Early

Pieces fallen one by one
Of her shattered heart
Between hopes and happiness
She lost everything she had
A long kept promise was finally broken
Together to grow old was their wish
But he ran a bit ahead of time
While she sleeps alone sobbing on her bed
He rests peacefully inside his coffin.

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Hungry Beggar

Dressed in torn clothes,
With a grimace of the face,
Uttering words of plead,
Roams around the old hungry beggar,
His skin wrapped around his bones,
With hardly any flesh in between.

Asking people for few coins,
So that he can feed himself some food ,
What else can he spend his money for,
A few coins won’t buy him anything,
Summer, winter or rain, everything is the same,
No shelter on his head, no place to reside.

“Why don’t you work? ”
“He’ll spend the money in evil”
Are the remarks of the miserly people,
Who spend their life in comfort and peace ,
Who cannot comprehend what poverty is,
Hiding behind sarcastic remarks,
All they do is save their money,
For who likes to give things for free?

In this world of greed and lust of money,
With a hope to get some pennies;
from the comfortably living wealthy beggars,
Roams around the poor hungry beggar.

Phillip Hughes

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A dehydrated champion
splashing some water on his face
standing tall amid a fierce attack
killing every deadly blow with beauty
slashing at the low ones, cutting the high ones,
like an artist giving life to his canvas.
an undeniable promise of a bright future
with high hopes and big wings,
gliding through the clouds of success,
yet another day it was, holding strong he was,
one moment of rush and he fell on the ground,
waves of panic and worries flooded all around
with the prayers of the whole world behind
undefeated all his life, he lost his final fight,
but in a much better place, now he resides,
away from all the worries and troubles of this life,
in the hearts of ours he willl always reside,
as a young man with an overdose of talent,
Rest in peace dear young lad,
you’ll forever remain not out at sixty three.

This too shall pass

This too shall pass,
Yet another assurance to give,
But, still the same old chores.
A mundane soul wanders around,
Buried under mediocrity and overwhelm,
Breathing upon self condolences
That hardly last any long
A search for self peace, becomes
yet another matter of stress.
Never mind the extra burden,
A detour, a short break, little smiles,
Few moments of delight,
But, everything becomes null,
As arrives yet another dreadful night,
For tomorrow anxiously awaits,
The same old mundane routine.
This too shall pass, this too shall pass,
Good night.

Day 35 : So Soon

February 4 Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes You need to make a major change in your life. Do you make it all at once, cold turkey style, or incrementally?

When you first saw him,
you knew he was the one for you,
a white Mercedes and an Armani suit,
Ray-Ban on his eyes, perfectly combed hairs,
you fell for me and I could see it in your eyes,
the delight of his looks and money,
had made you fall in love with him instantly,
while, we still went around together,
with you holding my hands as we walked through,
your mind was occupied by him, I could tell that
with your empty nods to my senseless talks,
your sudden reactions to my random snaps,
it was all slowly falling apart, in front of my eyes,
I could see you drifting away from me,
putting aside all the love I was showering upon you,
you needed more than just hollow promises,
you needed more than just warm hugs,
for all the glitter of the dough had blinded you,
for your love for riches stomped over my love for you,
it was only inevitable that one day when I’ll wake up,
I won’t see you sleeping beside me,
but I didn’t knew, that one day,
will come so soon.

Day 34 : Melancholy

February 3 Writing room :
A genie has granted your wish to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?

Away from the world, disconnected;
with no sign of any noise
or any other disturbance
with the walls painted pure white
a small window, welcoming the rays of the delightful sun,
an oak wooden desk and a timber arm chair,
a subtle aroma of rose filling up every empty space of the room,
a quill and a classic ink pot,
with cloudy white sheets of paper,
a perfect place that would be,
to spill out all the thoughts that cross my mind
but with all these beauty and positivity,
the ink that will settle on my white paper,
would still scream and wail like a baby,
for no matter where I am, no matter how tranquil the place maybe,
my musings would be only filled with melancholy

Sink

Melancholy

I somehow know
We will be together someday
But for now, I’ll not think this way
Because every time I do
I yearn more to be close to you
And each time I feel this way
This distance between us
Makes my heart sink a bit more.

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