My love for stoic poems flowing through the veins,
banging against the cardiovascular walls,
was a tale buried in the soil for long.

The soil that saw the raging war of electrical impulses and lightening for years became barren and infertile.
The war of lovely poems wasn't lovely at all
It was like a whirlwind; a hurricane that brought down burning crimson skies.

The battle of words becomes worse,
and the tragic lexicographers of thy heart couldn't control it.
The words starting bleeding in silver muse,
sprinkling like light showers all over the barren soil,
that once reaped the haven
of immense flora and fauna;
now lay dead, succumbed to the injuries wreaked by the war of lovely poems that was not so lovely.

The perpetual clouds of poetry,
stranded in the sky don't rain
but drizzle humbly after the war;
the barren land burning in agony yet passionately,
waiting for the clouds to burst and soothe.

My love for forlorn and forgotten poetry rages war endlessly.
But oh! lovers die blindly in love and dying in the arms of thy beloved, is worth infinity!


© sirisha__chauhan


#love #Poetry #poets #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity