Nuts to Sense, 50days50styles Challenge – Day 5 (Blitz Poem)

Kick some butt

Kick some nuts

Nuts of steel

Nuts we steal

Steal from stores

Steal some more

More we want

More we need

Need breeds greed

Need will bleed

Bleed with swords

Bleed with words

Words will kill

Words will heal

Heal this world

Heal your will

Will this work?

Will this fail?

Fail yourself

Fail the test

Test your skill

Test your strength

Strength in charachter

Strength of knowledge

Knowledge is Wisdom

Knowledge is power

Power pumps pressure

Power corrupts people

People kill People

People want to rule

Rule like the king

Rule over the wind

Wind will hit you

Wind will knock you down

Down falls the man

Down like the rain

Rain will wash you

Rain will cleanse you

You will then rise

You will be wise

Wise like the owl

Wise with a scowl

Scowl with your brows

Scowl like you mean it

It is getting late

It is making no sense

Sense is gold-plated

Sense is overrated




Bookstores, 50days50styles Challenge – Day 4 (Anagram Poetry)

Bookstores store books.

Books rot rote,

rest sore toes,

stoke sober sobs,

bore berks,

boost eros,

trek roots,

boss boors.

Bookstores store books.

Ps- This has been  the most challenging in the series so far. Not proud of the outcome,  but still push through.

Evolution, 50days50styles Challenge – Day 3 (Alphabet Poetry)

A windy day
Breaks into the
Chest of a
Dying spirit, and
Evolves into a
Firey monster that
Grabs on to the
Helms of his
Insipid dreams and
Jerks him out, and
Knocks him down
Liberating his
Mind which
Now believes
Often, and
Questions to the
Right answers
Set by the
Thoughts of his
Unfaltering mind,
Vacillating no more
With doubts
Xeroxed from the
Years of failures
Zipped inside his chest.

The Ghost – NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 23

And then the words

stopped flowing

As the conscious mind

took over the sub-conscious,

Leaving behind

an empty casket

buried in the graveyard

just beyond the wall

that separates

sanity from insanity,

humility from vanity, and

dreams from reality.

In the middle of it all

the headstone stands alone

Singing an elegy

written by a ghost

who vanished in the fog

Leaving behind

bits and pieces of his soul

that no one in this life

will find.

Question – NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 17

He was asked –
Why do you do the things you do?
Why do you write?
Why do you fight
every single day with your inner-self
and then,
How do you sleep at night?
Don’t they scare you?
The thoughts in your head
Don’t they whisper?
Don’t they pick on your fears,
When you can’t fight
and then,
feed on the wrath inside?
Don’t they scream in your ears
when you try to meditate?
Don’t they leave you
blind sided at times?
Don’t they light up your world on fire
and then,
Leave you stranded in the desert
when there’s no water in sight?
Do they know you are there?
Do they know you’re alive?
Do they know that you hold the power
to shut them forever,
or let them live to see the light?

The Weight Of Weightlessness – NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 15

In the absence of a will to fly
She let them cut her wings
and replace them with
prosthetics made of
paper and straw
that threatened to burn
every time she stepped
out in the sun

But the moonlit wind
was kind to her
With its gentle touch
tried to lift her up
But the paper wings
like all fragile things
would break each time
and refused to carry the weight
of her weightlessness