Poetry Awakens,Yellow Afar Lay .AsleeP
A sense of relief, evoking pure nostalgiA
Yearlong restlessness subsides todaY
An overwhelming feeling of euphoriA
Lavender love blooms stilL
.
Aromatic world painted in tones sepiA.
-Payal.A
-payalagarwal
#Day30 #TSL #NaPoWriMo2021
Prompt by Uiba Mangang
Here I rest my pen for some time with gratitude to each one of you who read my poems, and stayed in touch throughout the month.
Stay safe, and take care.❤️
Convocations
Lessons and teachings remain the same,
what we absorb and how, makes all the difference. Starting from the scratch, all that is learnt is rewarded. Musical symphony blends with the heartbeat. Colourful springs create the vibes.
Meditations
Thoughts appear in crisscrossed patterns. Looking up, the temple gate is half closed.
Taking the steps never taken before,
realisation dawns, the steps that bring you where you are, also takes you where you want to go. Inhaling, exhaling, on a journey, standing there, with pauses in between, an observer observes one's own life.
Lamentations
Lamenting over the losses, feeling all the pain, anxiety rules. Heart beats faster, hitting the rock bottom in the deepest core, oil in the lamp keeps burning, flame flickers many a times. Amidst fear of unknown , butterflies in the stomach, it seems all dark, a familiar voice becomes the guide.
Revelations
A hand invisible to hold, it's always there.
You know there is nothing to fear.
When the feeling of being lost overpowers,
words of wisdom you hear.
By God's grace, the truth of being, reveals itself, in its own space and time.
Celebrations
It's time to celebrate. Why not? Understanding the value of life, and value of each breath, we keep moving.
Springing back to life, let's celebrate. Being alive in itself is enough reason for celebration.
Incantations
Offering gratitude, praying for the world, temple bells ring, we come back to our senses, walking with acceptance, being on the path, mapping our journey back home, with trust and love.
-payalagarwal
Day 29 of TSL #NaPoWriMo
prompt by Dr. Koshy
Journey of grief divided into five parts based on Sufjan Stevens latest music.
Oft I think,
from where do these thoughts come.
They stay for a couple of moments,
and then they vanish.
Sometimes they become poems,
Sometimes they tell stories.
.
For sure, it is true,
The poem we created in the past,
That poem is creating us now.
It is lighting up the thorny path
with the lamp of hope.
Path is destined,
so are the destinations.
I feel blessed,
my poems chose me.
Otherwise, just like that,
words were scattered,
like fragrance in the atmosphere..
Scattered pearls accumulated
in a few words
..like poetry.
-payalagarwal
"अक्सर सोचती हूँ"
अक्सर सोचती हूँ
ये ख्याल कहाँ से आते हैं
दो पल ठहरकर
फिर खो जाते हैं
कभी कविताएं बन जाते हैं
कभी किस्से सुनाते हैं
सच ही तो है
अतीत के पन्नों में
जिस कविता को कभी हमने रचा
आज वो कविता हमें रच रही है
काँटों भरी राहों पर
आस का दीप जला रही है
रास्ता तय है
और मंज़िलें भी
सौभाग्यशाली हूँ
मेरी कविताओं ने मुझे चुना
वरना शब्द तो यूँ भी बिखरे थे
फ़िज़ा में खुशबू की तरह..
बिखरे हुए मोती जैसे
सिमट गए कुछ लफ़्ज़ों में..
नज़्मों की तरह ~पायल
TSL #NaPoWriMo2021 #Day28
Translation of my hindi poem
When harsh words deepened the cracks,
Something didn't feel right within.
I was hurting.
I, asked them all,
they all said, "Forget it, move on.
Maybe they had their reasons."
I saw them all
doing the same in simplicity.
Forgiving, forgetting,
and moving on.
I wonder, if they had their
reasons too,
for listening, and not objecting.
.Fragments of broken
shiny metallic pot
scatter on the floor,
Thousands of reflections
shine through them.
A part of me stayed there,
with self inflicted pain,
burning in the fire of guilt,
of not understanding
their side of the story.
Priceless were the years,
that went down the drain,
Pristine were sparkling tear drops,
that blended with the rain.
