I keep on hoping that I'll see you one day - Poem Out of Rhyme

This poem is, again, in a style that I am not used to, and I thought that I would give this a go. 
Originally I wasnt going to post this or publish this anywhere, but I was convinced by some of the most important people in my life. 
So to them, I thank you most sincerely, dear ones. I dont make it a habit of naming names on this blog, so I apologize and hope that for now this suffices as a dedication to you. But the support from when I shared this initially was surprising and very much staggering. Thank you to my Valkyrie, who inspired part of "Lullaby" as well. :) 

It was inspired by some personal experiences, but mostly by tropes and music and literature like "La-La Land", "Just One Yesterday" - Fall Out Boy, and a few others. 


With this poem, Its not one of my usual ones with the rhyming couplets, but I DO hope that you enjoy it, and that it evokes something within you in a positive way. 

I keep on hoping that I'll see you once more one day,

In hotel bars,

In Airport lounges,

In the pouring rains,

across a crowded way,

All with a single look shared between us

Like they do in the movies, and in books,

And in that moment, the years disappear.

I keep on hoping to see you once more,

because why not?

If the stereotypes and tropes were hungry enough before

To separate and to tear us to pieces,

Were they full when I was devoured?

If the fates were cruel then, would they not be cruel again?

To bring two strangers with memories, to new shores,

Only to be passing by in ships moving in opposite directions.

Since when were they kind? And why start now?

Why not create a new meal to devour and consume.

But even with all that pain.

I wish that we could see each other once more.

For the fool in me still lives on

through death

through pain

Through every wound I ever inflicted on myself

and through every whispered name I never said.

I keep on hoping that I'll see you one day. 

Throne of the Forest - 2nd Canto

 As mentioned earlier, this is a poem that is based off an original story written earlier. 

You can find the previous Canto in my blog as well, if you've missed out on it. 

This is the second Canto, of an intended three.

For reference -  Part 1 can be found {Here} and Part 3 can be found [Here] 

Please enjoy. Let me know what you think. 
Where I can make improvements. 
Etc. 

II:

Under sea of stars the story resumes,

Nameless babe woken by nameless sound,

Surrounded and swaddled in colourful blooms,

The night leans in, it's touch unbound.

Rocking it's cradle, spurred by magic of blood,

So child be safe, with naught else around,

Disturbed no more, by either crash or thud,

It resumes it's romp, through dreams abound. 

On empty plains, a single house now stood,

With words of magic stained within planks and panes,

To hold the child, who's bloodline withstood,

To protect him from all the world's aches and pains.

While magic met needs when needs were dire,

He learnt from pages in author-less tomes,

How to wield seeds, and even tame fire,

To breathe life from soil, and grow new homes.

Magic that persisted, sewn into skin of the child,

Protecting him from the loss of loved ones gone,

Gave instead to care, a family far more wild,

In animals of the forest, for company, to fawn.

As farmer, he grew at the house in the glades,

As farmer, he grew the glades most strong.

Springing with vigor, a forest like palisades,

Grew with it the animals as years danced along. 

As forest grew strong, so too did the magic,

Overflowing and spreading like notes and tunes,

Till a nearby town noticed a music most ecstatic,

And danced inside to claim the forest's fortunes.

Reaching no depths, stopped by monstrous woods,

And beasts so big and no fear in their eyes,

They beat a retreat, carrying their goods,

Running from magic of notes: lows and highs. 

Word quickly spread, travelling extremely far,

To rest at the foot of the old king's throne,

Of a forest of plenty, and giant beasts seen afar,

And the room was filled with a silent groan.

Family grew distant as the silence spread,

And madness flared once more in the old king's eyes.

The creaking began anew, of chains of the dead,

And armies he summoned, to go claim his prize.

Whispers in the wind (which no one hears anymore)

This is a much shorter poem than my usuals, and the style is different as well. 

I'm trying something new, something that looks and feels a little more "modern". 

Enjoy. :)

From the bright star, 

comes imagination,

To righteous anger turning,

Into thoughtless wishes.

Burning bridges,

To when it all stops hurting,

A world in alteration,

That lives in a faded scar.

(Also, the second canto from "Throne of the Forest" is in the works. I know I've been taking my sweet time writing, but know that it's in the works.)

Let me know what you think, and how I can make improvements. 

