Swings of a rhapsodic mind

She was a wildflower, The world didn't spare her a fleeting glance True, she was not exquisite. She lay beneath tall flowers blooming her own way. She was wild yet not fierce, She dazzled in her own skin, She wasn't a pleasant memory to behold No one bothered to make her one. She was frail yet bold., The world missed her light. Yet, she loved the world with all her might. She knew not what it took to hate. She was a wildflower, And she bloomed like no one else. And yet came a breeze She danced in her wilderness Her flimsy petals started to breathe. She found no place in garlands Nor in hearts. The breeze shook her core, She turned back to where she stood. Back to being a wildflower Coy in her own skin. Bloom, she did, For she knew, she was a wildflower, And it meant she would bloom like no one else. . As the poem runs, I wonder: Was she a curse or a blessing in disguise?

The world sold me honey coated lies And I bought them without realising why! I never stopped to ask, l never saw where was I heading towards? I was drawn towards what seemed fancy, I did stop once when I figured I had it all. But lo! the idea of fancy disappeared. They laughed at me and called me  trash And I wondered, was I a fool or the world a mess? I looked at them in disdain, my blood all cold, My heart trampled and so was my soul. Damn girl!, you are pretty in your skin. Your flaws are your perks which sets you apart So stop as you read this, stop being someone else. Stop hiding your freckles layered under a cream. Let your hair run wild,  free it from pins Your chapped lips require no tonic, Your scarred hands look striking. It's okay to fret over eggs which got scrambled It's okay to burn a toast which you wanted golden It's perfectly fine when your coffee tastes bitter You were not born to sweat behind the stove So ride your bike, go hitchhi

Ever wondered where do the soaring kites land up? I have seen kites, have seen them carrying all the colours that a rainbow promises. They fly high, past the clouds and meadows and onlookers. They keep flying past you and you wonder how good it might feel to hold them, to make them yours.  And you start running, you cross streets, meadows, different cities and yet you find them flying high, out of your reach. And all of a sudden when you already had stopped hoping to find it, it drops right before your eyes and you find yourself holding it. There, that very day you realise you don't really know what you want to do with it. You were told to chase it but not what to do when you would find it! You come back home, smoothen it's creases, mend its broken ribs and tie it to your window sill. It starts fluttering in the roaring wind. The thread tied to it pins it down each time it tries to escape. And then one day you realise it's not yours, you are not it's home. You

When the drew drops settled for the leaves The tree began grumbling in disgust How could those dew drops send forth a chill to it's barren heart! The tree mused for days basking under the prudent sun The dew drops made the leaves sparkle Sparing the old tree trunk a rugged look The leaves were his, how could the dew drops outshine his glory! He maintained his calm. Autumn made his leaves quiver They couldn't outlast it's wrath The dew drops vanished in thin air The wry leaves lost their charm The old trunk in its glory stood rooted. His solitude was finally rewarded. All in the sands of time do disappear, And all that remains are memories that you can't outlive.