"Maybe they had their reasons."
and then..
a pattern created
of
forgiving,
forgetting,
and
to be changed,
so it
doesn't happen again.
Stepped upon, many a times,
the bridges burnt,
I hear you say,
"Maybe they had their own reasons."
I try to keep calm,
I try to understand.
Yes, the conditional response.
I try to relax.
Nothing changes,
on their part,
just a part of me,
stoned.
Still, I agree.
They had their reasons.
.
In a huge circle, I was a small dot,
shy, wondering, and aloof,
then one day I heard someone say,
"A line is a dot that went for a walk."
.... I became a line, and defined my boundaries.
They all questioned the change.
Maybe, I had my own reasons.
Noone understood.
Karmic consequences.
-payalagarwal
Day 27 of #TSL #NaPoWriMo
Hey you,
Yes you!
Stop for a moment,
and look at me,
I'm your past,
your younger self,
would you like
to talk to me?
.
Nothing much has changed,
Your smile remains the same,
the way you look,
the way you see,
your dreamy kohled eyes,
your destiny.
Do you still write of the moon and stars?
Do you still wish looking at the shooting star?
.
Do you go around, and paint the world,
with peace, hope, and love?
Tell me,
Are you where you wished to be?
Am I doing it right,
tell me what you see!
.
Have you learnt to say "No"?
Does your heart still beats heavily?
Do you go numb when you feel others sufferings?
Do you still remember them who forgot you easily?
Does it still hurt you when people take you for granted,
and you never see them around?
Or are you enjoying your company?
Do you still get angry when people lie to you?
Or do you look at them,
figure it out, and just let them be?
I hope you are
keeping your promise
of togetherness.
and you are living happily.
Dancing your way out,
singing the songs of love
with love, without doubt.
-payalagarwal
Prompt by Kashiana Singh
TSL NaPoWriMo Day 26
Dealing with the writer's block,
I sit in silence, slowing down,
taking a pause.
.
Creatively working
through the block,
looking around,
I see the things full of memories.
Tugged in heart, were the tales,
willing to be expressed,
a life willing to be led,
a dream waiting to be accomplished.
and then, time changed.
.
Time travels between
what was, what is, and what will be..
Moments melt into another.
Chiselled and carved,
we sit here with
the moments in hand,
creating a masterpiece.
.
Seeds sown in the past,
Grows into a flowering plant.
Fruits of labour.
.
In the blink of an eye,
situations become experiences,
Time passes by.
.
Dreams of yesteryears
come to fruition
in the present.
.
Past, present, future,
the different timelines,
shielded by
the momentary realisations,
rule our choices.
Nothing happens
beyond HIS will.
.
Such is life.
.
Live.....right here....
in the now.
-payalagarwal
Door opens to the sunset.
There's talk of demons,
choking off words.
.
Blue skin, a weedy cure.
Knotted despair,
a heart to burst.
Inside out,
A temptation sinks
to give up pain.
Wind seethes
in my fluttering cloth.
Like stabbed hearts,
I dangle with strength.
I call on you.
Birds burn.
.
Trust, why suffer?
I understand.
-payalagarwal
TSL NaPoWriMo 2021#Day24
Two cups of coffee,
Cappuccino preferably,
with a pinch of cinnamon,
a little chocolate too,
one with a heart,
and another
with a hint of nature,
exchanged,
a great proposal.
A little sugar,
added and
stirred,
it all blended
into sweet nothings.
.
Real time conversations,
moments shared,
memories created,
time just flies by
while holding on
to each other,
and lifting spirits,
just in time.
.
Trust built,
in the space of no judgement,
secrets find their way out
from one heart to another,
fresh perspectives emerge,
strong bonds created.
.
Dreamy destination.
You and I,
just sit there,
holding hands,
looking into
each other's eyes,
coffee turns cold.
.
Laughter riots..
A lot can happen over coffee.
-payalagarwal
TSL #NaPoWriMo #Day23
Dressed up in her saree,
wearing her dark Red lipstick,
while lighting a diya,
she opened her lips,
and sang a hymn.
How she wished
she could sing.
"In next life,
I wish to sing some tunes,
sing the tunes of gratitude.
The greys, and the blues,
The greens, and the reds too.
