My colourful dream (The irony): A poem by Goodness Nyuwem

Walk with me upon the variegated pathways of utopia
So to behold the rangeless spectrum of smiling rainbow
Look beyond your squinted myopia and webs of phobia 
Into the seventh heaven where colourful dreams glow. 

 Can you feel crystal ambience clad in unalloyed purity
Where herein faith marries hope in a blissful perfection?
Can you visualize such radiant shades wrapped in beauty
Where our souls are enchanted to compelling admiration?

 I see a hue of scarlet blended in the frigidity of maroon
Such spell of lust rained on me like passion never to heal
I see jets of dark guilt and depression, such gluey cocoon
One too many bouts of extremism with which I can't deal.

 Alas, therein lies some magical bowels of dark blue liquid 
Trickling like a solitary tear but of superstitions so dark
And fearful with a flurry of perturbations to make fervid 
Our philosophies and ideologies, whether white or black. 

 The frightful countenance of fear in a red coloured dream
A cream of acceptance with peaches of empathy when grey
Weak, worn and waded with weary wands of waned gleam
Pale colourations at night that haunts my soul by day. 

 Yet beyond these are fine silver linings and purple patches 
Tinged in beautiful shades of nobility and responsibility 
For the onus is upon us to paint till reality so matches
The beautiful imageries embedded in our colourful dreams.





Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A stranger: A poem by Preeti S Manaktala

Image
On a quest to search you—  many questions still remain unanswered. You, a stranger, an enigma and mystical.  I wonder who you really are? Not again, don’t step into my thoughts. Shall I let go of my quest, as you seem too far. You stir my being, question my journey. I long to touch you, you the stranger!  Shall I seek you through the Northern lights? Or see your light in the Fireflies?  Experience your wrath in the Volcanoes  Or your myriad colors through a Rainbow!  You are inaccessible like Moon the stars.  Folklore says I must tread Mount Kailash. Crying and yelling, I even searched for you on my dad's funeral. But now, I find you everywhere!! I feel you in the raindrops. I feel you in the breeze. I feel you through the sun rays. When I close my eyes in ecstasy, I, finally feel you within me...! 
Read more

The book of my life: A poem by Richa Srivastava

Image
It looks just like 'ordinary' as the word is... No shiny wraps to cover its face... Simple as it looks, But every page has a hook for taking another look. Be gentle when you flip its page You'll find some imperfect perfect moments at every stage.. Don't skip a few... for it bores you... You might miss  my  accomplishments, tucked away neatly in a line or two...   They say, ' Life  is not a bed of roses'  You'll see... Some lines are full of agony and bruises... Turn the corners delicately... For some fragile smiles may try to slip through, impatiently... Every line that you have read... ..Is the truth I have always dread... It's not me that you read... it's  my  soul that you've reached! That's not all!  You heard me right! The best is yet to arrive! Its the journey I have been through, Like a roller coaster ride,  This is, This is... "The  book  of  my   life ".     
Read more

The tree house: A story by Neha Gupta

Image
  It was the first day of school after a long summer vacation. Students were walking towards the main lobby from the entrance of the school. After the deadly silence of two months school was alive again with chatter and jubilant sounds from the students. Watching the students climbing stairs and reaching their respective classrooms, there I stood, the first-grade homeroom teacher. While most of the students were having a joyful time, there was a boy standing very quietly in one corner. After watching him for some time I approached him and asked his name and class but didn't get any reply. He held his face down looking at his shoes all the time. I then scanned his school ID to find that the boy's name is Anish, a new admission, and a student of my class itself. The boy was living in the school hostel. I observed that Anish did not speak with anyone in the class. One full week passed like this, I hoped every day that he would start mingling and making friends. He was lost i
Read more