dreams )

I hit the note perfectly ,
Can’t help myself from falling for
something most ardently ,
I tried hard failed even worst
I tried to run from the window
down the street ,
My own forte felt like
foreign aesthete ,
Aside the lake behind
all the colourful flowers ,
I know I know I have
wasted days I can not
let go at the night hours ,
You know it’s sad tragedy ,
I have to let go my muse my reverie.

We had to play the perfect
note by one – by – one ,
I was thinking about my
everlasting love ,
I do have regrets but
I am mid of an orchestre ,
A thought came up almost
alluring completely out of this world ,
I went to the moon using
the ladder ,
Lake was left dry and colourful
flowers never grew because
unscented flowers invaded ,
But wrote the verse and I won the charade ,
I wrote the verse and I won the charade ,
Slowly I was brought back to reality ,
It felt in vain it felt forgone ,
My soul losts it’s music to
conductor’s baton ,
It wasn’t end it was start of all
the unending misery ,
When you let go your muse ,
Let go the reverie.

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Happy Birthday to me !

I saw you most getting older . Recollecting yourself from the moments that shatter you into piece and you churned it into your art reclaiming your territory defining new and better boundaries for people to not hurt you. I saw you rising from the ashes and renewing yourself to a version that is more practical, callous and more stronger than ever for your sake. World will always be cruel place to live in get used to it.

You want to tell your story so you spurn your art from the most unbearable part some times from the moment that felt like most difficult to breathe but also from the moments passed like breeze felt like it was the last shooting star in the sky and I was privileged enough to witness it and granted to make a wish. Life is perfect equilibrium of all those moments.

You want to write stories , tell your poetries and tell people stories where they find themselves into it . Something relatable , something tangible you simply want to be a storyteller not caring about eloquent vocabularies and perfect rhyming but people won’t find you approachable.
What’s a point of writing such poetries if it gives no interpretation no meaning and also if it can not make reader dive deep into experience and let you whisper I have been through this too. What’s a point making such poetries if I would ever keep on thinking that I could have told the reader many things but I was occupied making It’s surface seemed like shiny and polished but it was shallow old worm eaten wood inside.

They say change your art making it aesthetic , write some beautiful words and make it a little different add some spark but I would loose my tint of magic in it. Will I ever get satisfaction of writing something where I can never be myself . That’s furthest easiest way to kill the artist. Tell him that his art will be accepted if he tries to be something he is not. Maybe that’s their envy that is sheer visible but I won’t permit myself from doing that . I won’t ever do that . I came to accept the fact that my art is different it is relatable as well as it is something I won’t to do. My younger self would have gone to Oxford dictionary collecting words that gives absolute no meaning to my whole poetries.

Happy Birthday to me ! Thank you for not giving up , Thank You for your acceptance , Thank You for struggles , Thank You for the people who go through my words and lastly Thank You for being simply you!

Thank You for reading!

Black Smoke ( Poetry about anxiety )

They say do it with an ease ,
I should be not critical of my own self ,
But I left the plate on the table with the unfinished food ,
I saw the fumes covering me from behind the woods ,
Say them to lock the door and take care when they cross the road ,
Why do I think that that something might happen we will be hunt down by the misfortune ,
I was taking my stuff running towards the door ,
I felt hand on me hand on me that made me choke ,
I was chased down by my own anxious thoughts surrounded by black smoke.

I guess I should have I knew that everyone has right to their opinion ,
When I had speak something on classrooms podium ,
I had lump in the throat ,
Guess there were less teachers in system who insult and demote seven years old ,
I wish to shut down and shut all my thoughts ,
Lurking behind the seats in the public transports ,
I thoughts how would I face crying all night in the bed ,
You should know smarter I am in my head ,
I remain restless it played behind till I woke ,
I was chased down by my own anxious thoughts surrounded by black smoke.

You know I have to check the book in my backpack ? ,
Do they really talk that shit behind my back ? ,
I inspected the lock on the door thousand times before I left the house ,
How far you run away from your own ghosts when your mind becomes a madhouse ? ,
Why does lights flickers ?,
The smoke gets thicker ,
There is no light I should get out of the room quicker ,
It choke me down though it is invisible ,
I should stop being so critical ,
These things are small but you can make assumption what they can provoke ,
After a moment ,
I was chased down by my own anxious thoughts surrounded by black smoke.