Sing the chants, or the melodies,
ballads or lullabies,
but all perfectly."
.
Wish I had told her this,
"Don't hold back, your stories
are the songs in making.
Find the courage,
Don't go.
Open your lips, and sing."
I wonder, if she
would have found a breather,
and opened her lips, and sang,
wearing her favourite red lipstick,
that I applied with a weeping heart,
while performing her last rites.
.
While mourning her loss,
I open my lips,
and sing that hymn.
-payalagarwal
TSL#NaPoWriMo2021 #Day22
I believe in me, I believe in you.
I believe easily.
Far from manipulated existence,
I write poetry.
Words are precious.
I believe in them too.
This is how I talk to myself,
this is how I talk to you.
This is how I learn
a little more about myself,
a little more..
about you.
.
Emotions are sculpted into words,
exploring the mystical,
magical realms,
while soul searching,
or by just observing,
I catch them floating..
In my heart they form
metaphorical patterns.
Rhymed, unrhymed,
they reach me.
Like relations,
sometimes it takes time
for hearts to connect,
sometimes they connect easily.
and you ask me about art of poetry.
..
I talk to myself.
A lot.
I write what I feel.
Feel for me, for you,
for everything and everyone.
Feelings keep fleeting by.
I care for them. Too much.
...Feelings, sing to me,
in raw expressions, rhythmically.
I feel, therefore I am..
I feel, I am alive.
I observe, I write, I learn,
poetry.
.
There isn't a single thought that go wasted.
It's moulded and sculpted,
from the zone of nothingness to something.
If you choose to see.
I sometimes sit around
a flowing river,
just watching it.
When my heart is full,
I gather pebbles, and come back.
At times,
I simply choose to go with the flow.
.
I am human. I make mistakes.
I am not afraid of criticism.
I'm growing. Grateful.
Lots of i'sm here,
but here I am not just me,
I reflect you too.
We become poetry.
You know,
poets hearts overflow with love.
I feel you, I see you,
I hear you, I live.
For us, for you.
-payalagarwal
TSL #NaPoWriMo2021 #Day21
There are 55 words in every stanza.
Sparkling sky.
White moonlight.
Million of stars
shines in a verse.
.
Nights are longer.
Amidst darkness,
love embraces us.
Poetry is formed.
.
Morning Sun rise.
Looking outside,
for inspiration.
Flowering tales.
All abstraction,
full of meanings.
-payalagarwal
Day20 #NaPoWroMo2021
It's all fourteen. Fourteen lines of fourteen letters each, or fourteen words..mini sonnet.
Broken vase.
Succulents planted
in its place,
filling space,
naturally enchanted,
momentary phase.
.
Truth reflects.
Mirrors never lie.
Soul connects.
No regrets.
Purpose found, smiles multiply.
Grace in retrospect.
.
Do you know?
Broken pieces hurt.
Don't feel low.
Through it grow.
Oasis in the desert,
it exists, you'll know.
-payalagarwal
NaPoWriMo2021 #Day19
Shadorma -a poetic form with syllable count of 3-5-3-3-5-7
Rhyming scheme: abaaba
Can be extended to any number of stanzas.
Do you know,
sitting on those garden chairs,
amidst flowers,
with laughter all around,
it felt like spring.
.
The chair in the last room,
on which I sat with a book,
while listening to music,
how do I forget it?
.
The purple one in the corner
witnessed my pensive mood.
.
Difficult to part with,
there were those
broken and mended ones,
those we had to let go.
.
Stacked were the plastic chairs,
lighter in weight
that witnessed
our conversations
in the garden,
already donated.
.
Those tiny cane chairs
placed in a niche,
were brought from the fair,
during early childhood.
.
Ah, right here,
in the now,
this cane chair,
on which I mostly sit,
to write my heart out,
or indulge in a conversation
over a cup of tea,
in my balcony,
while witnessing different weathers,
is one of my favourite,
giving me company.
-payalagarwal
TSL #NaPoWriMo2021 #Day18
All of a sudden it happens while
bursting the bubble of inflated ego, and
channeling the energy,
deeply profound meanings are found.
Everything seems clear.
Fruits of wisdom are
gathered with gratitude.
