A Poetry Morning..

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photo by MadhuSmita

There are these mornings
when poetry wakes me up…
I feel how the light through the window
touches my pillow softly..
how the wrinkles of my blanket looks like a ocean of milk
and how, as my breath
falls slow, their waves on my body
fall and rise;
I can hear the water..!
maybe from a distinct memory..?
a good morning paints on this horizon warm
as the sun melts on the queen sized bed;
I turn to my windows and see
my curtains breathing heavy
in morning romance
in jasmine breeze..

Ahh! a good morning indeed.

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On a fresh painted morning

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Photo by Suhyeon

On a carolina blue morning,
I poured some lemon green tea for me;
My teal tea-cup smoked in style
next to my open book..
it kept flipping between two pages..
a ‘blush’ and a ‘butterscotch’ !

A dried daisy between them peep out..
It has been so long that it had seen any morrow.
But even to a day, when I take it closer,
It smells like a love, that
some tender touch collected with care
then left, forgetting, for some
exciting engagement.

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Photo by MadhuSmita

Be Still

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Photo by Caleb Woods on Unsplash

Be still.
When the storm is raging
and your armor is nothing but your faith,
Be still.
When the night is howling
and your walls are thin enough to shake your faith,
Be still.

And even when your spring is here,
You are at your full bloom,
Be still.
Hold Still the fragility of the breeze, smell of earth and
Embrace the eternal warmth.

🌻