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Cursed Valentine

You hand me rose on this day ,
That withered like promises we were meant to keep ,
Lights in the night flickered they warned me not to go this deep ,
That glittered like gold I was mining before my sleep ,
That blizzard over when I was making home with hopes and dreams ,
That embarked on my window but there was always wall after it ,
There was no way rather to break and get inside it ,
That went down like the catastrophe ,
I looked at my door still with a blind hope ,
Then the blizzard went over me ,
I was left out until your cold crept me ,
Then lights went off and darkness embraced me ,
You were just another metal that rusted me ,
The thorns of roses cut to bleed me ,
The catastrophe ended me with the time ,
I am still holding a belief that soon it will get better my cursed valentine.

Thank You so much!

Just words ( Sonnet)

When it shoots out like bullet from the mouth ,
Barely misleading the target in aim that person in front could be crumbled by those ,
Almost crippling someone’s world almost viciously leaving someone out there to froze ,
Just words those are just words ,
That can cut more worse the depth they go the destruction they will cause ,
Someone doesn’t even think and take a pause ,
When someone takes an oath , makes promises and yet does things to tear you down ,
Standing near ocean still watches you drown ,
They had burned a part of you that would forever mourn ,
That would forever be at grief ,
Trust words how much you could have been deceived ? ,
Yet it’s my blind optimism to anticipate,
For that I always going to curse myself ,
But for someone they are just words bare words that meant nothing.

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It begins

Somehow I went back to that place
where we first met ,
hoping to see you there ,
The answer I expect you won’t
give is my heartbreaking fear ,
Several miles traveled to go away from you ,
Several years now I am at place where we used to ,
I walked through corridors remembering each flashbacks ,
Those rose tinted glass still have cracks ,
It begins as I used to follow through muddy football ground ,
It begins chasing faded steps in the ground ,
It begins until I won’t stop.

I should have been going back home ,
But this heart has stubborn hope ,
No matter how many amends I make it would take a picture of memory to fill this frame ,
You are the person I am never loosing feelings for ,
The silent empty corridor reminds me of visitor that was long lost ,
I begin where we left each other ,
I begin where I should not go further,
It begins from crowd of feelings I tried to left behind ,
It begins seeing you through rose tinted glass cracks I tried to smile ,
It begins until I won’t stop.

The ashes of those memories took its form ,
I couldn’t see what I came expecting from ,
Then not mine I can not even claim today ,
I thought maybe after all these years I would have changed ,
Seeing exit I tried to go out ,
Still I looked back and empty building somehow ,
I am still not that lost if I could be found here again ,
I would still expect shout of my name from familiar sound ,
On one hand I would love to listen from you ,
On the other I wouldn’t expect that too ,
It begins when I keep my hopes too high , it begins when you haunt my mind no matter how many towns I passed by ,
It begins seeing from those rose tinted glass ,
It begins if I moved a little fast ,
It begins only I am able to stop.

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Young and Insecure

Audrey,
You are not being the best ,
Neither you are better child then the rest ,
Your teacher remarked you for being zoned out ,
I don’t know what she thinks even then and now ,
Your father tells that you brought shame to the family when you were nine ,
I still thinks that he was right ,
You tried to change her demure ,
You made her young and insecure.

You are all alone sitting behind the desk ,
You see around empty lunch table ,
Your only best friend is your little sister in the cradle ,
You were the last one when your classmates run ,
You mother never told you she was proud because you never won ,
Bad I only feel for you Audrey because you are mediocre ,
In your family gatherings you are laughed upon you are a joker ,
Don’t just fall like you did before ,
She grew up being young and insecure.

You were chosen in dance competition in the end ,
Your crush went after your prettier friend ,
Don’t cry louder your mother might hear ,
Everything will be alright right my dear ,
Then she grows up into woman who cares less ,
Scrapping poetries from her life’s mess ,
If she knew paper was there to listen ,
None of the moments were going to be missed on ,
She would have done it more ,
She would have done it before,

Know she knows to strip someone through lines she is a word whore ,
She wouldn’t have grown young and insecure.

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Girls who know too much

They are geeks ,
Who are all covered with mystique ,
She still uses colorful pens to underline best sentence ,
She is not looking for people’s validation or acceptance ,
They can see people through their abyss ,
She knows striving alone is a bliss ,
You know she is cursed by her imagination ,
She is so much piled by fantasy that all her crushes are fictional ,
She thinks she can not do justice to whatever she puts on the paper ,
Her first love would forever be literature,
The girl who knows too much.

Thank you for reading!