Humming the songs
in desirable tunes,
jazzing up with heartbeats, while
kindling the flame,
lighting the spirit, and
making it shine, in meantime
nothing is taken for granted.
Often we find the
purpose of life.
Quilling the patterns
rising from within, we
slow down,
to appreciate gifts of life.
Ultimately we begin to live,
veil lifts from eyes.
While counting our blessings with
xylophonic tinkering,
yes, we feel alive.
Zen moments.
-payalagarwal
TSL #NaPoWriMo2021#Day17
Neither at peace, nor totally stressed out,
streaming thoughts in mysterious ways,
my mind wanders in unpredictable space.
.
Some photographs make me sad.
Presence of spring goes missing,
while remembering the details of life celebrated.
The smiles are no more the same,
like autumn leaves,
some lives blazed, and shed.
Memories linger on.
.
Anxiously,
I keep wondering,
what really matters
at this point of time.
Precious bonds are
like indoor plants,
when nurtured
with love and care,
they keep growing.
.
It's just another phase,
Men O Pause!
Irritable syndrome,
takes away the sweetness,
from the cups of tea.
Pulse fluctuates,
many a times.
I try to calm down,
in this process
of aging gracefully.
-payalagarwal
#Day16 #TSL#NaPoWriMo2021
In an unanswerable quest
oft we turn inwards,
guided by our instincts.
.
Walking through the meadows,
through the valleys, and the hills,
crossing all the hurdles,
that comes in between,
we find the answers
in the core of our being.
.
The magic unfolds,
divine light shines,
forming the ripples,
clean and pure,
heart becomes a shrine.
.
Somewhere in between
being and becoming,
we realize the value
of breath and time.
-payalagarwal
From the days bygone,
I still remember
the day, I met my soul.
I felt like I was about to die,
when whole life events
rewinded fast,
in front of my eyes.
Good and the bad,
Happy and the sad.
Was I dying?
or was I entering a new life?
.
I was about to sleep,
when I had
a rendezvous with my soul.
In all its magnificence,
it kept growing.
Love is the language of the soul.
My journey had begun,
with humility and love,
surrounded by the elements.
Layer by layer,
the blindfold removed.
Getting a glimpse of life,
with a bird's eye view,
from the soul's perspective,
changed all the equations.
.
There were lessons hidden,
in the mistakes
made unconsciously,
The blessings gathered,
through the kindness passed on,
Good deeds of the ancestors,
that helped me transform.
.
Reborn,
the owl in my balcony,
hooted..
A bat flew in and out,
from the open window
of the living room.
Life changed completely,
I was never the same.
.
A broken key of my laptop,
still reminds me
of the life I lived.
The changed heart
lives in acceptance,
of the now.
-payalagarwal
#TLS #NaPoWriMo2021 #Day14
When the light shines through
the water droplets,
frozen in time,
thousand rainbows
emerge all around.
When the mind is
crystal clear,
and the senses awaken,
energy flows
in rainbow hues,
and fill the pores
with positivity and light.
.
When shift happens,
through black and white,
shines the rainbow.
Hope is found
amidst gloom.
Full of wisdom
from the universe,
a pot of gold is found,
at the end.
River of joy flows within.
-payalagarwal
When the storms rise within me,
it gets difficult for me to consciously see.
You hold my hand, and stay with me,
make me feel comfortable in your company.
Then you look at me with a crazy smile,
and you walk with me for a while,
Out of the blue you talk of a forgotten tale,
and through tears we laugh a little hearty and hale.
In moments like these I wish to tell you,
how lovingly, I hate you.
.
When worldly talks get on my nerves,
Trying to deplete my spirit's reserves
When, silently the salty rivers flow,
through the valleys with the silvery glow,
Feelings uprooted, blocks the way,
Unsettled wanderings to my dismay.
Then pulling me closer, you wipe my tears,
Whispering sweet nothings in my ears,
In moments like these I wish to tell you,
"Lovingly, I hate you."
.
Hate, is a strong emotion, I know,
I keep it at bay, and just let love flow.
I don't want to admit at times,
so I keep writing these rhymes.
I know, that you know, before I say,
You know, you are loved, throughout the day,
When I read these lines to you,
and you smile saying you have no clue,
In moments like these I wish to tell you,
"Lovingly, I hate you."
