Shriyandhaa's space

A delicious apple lay before me And as my eyes shone, my hands picked it up With greed My mouth took a bite, triggering a rush of  Taste  And the wonderful apple I devoured with haste. As I washed it down with thirst quenching water, I felt something hugging the back of my inner tooth, It seemed to tighten its grasp as time fell slacker, And I fumbled all along to get it out soon. My tongue turned in all ways As it tried to push the irritant out But at the end, my tongue turned in for the day As I bit it hard - releasing a raspy shout. I used my blunt fingers Nail-free, to pluck it out, But it became weaker As I dug my tooth more - no luck, a pout. I rummaged my house for one - just one toothpick, Or any sharp object that won't mind  Going in and out of my mouth to fetch the bit out quick But only that object I couldn't find. I stood in front of the mirror, Looking again and again  At that stuck apple crumb that seemed to have gotten Bigger  I kept fiddling with...

The sea, the sky and I  And the horizon, a distant beauty  As I sit on the seashore, staring at  The vast dark blue  Imagining gliding across it's still surface  And slowly curving upwards  Up, and up, and up, Let the air whip through my hair, As I attempt to touch the limitless sky Soaring through a vast hue of pink and orange, Or, at times, a faded blue, And as I slowly turn to look around, I see that the sky meets the sea. A slight touch, a brush, that's all, A subtle moment with enormous beauty, And this is where we, The sky, the sea and me, This is the part where the three of us Join together and meet.

Life is like an escalator  You climb on, and it moves  You can't pause it, you can't hinder But the movement of your legs Shall become a catalyst  And when it's the end of the ride, It doesn't wait; you either climb off promptly, Or get your slippers stuck at the end of  The belt. Nothing can be decided by you, There's no slow motion here. Only your balance  Can keep you on the escalator of life. You can either skip steps, go through them Or let time transport you to the right places At the right pace But whichever decision you make cannot be Reversed, Because climbing up a descending escalator  Or descending an ascending escalator  Is a hopeless waste of time, in my opinion. There is no purpose fearing the end; No purpose going back to avoid climbing off The step depends on the way you see the edge; As a beastly, man-eating monster, Or a machine, that helps you out. There are many things you can understand  From the working of an escalator, Wheth...

  I sat on our living room sofa, quietly surfing through my English textbook, making sure I didn't miss any synonyms or word meanings to read for the next day's exam. Just as I was doing so, my mom shuffled over to the living room and switched on our TV. She started pressing a few buttons, and I decided to move on to biology, the bigger challenge. Biology has never caught my interest - and I won't say it's easy to read, either. Just as I grabbed my biology textbook, I heard my mom grumbling. I looked up and saw that she was still fiddling with the buttons of the remote. "What are you trying to do?" I asked her. She continued with her muttering, and after a few seconds of hopeless clicking she replied, "Your grandmother just called me over phone to tell me that Shankara TV is displaying an impressive dance program." "And you're having trouble navigating the app?" I asked, not needing to hear the answer, since I already knew what it was. ...

A very tiny star, flickering helplessly  In the vast night sky which stretches  Beyond what our eyes will ever see Its flickering fastens, and then it's likely Its end But that's just the spot where things begin to  Bend As the star disappears  It reappears just as fast, This time with arrant effect  An effulgent glow Hiding from sight all other stars around. And then it bursts  Detonates, to give rise to something new Something surreal Something beautifully anomalous A supernova  And incredible sight for our eyes to feast upon  And what seems like the very end  Might as well be the better beginning.

  Dwell  In the present  NOT in your whimsies  Because in your own mystical world  That is trapped within your own mind Anything can happen  Absolutely ANYTHING  But, it was never meant to be REAL. See, there's no fault in wishing  Simply brooding over and hoping   What things might be  Rather than what things are. But it does not do to try to make them real. You see, the weight of each moment that passes by Every second that you let slip  See, it's heavy, it's heavy to carry and alter. Every little, seemingly unimportant moment  In your life  Well, it depends on an even more insignificant  Yet significant frame in your life's animation. And absolutely nothing lies within your control Or your notice  So it does not do  To try to make the very little things happen. But what if I tell you, What if I tell you that there is another universe  Not just any universe, but one parallel to us Our mirror, yet...

In the mid-summer heat, amongst a forest I walked, Staring at the strong-trunked, diverse species of trees And I bonded along with them for the rest of the day  I gave them sweet company until I turned to leave. In the midst of autumn breeze, I came back to my forest  To check in on my ever-standing tree companions, And to my surprise, they had dyed themselves bright  A vibrant, vibrant hue of the striking colour orange. In the medial of winter's blizzards, I returned to my forest And sobbed as I found the trees standing, but now leafless  I hugged a trunk, feeling an instant cold emptiness  And I went back home with a heart full of regret. In the midpoint of calm spring season, I walked to the forest  To meet my once tree friends, to wish them all the best  And to my utter joy, I found them standing yet again  And this time, with life, with leaves, fruits and nests. In the time I call many years later, I returned to my forest, Hoping that after s...

  Something everyone should know, Is that just because a string of words However they may be Sweet, sour, bitter, flattering, They need not be factual. Because words are merely an accessory; They're for the people  Who can't understand lucid emotions  Through body language. What you say has nothing Absolutely NOTHING  To do with what you FEEL. What you feel is maybe the only truth  That resides inside of you  And to revolve around those little whimsies  In material form  Is just  A squander of your time. And if you know, With little or all your heart, That the beautiful or hideous words  Uttered by a soul  Is false, Then I suggest you save your little time  And ignore the fibbers. Do NOT waste your time  Do NOT become their replica.

The sky.  A miracle to behold. Everyday, a picture  For our eyes to feast upon Punctuated by masses of clouds And at night, Dotted with stars That beckon us to gaze at the sky And then there's the moon  That shines its heart out at night. It receives its spotlight  From the sun  And as I look from my window pane  At the sky  All I can do is wonder For just how long all of us will be  Deciphering the many mysteries  Of the painted canvas that refreshes everyday, Placed right above us so we look at it, And envy it Everytime.