Story of An Insomniac.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.”

One threaded in moss dreams
Dangling from a teardrop
Let the words drip like dew
Healing and soothing the cracks
Within my stone heart

The tales told from the soul
Tilts on the eyelash
A blink away
Those tales fall inside the iris galaxy
Where sleep becomes a lullaby

For the restless.

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A Moment.

Looking down to a porch where the Bluebells grow
Next to them the wild garlic will show
An old dusted swing creeks with a century of age
With brand new shoots and the sun they crave
A crystal clear thought to sublime and make my nest
Flows in my conscious what Sir Milton thought of the rest
The gentle swooping wind swifts down like dive bombing planes
In a field of pure sunset like country lanes
In the distance a Wood Pigeon coos
And the rest of the birds also voice their views
Beneath this sunset filled velvet persian sky
Hear the distinctive sound of a Pheasant cry
As dusk sets in with moon rising higher
far away glows a farmers pyre
Soon to come the majestic Bat
Skillfully collecting Moth and Gnat
Stood up to the wind debating on directions
A moment screaming perfect kind to non-fiction
Twelve hundred seconds of the life spent
And I shall call this My Moment.

————
Blogger Note: I am on a weekend get-away at a hill station where my brother studies in a boarding school. Today I found myself sitting here at an old swing, reading Paradise Lost by JOHN MILTON. Maybe that’s why I was inspired to express my Moment in a form of poem.
It was simply magical. 🙂
Have a lovely weekend ❤

RE-LAPSED LOVE!

 Hi! I’ve been too much into poems lately. I draft it and then trash it away (Oh! the irony!! ). Well, today I’m posting a poem I wrote on this day back in High School related to, obviously “Love”. When I re-read it today, I was like “Yuck! This doesn’t even make sense!” but  my friend Pray (who hates his name because it’s a verb) told me, “If it didn’t make sense to you.. you wouldn’t have written it” and I knew somewhere that though it’s stupid, I loved it anyway. I was so vulnerable back then, but when I see how far I have come from the last bench, corner row I think I am the most vulnerable now in the present than I was back then. Love is weird, and this poem is even more weirder.  

IF…

If love is full of ups and downs, then why does it go side-by-side?

If a man has got his basic needs, then why is it incomplete without love?

If love entails understanding, then why it devises misunderstanding?

If love is never-ending, then why does it has voids in between?

If love is splashing affection, then why is hatred is so de-hydrating?

If love is so sensitive, then why do we feel numb?

If love is real and true, then why are people so fake and false?

If love is like a game for some, then why do people live by the same rules?

If love is blind, then why can’t people cure it?

If love is about changing ones life, they why do people end up changing the definition of love instead?

If all these questions are too easy to answer, then how about this one…

IF LOVE IS SUPPOSED TO BE BEAUTIFUL, THEN WHY DOES IT CAUSE PAIN?

*hides under the blankie*

Have a great day!

-A

Young Shields.

Come and take a look behind the curtain..

Peer under the surface to see things that are dark for certain

Beneath the coat of smiles and jokes

Is a dark abyss with the humanity being choked

Yes you tend to do things sometimes that seem like you are not correct in the mind.

It’s because you are so lost and confused, sanity is so hard to find

You really think at times that you are going crazy

And that you are losing your conscience, when tear jerker stories don’t even phase you

It’s crazy that at times you make yourself cry

Just so no one can see how numb you are inside

Everyone seems to have an answer to your problems

Like they’re some psychiatrist. But no one cares about them

Nobody knows the visions you’ve seen

The horrible terrible things that even you’ve dreamed

but you don’t say this to get pity or sympathy or a sadistic cool

just want them to know, you need somebody to see the true you

To see your struggle to keep this world upright

To see your constant battle against your demons at night

To witness the crushing agony of defeat

When theres no harmony and everything is offbeat

To realize that at times you cling to the best things in life

With a death-grip you fight for the things that make you smile

Anything…just to numb the pain for awhile

Anything..to be free from this lifestyle

Anything…to be nothing but versatile

and you just know you’re an addict, there’s no room for denial

That it wouldn’t be a part of it, if there were no trial

Things seem better as you get higher and higher

Sometimes the world seems so much farther beneath you

That it doesn’t look right it seems like a monotonous hue
& you are just there…

You do what you can, but can’t fight who you are.

You mess up your plans and fold your own hands

Somewhere there hoping them to understand.

You can hear yourself screaming internally

And think “why am I filled with such uncertainty?”

You still go on, though they think you’re wrong.

Their denial is just an understatement, you start to grow strong.

You learn to treat yourself right, even when you’re mistreated.

And you don’t let anyone bruise your self-esteem, even if under-estimated.

You manage to take control and don’t lend your emotions

You deal with your own obsession,

Drink, laugh, and move on- same old fashion.

You only make them see what you choose to show

Its not like you want them to come to you, you just lie low.

Among all the odds I’d like you to know…

Keeping your emotions there inside, all concealed

There’ll be that special one to whom you can reveal

And amaze them by showing how quickly you heal

Those moments will make you realize just how simply happy you feel,

You are not ordinary,

You sacrificed and fought in that cold-blooded battlefield

You are one of us.

You are a YOUNG SHIELD.

https://d19tqk5t6qcjac.cloudfront.net/i/412.html

The Mask – A Poem.

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Existing in the realm, of its own true hell
the striding of the parasite begins to swell
it aches in silence yet demands to be heard
it will never survive without its bevy of words

As an infant, it fed, on what it desired
and the need to grow was quickly retired
it donned a mask it had soon acquired
and eventually dressed in regal attire

As a thief of hearts, it sought our souls
and refused to acknowledge the unspeakable tolls
it relished our pain our faults and our woes
acted as friend yet lived as foe

For the lower we were, the higher it’s rise
sometimes nestled on pillows, feathered with lies
soaring as an eagle, through bright blue skies
impeding the light, from watchful eyes

These were few, who could actually see
how sad and sickened, this thing could be
they lost their battles, to make it flee
as it wiggled in joy and laughed with glee

For as day turns to night, conflicts persist
the heart can grow cold, but the soul still resists
new defenders of truths will continue to enlist
and the spirit of God will always assist

The mask took form, and revealed a child
the innocence of eyes that appeared softly wild
no sign of his pride, no sign of the vile
how dare the “truths” accuse him of guile

Hearts blood flowed, and non seers cried
as the villagers witnessed a man so tried
a man who was beaten, and his humanity denied
a man who was not evil, but sanctified!

The steel once hot, now cooled to strength
it enveloped his soul and his body at length
the blood of hearts, flowing in sync
protected him now from morality’s links

Alas truth lost, but so did the beast
for a cancer did grow, and on lies it did feast
from within his throat, it locked in its feet
and his mask is now meeting a deadly defeat

Existing in the realm, of its own true hell
the pacing of the parasite begins to swell
it suffers in silence yet demands to be heard
it will never survive without its bevy of words