-payalagarwal
I wouldn't have written it otherwise if it was not for the prompt "Lovingly, I hate you" by Shalini Samuel. Thank you, Shalini.
#TSL #NaPoWriMo2021#Day12
When mankind became a prisoner,
Stuck at home, gripped with fear,
The roads were quiet, nature the listener,
We witnessed it last year with frozen tears.
.
Many a lives lost to the dreaded disease,
The new norms were set to bring in change,
Stats changed, in the houses, on the streets,
Locked in homes, facing the facts strange.
.
Cows, dogs and crows were seen all around,
On lifeless beaches, in greens and grounds.
.
Remembering the year that went by,
Offering us whole new learning,
Survival stories written with spirits high,
Ends they say are the new beginnings.
-payalagarwal
Day 11 of TSL NaPoWriMo2021
Far away,
the rising fumes
from the chimney,
darkens the sky,
reflecting in the stream
of clear water.
The sound of conch shell,
purifies the aura,
and cleanses it all,
silencing the noise within.
.
Lying down, relaxing,
on the green grass,
while observing the details,
a few moments
spent in contemplation.
.
Some of us sit on the shore,
with feet dipped in water,
feeling the surface.
Some stand in the water,
with body half immersed,
praying, evoking the sacred,
While some take a dip,
reviving the energy,
refreshing the senses,
while playing life's symphony.
.
It's all about the choices,
we get to make as per HIS will.
It's a circle of life,
Essence stays.
.
From the valley
of painted expressions
wisdom plucked, and brought
along with the attention,
to the present moment.
This moment shall never return.
Peace of mind is all we seek,
At times, it's good to just be..
Keep rowing your boat gently..
.
Far away from the city life,
A place found surrounded by nature,
Deep sense of relief felt
with renewed energy and perception.
-payalagarwal
#TSL #Napowrimo2021 #Day10
A slight cut
sewn earlier,
now remains open.
Every cut
makes it more expensive.
Wearing the scars, visible,
unstitched,
few threads,
hang through the cuts and folds.
.
My love for denims
keep growing
even when they fade.
Washed and faded,
Torn and tattered,
Be it rough or smooth,
it feels comfortable
in denim surface.
.
Ripped jeans-
A trendy approach,
of the bare skin,
to the mindset,
of the humans
who keep ogling.
.
When you are
"Being a Roman when you are in Rome."
Ah, society becomes the judge,
of morals and values.
Out there secretly wishing
to be free.
Hearts remain the same,
How does it matter,
what do you wear?
a short, jeans, or a saree..
.
Oh dear,
Spare me,
Don't label me,
if you see me
in my ripped jeans.
-payalagarwal
Don't ever question the intelligence
of the ten year old boy,
whom you see every morning,
holding his father's hand,
looking here and there,
having trouble making eye contact,
who stumbles while walking at times.
.
With set of strengths,
and challenges of his own,
unlike others,
he's learning at his own pace.
Try to understand his behaviour,
and his world,
He's being taught
with patience, positivity, and love.
He too is a beautiful soul,
walking on this planet earth.
-payalagarwal
In another world,
beyond imagination,
stardust accumulated,
and mirrors were formed,
framed with the silver streaks,
of wondrous reflections,
in the light of truth.
.
Life was chosen,
in a moment of realisation,
while tasting the two worlds.
Such are near death experiences.
It all felt like dream.
.
A new world opened its doors,
under the azure sky,
in the flowering tales,
and the cooling embers,
breaking the patterns,
that went round and round
in circles.
.
In a moment we are here,
As we close our eyes,
the other moment, there.
.
Either dreams are real,
Or it is all an illusionary reality.
-payalagarwal
The demons were dancing all around,
When the darkness engulfed
Lost souls could not be found.
When the angels danced on their heads,
they fell in the abysmal stream
in the linings
of their own consciousness.
Perceptions changed,
The strings of lyre broke.
as their wings disappeared.
.
The fallen angels waited
with the baited breath,
for the renewed wings to grow.
.
The silver light shined,
and the angels rose,
to fight the demons
of darkness, with their light.
.
Conquering the darkness,
they danced on the pin heads.
.