Thank you, 

Throne of the Forest - 1st Canto

This is a poem based off an original story that I have written recently, called "Throne of the Forest". 
Its supposed to be a folklore type of story. 

Instead of posting it as a story, however, I'm making it as a poem. 



This is the first Canto, of an intended three. 
For reference -  Part 2 can be found {Here} and Part 3 can be found [Here] 

Please enjoy. Let me know what you think. 
Where I can make improvements. 
Etc. 

I:

A kingdom's death comes at the end of blood,

Staining fear guided hands of the fated king.

The family fled through famine and flood,

Alas, as cat chases mouse, no use in hiding. 

They pleaded with the king, vowing no threat,

Bloodline will remain, under fealty to throne.

But old and wary, in fear of regret,

The king persisted, with heart of stone. 

A lesson learned and lessons passed on,

To kin of those killed for their bloodline:

Of a king who hunts, and lands long gone,

Driven mad by prophecy, to murdering consign.

Blood of the innocent, pushed too far,

They finally turned, to fight for their kin.

Fears confirmed, the king called for war,

Armies once hidden, now bleed and skin. 

Of iron in blood, now chains were made,

Settled on the king, as fate once warned.

To greet him were two, of the last to fade,

On their faces, mirthless smiles were adorned.

"Kingly one, or cowardly one, no more distinct,

Fear has haunted you, and shall further still."

Sneering, opening doors with arms interlinked,

And the king swept past, claiming his kill. 

The room was empty, save an old man by a cot,

Where the sheets were empty and clean. 

"How to hide something so no map can plot?

Hide it plainly, but in a world unseen. 

Bloodline may dwindle, but my grandson lives,

Persist, o king, and the chains shall strangle." 

The king now fearful, with murderous motives,

Searched to no avail, his fate now in tangle. 

No name marked on cot or on parchment,

There was no sign of child in the halls.

Seemingly non-existent, but spies confident,

That the babe's cries once echoed these halls.

Whisked away by magic, far from the grasp,

Of armies and arms of the bloodthirsty king.

Prophecy drove the king eventually to his final rasp,

Many years later at the hands of the forest's king.

Liar Liar

I came up with an idea of how we, as people lie to ourselves, and to others. 

Sometimes to hurt, sometimes to spare someone's feelings. Sometimes, we lie to ourselves, refusing to see what is right IN FRONT of our eyes, whether it be for good (refusing to see red flags), or bad (refusing to see the good). 

So this is.... a working model of a poem about that.

As always, please tell me what you think, and where I can make improvements in my writing :) 

The steps we take, and smiles we fake,
to hide the thoughts inside.
Kings of pain, and Queens of hate,
waiting for the stream to subside.
Masks and Deceit, we wear our attire,
As we live by the words, "Liar Liar".

Some take to maiming, when emotions run wild,
others to hide and save in attempts to be kind.
Still more chose paths wherein unwittingly reviled,
to themselves, in mirrors, we remain as blind.
To hide the truth, in unison we conspire,
As we live by the words, "Liar Liar".

Blessings from curses, misremembered moments,
Pain from pleasure, those which time makes bitter.
Trusting ourselves, well meaning claimants,
of memories not distorted, with a subconscious titter.
Lying, unaware to oneself, no matter how dire,
As we live by the words, "Liar Liar".

My Nightmare Queen/ Jadis of the Ice

My latest work, and its been some time between my last and this one. 
I had my exams, we all had to deal with Covid-19. 
And we're all here now, in Almost September with life still hanging by a thread, and this is my First (Possibly only) work I published in 2020. 

Normally, I never go for a darker approach to my poems, since I made this blog with the intention of sharing positive ideas and such. But there's something fun about the way rhyming works in adding to the creep factor, how it adds to the foreboding nature of things. 

That being said, this poem has been made from some of the nightmares that I've had this year alone, and I also reread part of the Chronicles of Narnia; Queen Jadis, Sole surviving resident of a dying world, and an extremely powerful sorceress, later known as the White Witch for bringing about an unchanging winter. 

A part of the inspiration for my Nightmare Queen also came from "The Snow Queen" by Hans Christian Andersen.  

So, in the time that I sit and wait for my codes to run (doing my Master's Project thesis right now, by the way), I decided to write down my nightmares, this time to share it in a way that I normally would not be.

Also, a quick note. A 6 lined stanza is known as a sexain (as said by the poetry foundation, so we know its official), and I think this is the first time I've worked with this style. 

