Alfaaz Sirf Chubhty Hain
Khamoshiya Maar Deti Hain
Meri Deewangi ka Kya Hoga
Tum To Aadi ho Bhool Jany k
Kisi Ko Alvida Kehna
Bahut Takleef Deta hai
Tujhy Muft Me Bhi Raas Na Ayi
Meri Wo Chahat Jo Croron ki Thi
Sestina 2 - Mouths
Rest is planned to the moment,
my breaths let out languid smoke
icicles make goose pimples into sections
books composed on my arms through yellow fog
exposed feet toward the beginning of the day on my housetops
including worldwide planes in the sky.
My traveler bones take to the sky,
each moderate moment
that passes by on my housetops,
expands the crudeness of smoke
like lung-fulls of lemon fog
heaving a cloud of sections.
In the murk of sections
red papery cinders detonate into the sky
leaving a haze of syllable fog.
The last delicate moment
lessens my shudders to smoke,
a colder time of year shell of shoulders on roofs.
Twofold uncovered film across roofs
transform outlines into passages,
an assembly of fumes and smoke
talking monologues into the sky.
I'm minute,
dispersing into canary fog.
Surges of sea fog
make my fingers despairing on roofs
where a flowing moment
freezes pungent froth passages
a get-away from the sky,
my overgrown roost and violet smoke.
Heliotropic smoke
twistings against thick fog;
fine downpour blinding the sky
drenching lemonade housetops.
My bed of sections
twists into an indecipherable moment.
The lilac smoke in my eyes is practically minute.
A mustard fog wrinkles the sections,
like the purple sky dropping over the housetops.
Painting with Words
Words can pass on far beyond most know.
A writer can make somebody grin, snicker, or cry, and sob
All in similar assortment of syllables framing words
A writer can push an individual's psyche until the heart overflows with joy, parts from profound pity, and fades away right scared. All from words framed into sentences
Artists can cause a situation of extraordinary hatred or only pointless faire in one sentence going it to profound focus chasing for goal from sentences making refrains.
Writers paint an image that can't be seen by a bystander or showed in a window case. It very well may be set in plain site something of ******* nature yet except if investigated profoundly won't ever be seen. As refrains structure a sonnet that paints that image
Writers some of the time can just paint fundamental feeling with words yet some can pull crude vulgar feeling from somewhere down in the spirit. Syllables to words bring energy and want. Energy, need, and delivery like two bodies secured together damp with sweat warmed hugs
Artists carrying syllables to words to sentences can catch ones aching conveying along to passages that vibe, hear, taste, smell, and see the consuming need that the verses envoke the nuts and bolts of animalistic desire to break free like a confined lion whose food lay right external the enclosure
Writers bring to close the sections that wrap everything together Can you feel the daylight against exposed substance so warm reflecting off dabs of sweat? Would you be able to taste the delectability of her longing upon ruby lips? Or on the other hand from the dampness that covers his fingers as they float effectively through luxurious petals?
Writers keep painting with words, verses and sections moving to hearing. Would you be able to hear the cries and supplications asking as want works to wild statures? Feeling. Hearing. Tasting. What is left the writer thinks. Ahhhhh to see and to smell
Writers syllables to words, refrains, to sections moving towards the apex of joy all their cravings for the peruser to see. Hius tongue showers the sweet tissue, tasting the musky craving as hands stroke and pull upon delicate buds of delight, the jeans, groans, mews, cries, snorts, shouts, combine as one to shape to a crescendoing of music
Proceeding as pools of dark blue choke out emeralds that think back. A snarl followed by a practically libertine finale as the creatures are shaken to their center. The syllables, words, refrains, sections nearly to the image seeing as the brilliant blade of gloom is dove into the honest heart. Combination of musky pleasantness flickering upon substance as red streams stream to meet and blend, whirling against the pale white. The punget rust blended in with pith of happiness completes the artwork.
Writer began with syllables to words on to verses at that point passages drawing from joy, love to want, need, discharge, hammered into the pit of torment, despair and a private damnation just every individual review the artist's work can disclose to themselves and maybe share with another.
Modesty, Happiness, energy, misgiving, want, need, fire, joy, discharge, torment, horrendous torment, forlorn, despair, wretched bitterness, sorrow
The image painted at this point not with colors on material but rather with words on paper. The psyche fills in the structures, shadings, and lives the sentence of taste, contact, sight, commotion, and obviously the smell. In the event that the writer is genuinely acceptable one may discover they really get a whiff of what is writen touching their nasal pathways.
little passages about certain individuals I don't converse with any longer yet wouldn't actually be pestered on the off chance that they read this
this one young lady I used to be companions with, she was so delightful and never at any point did she see it in herself. I used to take a gander at her however, and I used to wish I looked actually like her or had a character as kind and sweet and decided as her. I used to need to be as liberated from a spirit as her and here and there, even as monitored. It made me miserable a ton of the time since she was so discouraged and baffling to me; her life somewhat ****** back when I had initially met her.
0 Comments