It's absurd, it's weird.
the dreamcatchers
were made
with the angels feathers,
for the sleeping human race.
-payalagarwal
#TSL #NaPoWriMo2021 #Day6
Under the grape vine,
on the swing, I used to sit,
with a book in my hand.
Sometimes, I sat on the marble floor
with my feet on the cemented stairs.
Those were the times,
when our whole world felt like home.
It all felt real.
In the concrete jungle,
"Real" today is overrated,
Smiles, looks, expressions, relations,
all seems plastic.
My inner child connects with
a bronze statue of a child
placed in the campus
of a high rise society,
with a book in hand,
all day and night,
as if observing the tiny details,
looking at the larger picture,
through the magnifying glass.
The pros and cons of growing up.
-payalagarwal
On a busy street,
In a shop full of
musical instruments,
Many voices
of the strangers were heard,
Singing bowls, in different sizes,
were on display,
with symbols like 'Om',
to calm the soul.
The lazy music was still. Within.
.
Meditating on sound of the waves,
in the evening, as the moon rose,
Slowly, the winds sang
through palm, and the coconut trees,
Our hearts were beating in symphony.
The lazy music was still. Within.
.
In the stillness of the night,
the sound of wind chimes
create magic.
Talking our hearts out,
under the starlit sky,
Something stirs within.
The lazy music is still..
rejuvenating and relaxing.
-payalagarwal
My head was heavy after watching movies, back to back. Before going to sleep, I wrote a page in my diary, kept it on the bedside, near a wooden Ganesha statue, and looked at the watch. It was 1:00 a.m. I fell on the bed, and went to sleep. Something pricked my finger, and strange sound woke me up from deep sleep. Hurriedly, putting on the light, with eyes half closed, I saw the time. It was 3:00 a.m. I saw blood oozing out of my index finger, and a glass was rolling on the floor, water had spilt on my diary lying on the side table. I saw the squeaking monster, hiding under the bed. In the light, it came out, and ran down the pipeline. Looking at the Ganesha's statue, I cleaned my wounded finger, bandaged it, and thought of writing all over again. A new beginning.
Water in my eyes.
Damp pages speak of washed words,
The mouse ran away.
-payalagarwal
#TSL #NaPoWriMo
1.
How do I write a hymn of the night,
that often kept me awake.
Sleepless, I've laid,
wondering all about my existence,
questioning deeply,
in moments of restlessness.
.
Planting a kiss on my forehead,
Assuring and reassuring,
you tell me, we matter.
Taking a deep breath,
I remember the dark of the night,
that taught me to value the light.
.
Moony tales on the starry night,
At times got obscured by the clouds.
In the darkness, senses awakened,
pearls found.
By grace and gratitude,
His will was written
as hymns in crevices
of the heart.
Moonlight still sing the melodies.
.
2.
Twenty one years ago,
In that moment of
unsettling argument,
between my heart and the brain,
at eleven in the night,
you played a love song,
loud enough on that music system.
It soothed my soul.
All the thoughts
that took me far from you vanished.
It was all right.
.
Moving towards each other,
Bridging the differences,
throughout these years,
on a full moon night,
we sat there for hours,
in gratitude, near the sea,
with our cups of coffee.
You played that song again.
Times have changed,
yet, it soothed my soul.
It all felt right.
.
How do I tell you,
that little things matter,
they add to the memories.
When sleep seems afar,
I lay my head on your shoulder.
You stroke my hair,
and play that song.
It all feels right.
For us, it's like hymn of the night.
Sacred and pure.
-payalagarwal
#TSL #NaPoWriMo
In a chaotic moment,
a strange peace engulfed me,
when you laid your hand
gently on my shoulder.
As rain calmed the heated earth,
soothing the heat of the moment,
a raindrop settled on my palm.
Your sweet gentle smile
found its place in my eyes.
The lakes filled us,
and we sat there for hours,
holding hands, watching the ripples,
talking about how the strangers
in this strange world,
were destined to become one.
We looked at each other.
The whole universe reflected in our eyes.
I closed them, and the cosmos filled me.
Poetic reflections settled on my skin.
The warmth of your touch
ran through the veins,
closely knitted,
and found its place on my body,
skin deep, as cellular memory.
-payalagarwal
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