Echoes Of Ink
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About Echoes Of Ink
A sanctuary of words where poetry flows like whispers in the wind. Each verse carries a story, an emotion, an unspoken thought—etched in ink, resonating through time.
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Posts
*Should she give up?* Burdened by the paternal mindset, to stay indoors and cook, should she give up, on laptops and books ? Beset by bawdy stares, amidst snarls and glares, should she succumb, and gulp the churlish tonic ? Where men are the rule, the air condescending where hers is the fault, and culling a norm, should she give up, conforming to a thought consummate ? Should she be derided for her silence, which could be simply the lull, before she deposes the depravity desiccating the boundless ocean. Should she try, or simply give up liberating herself, accepting instead, the cellar of restraints. Should she try, or simply, give up? ~ Echoes Of Ink.
*Garden of Five Senses* The world perceives the human body As a machine- ever ready To follow what is fed into. And keep following, Till usable no longer. But a poet being a different being Lives on a planet different. And sees the human body, As a garden of five senses A garden without grass Appears rough and barren Our skin sans the sense of touch, Only appears as bad. Our nose and eyes Give us smell and sight Just as flowers in a garden grand Lend their fragrance, Their beauty, worth a sight. The garden trees, a meeting place Of creatures of all kinds, Just as our dear ears, Hearing sounds numerous. The trees bear fruits As we taste success Based on what we see and hear The weed in the gardens Plays spoilsport just as Our diseases numerous Hamper us in ways many And just as the garden Needs a gardener to flourish, The human body, Needs a doctor to nurse it to good health Thus the human body, Is the garden of five senses, And humans, its gardners There is albeit one stark difference, The gardener is a necessity, While doctors are not, For while the humans Can tend to themselves by themselves, The trees in a garden cannot. ~ Echoes Of Ink
*Resilience* Playing merrily in the snow, Little does she know, The struggle for her existence. At conception, little did mother care, If it was a Fiona, or even a Clare, But alas, her surroundings did. In the womb when she kicked, Outside it, the thumb she licked, Drowned the abhorring stares. She fought the world, she fought without fear, In her mind it was crystal clear, At every jeer, would they cheer. The daughter kept her promise, so did her mother, Scaling great heights, one after the other, Surfing over the lampooning mob. In her biography she wrote, Treat me as a lion, for I am no goat, But a lotus in a muddy pool, just desperate to bloom. ~Echoes Of Ink
*Someday* Someday there would be peace, Not buried in the grave of saints, But flooding the human streets. Someday fraternity would triumph, Over the grandeur of secularism, When He within brethren, Would spread it evenly, Sans colored hands. Someday we’ll realize the need, To come out of the drying bog, Out of the vision of the Third Eye, To ensure that slogans mean More than mere words. Someday we shall rise, Fighting the demons; For I know we’ll succeed, And there will be peace indeed. ~ Echoes Of Ink
*Nyctophiles* Nyctophiles like to sit alone In the deep dark of the night Seeking something in shadows’ reign As if drifting in some trance Night is their canvass, forever so free Where they, thriving in eternal solitude Revel in the enigma’s mystic ways Confined by reality unconfined. Whispering their hearts poured out To the stars and moons in the sky In the void with long weary sighs Nyctophiles find solace In lunar quiets where no one can pry. ~ Echoes Of Ink
*Love Only Left Me Alone* Love only left me alone, With a heart now turned to stone, Once fired by passion and desire, Now consigned to flames, in a pyre. Times of laughter and joy we shared, Now mere memories to be cared. The tears shed today seem endless, As my soul sinks into a hollow blankness. The promises we made, now shattered, In this world I roam, now tattered, Torn by the angst of yearning, I see those memories burning. Love only left me alone, To face a world that is unknown, With a heart now cold and numb, And a soul forever undone. ~ Echoes Of Ink
*Lovesick* In nights still, I wander alone, And hear you echo my name, In whispers loud, From behind a cloud. Each whisper ever so loud, Yet ever so faint, My heartbeat aches, In thud like throbs. I blabber around, reminiscing memories, of nights and days, spent in love's bliss. Lovesick, I seek you, I search the skies for signs of you, I seek you in the nights cold and dark, I search for you under stars dim, I seek you in the sun shining bright, I search you in the air I breathe. Alas I do not find you, But I find a void grand, Enveloping me in shadows, Absent your touch, sans thy hand. Dreams of you dance by every night, Draped in fate's fragile lace, And depart with mornings' first rays, Leaving me reeling in pain, As I collect the shards of my broken heart. A part of me weeps every night, And a part of me consoles it every morn, For even in this sorrow painfully destructive, Something cherished shall ever remain, Our memories together, short and sweet, The love we shared, in all the pain. ~ Echoes Of Ink.