#bloganuary, Uncategorized

A Rose bud

It was a tiny bud,

People starting caressing her.

For sunny,

it was put outside, to have more sunlight.

In rainy, it was kept inside.

Much were protected, more beautiful it grew. It’s fragrance freshen the whole balcony,

And neighbours praised it’s reddish velvet with greenish leaves amid browny thorns.

Time passed,

One, then two, three… petals began to fall.

A new bud was born, behind her; in another branch.

Now the pot was moved at a different angle;

for the new to reach sunrays.

Rituals started to repeat.

While, The old bud was leaving, it’s legacy, touching the ground.

And,

There again,

new bud away in her world, Is about to bloom…

#Rose bud
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Lessen you’ thinketh

The more you think, the worse.

As thoughts are contradictory, self and others.

Uncombined twisted meaning of conventional wisdom.

Paradoxical events binds together, in an event of cognitive dissonance.

Has been less complicated in approach; Plato has not been melted into simplicity.

Greek philosophers to Indian ancient hymns: Large canonical texts, looks impressed.

Wonder it’s been, to decode:

Thoughts, it’s origin, processed, divided.

To me, to others and to this overlapping structure of society.

This ‘thought’, has robes to change.

Rightly been said:

The less you think, the better.

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Crown

Mesmerized:

by the precious gems, and jingles;
of my crown.

Many of you, raised brows and frowned.

You might be:

counting the stars of my sky, shining, much above; your ever did.

Agony of non- fulfilment might have caused:

you, bemoaning of theft.

And,
Less adamant you might be,
knowing:

Thorns in my crown

Those sleepless night, of countless efforts;
I made.

Eyes swollen, hand shivering;
body crying, “rest in need! “.

Dare I avoid!

Those Bating down.

I made those stars: glittery;
Brushing: time and time.



When you were resting, I at quest.



I choose those jwels from mine of bravest:
With armour of will, passion and writ.

Look the mockery of time,
Yet you question thorns of crown!
I adore it, from the day; I was born.


Blessed was I: to have the God.
To have mercy, to show a path.

Loved I was, it worked out, fruited sweet with dozens light.

But,


Here you go, doubting my sword!

I challange!

Wear your bestest, carry your sharpest;
Hold your shoulder tight!

Fight,
Have these scorns!
If you win,

You can own :

This bleeding crown”.

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