An Evening In The Summer

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Don’t draw the window curtains back
the sun outside hasn’t left the sky yet
Don’t use the letter to blow a wind around
the words haven’t worn out by you yet.

The bed sheet is free from the anxious creases
the pillow cover has covered it all in greases
It’s not the floor it’s your feet that are flaming
the roof is never asked, the walls say they are burning.

How long will you hold the umbrella?
the febrile wind knows it ways to reach
It’s an evening in the summer of nihilism
don’t open the door of your balcony
moon is yet to kiss the sky without skepticism .

-Kritika Vashist

 

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Yellow Chimes

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I wandered along the sun one afternoon
with quiet clouds, with unsung days of June.
A tall tree clasped in sunlight came into sight
Leaves shimmered as the wind whirled in delight.
I looked at the yellow chimes swinging on the tree
singing the song of love ruffled by the soft breeze.

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I wondered
 if that was all my eyes could see
if that was all my ears could listen
if that was the only beauty painted.


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I then laid my eyes on the broken chimes on the ground
that rested silently, unnoticed, singing the unheard sound.
The beauty was neither in the wholeness nor in unbroken
it was in the existence, in crinkles of all that had fallen.


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Kritika Vashist

(I have been slightly busy with work, despite of that I actually did wander, and I hope I could capture the essence fairly.)

Reminiscing

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The holiday month has arrived
with the scorching sun in the sky,
and the memories of visiting
you, Grandma take over my mind.

For the thick-yummy butter in the dinner
in my favorite daal and on parathas
for the evening tea with two rusks
for watching television with you
for being your hugging pillow and
more importantly, for being pampered
and loved, I would stuff my small bag
with whatever clothes I could find.

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From teaching me to braid my hairs
to give warm hugs before any exam
to teaching me about life and relations
your love and inspiration made me strong.

Now I sit silently and look at the drawing
I had given to you years back to
tell you how much I love you
and shed a tear reminiscing my
childhood days with you.

I look at the brightest star tonight knowing
that you still watch over me and that you
still send me your warm hugs that are
precious than anything I can ever have.

– Kritika Vashist