As always, 
I am open to criticism, so please tell me where you think I can make improvements to my writing. 
Hope that you all are keeping safe, and are well.

And Enjoy :) 

Jadis Of the Ice:

Dreams now spread across the screen,

Stories galore, of the Nightmare Queen.

Betwixt moments on turns of the wheel,

Sleep cycles by on by, with sadistic zeal.

Three stories told by the revenant child,

"memories" shared, we remain beguiled.

First, a tale of ancient islands lost,

Their path with oceans blight once crossed.

A sickness borne of waters deep,

From nine who lay in layers of sleep.

It pierced the skin, and pierced the bone,

Flesh turned water, in air overgrown. 

Whispers in the wind, smelling like slaughter,

"Do you ever really think about the water?"

Snaking past once more, on wickedness alight,

"Do you think of those, now lost to the blight?"

Crawling from the water, infected await,

Wanting their families, more to desecrate.

She shook her head, with emotion, the actor,

Arms outstretched, as worlds begin to alter. 

The Queen bears her teeth, a still of a bite,

"Do you think of those, now lost to the blight?"

Mockingly repeating, the voices of the lost,

The islands vanish, having paid their cost.

Laughing, she turns, turning the page,

Pulling us along, like birds in a cage.

Her grip like iron, her arms opaque,

The dreams surrounding shatter and break.

Drifting towards, old familiar places,

Only devoid of life, no familiar faces. 

An aged house, sat atop a hill,

Wood creaked beneath, weary and still.

Second tale begun of the nightmare child,

Suns set, howls prevail, in the outside wild.

This house of memories, it twists and turns,

Sans people, just you, on tour with no returns.

Your old bedroom, from a home long gone,

Then your best friend's house, just as forgone.

Old classrooms now, with layers of dust,

Stuck, not quite alone, without any trust,

With the queen who rests her hand on yours,

Sipping despair, while the world roars. 

Summoned back to the old house once more,

Her voice echoes, now a deafening roar.

"A single drop is all it takes, for blood to churn the water.
So run child, run far away, and then keep running farther."

The howls renew, the wolves draw near,

Your feet, they fly, fleet in fear. 

Open spaces outside, and sheer drop to follow,

As we crash to the ocean, through noon skies hollow.

Slowly at first, then the world catches up,

Weightless undone, the heart begins to gallop. 

Visions splinter, as she bids you farewell,

The ground approaches and dreams expel. 

Waking in cold sweat, the queen's touch still lingers,

Visions grow brighter, but heart still thunders.

Moments pass and dreams become memory,

Following through, no break in reality. 

No introductions made in her palace of lies,

But her name on my lips, "Jadis of the ice". 

Embersong

This was a poem I don't remember the origin behind. I was somewhat fixated on the idea and I decided to work on it. 

I was hoping to finish this before I turned 25, y'know as a final achievement of this last year I've lived, and I don't know if I've succeeded or not. It's tomorrow in India, as I publish this, but it's today in the UK, where I am currently.

Either way.

A lot of us have had days where we feel a cold that seeps into us, and sometimes have found it difficult to reignite the fire and drive away the cold. Sometimes that fire can start from something as small as a single ember. Sometimes that warmth can come from another as well as from within, as we all blaze our path forward.

Hope you enjoy the poem. :)

As usual, let me know what you think. :)

Lying there with an arm outstretched,

Reaching for stars, unmoving and etched,

So far away, from this world of grey,

As eyes grow dull, and thoughts betray.

We lie in pain, though no cut or bruise,

The roaring falls quiet, but the peace, a ruse.

To days' light, we say goodbye,

As a wind grows awake and dances along,

With stars and dust to a madman's song,

On moonlit night with swirling sky. 

A small light comes alive tonight,

Almost invisible in this darkest blight. 

Pulsing stronger with every beat of my heart,

Burning brighter than any darkness inside,

Limbs uncurl, we prise them apart,

And we blaze forward, we do not hide. 

A beat in steps, on this path I take,

A song is played to swallow the ache. 

I burn as fire, no longer an ember.

The blight before, we still remember,

Not to hold, but to guide the fire,

To give hope to those who tire,

And warmth to those in the throes of cold.

A song in colours of red and gold,

In shapes and crackles, it flows along,

Calling to the warmth, the weary and anxious,

To invigorate and protect, we cast an aegis,

Singing for all, my Embersong.