Elsword Poems

From morn to night, there I go To stand and watch few people; Who comes and go like a dream, In the little town where I dwell. Beside the fire that burns merrily I study the silent little waterfalls, As

With a singing heart and basket in hand I skipped my way for my weekend store. Dreaming of cinnamony muffins and freshly baked loaves The smiling farmers selling all their veggie and fruity delights. I passed by the quaint and

Incredible moon tips the hallucinating tree. Lake propels the waves to limbs and strips to bank. I wear my lightning and enter into a process outside body. The night betrays and goes back to sun. There is a frame of

In time warp, to find the fell of a dark moon my thoughts bring out a birthday gift. The first step in fog discovers the sharp edge of kindness. Who will believe this black and white, suicide of a sage?

Remembrances… A wild laugh, needling rain, choked breath, flashes of pain. Memories slumber, dreams drain! A past I hold, tied to my back. A heavy bulging, under the skin, sack I walk past the stories, of flowers and song A

I was determined to churn out a poetry at any cost I scramble for ideas at no cost Topics in abundance do flash in random but they all appear to be in tandem My brain gets overloaded with thoughtless thoughts

As I lay in my sleepy bed With your poetic words flowing through my head Wooed by a prince I felt a queen As I sank into a sea of dreams And tho’ consummed by a fathomless flood I awoke

For two days I stayed in a hill resort Opposite was a hill top, easy to conquer with little effort That was covered by many a variety of tree Without greenery, leaving few gaps, as free Those gaps looked like

Crisp eucalyptus leaves Pale green, redolent with a spicy aroma Some just shards of the palest beige A fragrant carpet underfoot With every step and every breath. Perched on the branch Of the lichee tree Rough barked Black ants tickling

First love I recall now, and I will hence, Like rain that came ahead of April’s norms, It wets us through, though deemed of no offense, And laced our days throughout the August storms; First things have always claimed in

ZOETROPED – that’s how I feel – or like YARN upon Dame Kismet’s wheel XANSTHOPSIC mellow is the mood WHICH jaundices not my attitude VERISIMILOUS is what I am ULTIMATELY just a man TRUE to myself and the chosen few

Grief swoops in and steals your soul Taking you hostage, you are bound unable to move You are wracked with pain You beg to be free Your mind is screaming out and then, Silence… Grief wins You realize, you must

With sticks and stones, to pass our time, we roamed the countryside. Like our mouths, the earth was dry. The sun poured down on our joy ride. Summer holidays always bruised my ankles and my knees. Once it gave me

The roses you bring every morning become an interval between hope and ending. Thinking about it, impulsively I contradict God against humanity. Little murder here and there of nihilism, sweet smell of faith, taking any road to reach the climax,

Is there no star will lend me its fire? For I’m cold, so terribly cold. My teeth chatter, my skin pales And as I lie there, shivering and shouting For help, in vain, I could do with the memories And

…. Heal These Broken Wings Perhaps I was addicted to the lighter side, Smothered in darkness put whippings on my backside Somehow as an adult my heart became alive, It used to be asleep blind & only smiles I don’t

Each day brings a new turmoil unfazed i stand it pricks me like a needle and i keep standing tall don’t even acknowledge the sting am becoming numb another threshold another day am waiting for the moment when i finally

What do you see in darkness? Dark spots here and there. You are blind until you see the light. You need to enlighten by light. But darkness is not a bad thing. Absence of light, is called  darkness. So darkness

In my imaginary country stoned port authorities deport individuals for bad taste: the absurdity of airbrushed garments or plaid and argyle… Semper fi legal leniency toward serial killers –such immense effort, the extreme exertions of the will that conceals so

A photograph is a whisper, Of an untold story, One that is deeper, Than just an emotion. It is a beautiful mirror, Reflecting candid moments, With a unique wistfulness, That captivates your heart. It is sometimes a lovely portrait, Of

I have lost myself in some dark corner A corner with unknown path Buried in some sepulchre Such is the grief within The mind revolts to think The heart is numbed with anguish Pain is my best partner Such is

When the mice roar, Even the lions squeak All those who had mocked And dismissed the meek Now scream in fear And in terror, cower As there happens a monumental Shift in luck, in power. For those who are on

Though words are cheap, and often said, By the tongue of fools, some are lead. In the darkness of night, they lay await, To guide the weak, to their fate. When they gain, their victims trust, Then they cause, their

Think of death Grey clouds arrive Dark rain pours down Cold and clammy ground Think of life Seeds sprout out Flowers bloom in season Tender green leaves all around Think of love Dewdrops on leaves Soft petals strewn on earth

You make such lame excuses because you want what amuses hanging out with friends praising on what they find you promise to start life from a new page but like seasons it changes promises from your mouth continuously flow but

Take my soul and watch it burn. Thee shall not be afraid of the flames that surrounds the earth. I only seek revenge on those who my trust betrayed. A minute more not to waste. They shall run. I will

Leela was what she said, she said with those eyes I heard nothing she said with those eyes I swear I lost my name with those eyes I knew my world would change with those eyes My thoughts were confused

Maybe, just maybe, love is not a forever thing you know? Maybe it is just an evening spent taking crowded trains to unknown stations figuring announcements in foreign languages and wandering walks through dilapidated bylanes full of squishy muck and

I down my sorrow with pain that keeps bugging me again and again. just doesn’t ever leave me wants to hold onto my soul forever. Every time I think I win I start over again you see its clever. It

You run through my veins like blood, I close my eyes only to see your face, the tug on my heart assures me you are still there. We had our time, we have moved on I see you and I

In Chicago, by the early 70’s, many great churches had taken flight Off to suburbia they went, seeking refuge from crime and blight In the late 60’s, one man answered the call to win the lost to Christ He moved

As the yuletide bells ring, the gladdened sparrows sing, red-hooded santas bring delights of a joy-laden kid. Reindeers each of regal breed, all across the white plains speed to yonder snow-covered climes to take the joy of the times. Carols

When the angels created you they danced They sang and played with you constantly They laughed with you and had a smile on their faces all day They held you tenderly in their arms while you slept The day you

Don’t look at my smiles and cheerful face Because I have hidden tears underneath The hypocrisy of world made a base To dip down in the ocean and to see beneath Wonderful people are from wonderful race My enemies are

Whilst bequeathed are the grasping wealthy with pilfered, false grandeur, plundered and encumbered are droves of working poor….. As the rancid wind of wrongness rages and fiercely blusters in your faces, arise, my brethren, arise, effect its due demise, for

I have a box and that’s for a fact- from which an act is being lead. With scripts of wild puns that overlap, it banters back while remaining intact! Equipped with taunting realizations that retort- with hiss as they push

I still have it your favourite pink roll comb with the smooth bristles and colourful buds on edge entangled with your hair which I never removed. It’s here. Hope to meet you someday and find your hair messy that moment

That targeted sleep will not come at once in the tamed night. A shifted pain lifts the irretrievable word shamed at edge. The godwings weave the rhyme of flight for the wedding of death. You are born again in sleep

Eating fire, but entangled in the cobwebs, of becoming or not becoming a child again; in the hollow of a maimed body looking beyond the opaque hirsutism of lies. Path leads to inward lake where I will meet you on

The days are rushing by Leaving no option to turn around the time by Everything is mashing and smashing out of order Leaving a relinquished agony in the heart That aches more when thought about the past…. I wanna run