How many times are you going to enthrall me with your colors, dear nature? Yes, I love the flowers that bloom on you but look at you.. Your leaves are changing colors too. From sweet green to flaming orange and burning red So bright, so bold. How do I stop admiring your wonders? How are you so strikingly beautiful? Look at you stand under the bright blue skies amidst the green meadows, Wearing your red and orange leaves. Yes, the temperatures are dropping but you don’t seem to be afraid. Grounding me to be fierce and hopeful With you all over again.. Hello Autumn, let’s embrace the cold days ahead.
I am not a dragon, I do not have a horde. I am trapped inside this empty dark cave With no shiny heaps of gold.
I wander aimlessly in the darkness with no real goal. I wonder what’s in my destiny, Is there a purpose for this existence? I curl up in a corner and sleep like every other day. But, who’s here today? A little boy has walked into the cave.
He stands in front of me fearlessly and smiles. I snarl, smoke rises from my nostrils. He steps forward cautiously, his hand reaching towards me. I curl deeper into the cave. He waits patiently, his soul emitting an aura of kindness. I rise up and breathe fire. The boy as small as a shrimp near my feet, Watched me in awe with no fear. The cave was no ordinary one, The fire melted the layer of soot away and revealed walls of gold. The cave shone like the sun in the darkness of the night, With a mighty dragon queen and a little boy as a guiding star by her side.
this is for us. This is for us who sing, write, dance, act, study, run and love and this is for doing it even if no one will ever know because the beauty is in the act of doing it. Not in what it can lead to. This is for the times I lose myself while writing, singing, playing and no one is around and they will never know but I will forever remember and that shines brighter than any praise or fame or glory I will ever have, and this is for you who write or play or read or sing by yourself with the light off and door closed when the world is asleep and the stars are aligned and maybe no one will ever hear it or read your words or know your thoughts but it doesn’t make it less noble. It makes it ethereal. Mysterious. Infinite. For it belongs to you and whatever God or spirit you believe in and only you can decide how much it meant and means and will forever mean and other people will experience it too through you. Through your spirit. Through the way you talk. Through the way you walk and love and laugh and care and I never meant to write this long but what I want to say is: Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it: make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourself and let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story. Let your very identity be your book. Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.
So go create. Take photographs in the woods, run alone in the rain and sing your heart out high up on a mountain where no one will ever hear and your very existence will be the most hypnotising scar. Make your life be your art and you will never be forgotten.
– CHARLOTTE ERIKSSON
Beautifully expressed by Charlotte Eriksson in her book, Another Vagabond Lost To Love. Thank you my friend, Abhishek Labhe for sharing this poem with me!
It was noon, sometime in June, when the wildflowers had started to bloom. A straw hat on the head for the groom and a dusty pink gown for the bridegroom. In the golden light of the summer sun, people glittered like shiny pearls. Glasses clinked, lovers winked, kids frolicked holding orange ice cream. Eyes sparkled with merriment, there was a magical happiness in the air. Celebrations, weddings, garden parties, on sunny days are always the best.
It’s so peaceful. Another world, Another universe. The sound of waves gently lashing on the beach. Each one with its own song to sing. If only you could hear, At a far distance – a bird No, lots of birds – their sweet calls Then someone calls me .. Breaks my reverie, And I’m back on this beach, On earth. I look around. I can no longer hear the music of the waves, Lost are the songs of the birds. I am in this world Trapped! I want to be free …..
– By Abizer Lokhandwala
Spotlight is a new category on Into Words. Here, I will be posting poems from people who have shied away from sharing their work/don’t have a platform to publish their work/never considered putting their work on a public platform.
Sometimes we don’t realise how good our stories, poems, and thoughts can be and like the saying goes, “This world needs more art.” and art in any form is always appreciated. This section is all about sharing and appreciating ideas. It doesn’t have to follow any rules of perfection. If you feel you have a story/poem/idea to share, then please give me an opportunity to put you under the spotlight.
Email me at: email@example.com
Shout-out to Abizer Lokhandwala, thank you for sharing this beautiful poem with me and the community. If you enjoyed reading this, then don’t forget to show your love and support by liking or commenting below. Looking forward to reading your writings. ❤