Seclusion

 

It’s like wanting some air to breathe

and stay still for a minute or two.

Allow me to pass please

for I am tired to continue.

Where can I find that open ground

with no one lurking around

and scream at the top of my voice

without being question bound?

All this pretension is making me sick,

Every person has to offer some or the other trick

but all I want is to be left alone for a while

because I know what I need to fix.

My voice is only heard when it is answering 

to the questions I incur.

It is like I have stopped talking to myself now

because my space has been invaded somehow.

Let me hear my voice again

with utmost silence everywhere

and allow me to talk it out

because lately, seclusion is all that I can think about.

Leave me alone for a while, fellow dwellers.

Let me grieve for a while, fellow strangers.

Let me speak to the one in the mirror

and help that man in getting better.

Let me be.

Can I?

 

Often in the evening strolls

a realisation sneaks up

which recalls something really tough.

Should I continue or give up?

The stigma of latter can be rough

but what if I am fed up?

Nothing will ever be enough.

Characterisation has made it hard to give up

even on something which makes me miserable.

So I started to bluff to myself…

The worst kind of gamble.

 

Please don’t berate me for leaving now.

I tried but couldn’t finish somehow.

Only a human, I am.

I wish I had a backspace key now.

Regardless of what they say,

What they say does matter.

Let me find a better way,

Allow me to choose the latter.

I shall come back better,

I shall come back brighter,

I will feel honest and lighter.

Giving up does not make me any less of a fighter.

 

 

If something makes you miserable, there is no shame in giving it up. Giving up to try something new is actually a sign of bravery.

-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen.

Rusted

 

An old bike sits in my garage.

It is covered in dust

and barely does it look nice.

One day it shall rust.

It was my favourite once,

I used to spend hours on it

riding through my favourite paths,

when suddenly it started to break down,

delayed my every plan.

I could no longer go around

and felt like a different man.

Everything has a life span.

 

When something/someone denies you from being the best version of yourself, understand that their time in your life is now over.

-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen

Weak moments

As bad as they are,

Weak moments are real.

And therefore they will come

Time and again.

No matter what rearranged words say

They are hard to deal.

Therefore it is okay.

It’s okay the way it makes you feel.

Bitter and sweet both are experiences.

Burning Tip

Put it out!

 

 

 

I have been dragged a lot

And beaten.

A part of me got lost

Every time I was shaken.

I was set on fire

Because of some unfulfilled desire.

Life was cut short in the end.

In smoke we mend.

Even though I take lives,

I hold more hands than humans do.

But I ask you to not rely on me,

I am ash and will make you too.

I know I am dishonest

But I am also the one who stays.

Even I don’t like myself to be honest

Find something else and put me in the ashtray.

Con-Text

I know life is not all proses and rhymes.

At times it just exclaims!

Every step carries a question,

And every paragraph has its own frame.

Somehow we never run out of conjunctions,

Neither do we run short of scenes.

And no matter how hard we try for perfection,

We mess things up with that punctuation in between.

Despite all this we believe in someone else’s writings.

Knowing deep down that we all are the same, human beings.

So why does this happen?

While most of us keep documenting our lives,

Some write a poem with their feelings.