Thursday, September 1, 2016




It is as ardent as a ruby
And nonpareil as a gold,
Decked with keloids like pearls
It is a pure treasure trove,
Of bloodstained esteem to behold.
It is as byzantine as an art,
Spilling notions of forgotten seasons,
Frescoing the final caged tumultuous echoes,
That had once ripped and rushed
From this heart within.

What is it?

It is nothing but the pains and pleasures
Of that blood clotted scar
On the pinkened flesh of mine
Tasting peace and making me remind
Of those historic embalmment
Of my conquests and of vanquished released.
I am just drifted through
And addicted by the beauty
In my broken places
Across, beyond and beneath.
~Nayanika Dey


I sensed myself sinking down
Culminating the stuccoes of existence
Crossing denouements of mortality
Obeying the laws of life's caducity
And defying the clusters of earthly brevity.
My nostrils perceived the essence
Beyond the sod
My ears apprehended the sounds
Of heavy metal spades
And my eyes saw the quietus
When the granules of clods broke
And made space for me
To lie amongst them
While my body felt the ache
When I was being gently graved.

I roused to realize
That my sweven
Toured me down
To the afterlife lane
To forgraith me
For the next realm of existence.
~Nayanika Dey


Once I tried
To fathom the ocean,
And the deep rumbling
Orchestrated symphony
Of the endless cavalcades
Of those reconvening,
Ebb and flow of
Aquamarine waves
Wrapped in lyrical brevity,
Kept implying deathlessness.

While the spumes
Like rhapsodists in a choir
Made me hear their passacaglia
Of epigrams, missals
And pericopes of life,
Sweeping over my feet
Kissing and trying
To take me back
To the immortality and eternity
Of wisdoms and insights.

I found peace.
That is when I found peace.


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