Shriyandhaa's space

  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.

  Rickety benches, Dusty blackboards, Flimsy windows, A squeaky door, Peeled off walls, Greasy ceiling, Cragged floors And a very weird feeling. At times, as silent as the sunrise, At times, louder than a traffic jam, Most times, empty, lifeless and muted, Other times, bursting with joy and laughter. With a very eerie camera eyeing us sceptically, But let it stay in the corner it is in  Otherwise, a classroom that's bittersweet always Either filled with anger, or with uncontrollable  Laughter. During tedious classes, jokes still arise, Soon stifled down by the austere teachers  But when the blagues continue to rocket high, Punishment it is for the whole class, from the Teacher.  But still, a class that isn't put down easily  A class that tends to bounce back to its  Jauntiness  My class is that which is nonchalant and blithe My class is that which is bittersweet again.

Forlorn twinkling dots  Adorned the black night sky And three stars in one row  Shone eccentrically, apart from the rest  And right below the trio A rather lonely duo. And a bit above the three, Orion's action-figure pose indeed, As the one constellation flickered, Together, utterly, As half of the others  Remained submerged in an array of clouds. And that one star in Orion  That shone along with, yet alone, Betelgeuse, as bright as a planet, Does it still breathe, or are the assumptions true? Is it a supernova, betelgeuse? Will we find out, if it still remains? My, so many thoughts , And queries Race up to my mind. How many more things out there,  Waiting to be discovered? Will we discover all of them, Before our timeline to extinction? Does time have a beginning, or an end? Is our universe just one of many? So we actually exist, or are we just holograms? And as I stare at the mysterious sky,  All I can do is wonder, How? How did this all come into ex...

  A memory  That remains slightly distorted In my racing mind  But a memory  That will perpetually stay there Memories together  With that teacher  Who will continue to be the best  Forever  That one teacher  I wish I could still spend time with  But time does fly  And we fly along with it  We grow as time augments We grow out of things we like  But this  This is something that  I will NEVER, on NO account grow out of  NEVER will I forget  Viji Miss ❤️ Happy birthday Viji Miss, I wish you still could teach me Though I can always learn from you. Even, till this day, I remember all those classes filled with laughter  Games shared with lessons, times never to be Forgotten I would love to Hear your wonderful voice that lightens me up Everyday I still wish I sat in the classroom  With the rickety benches but in front of me An amazing teacher, Oh, how I wish you could teach at Middle School! An eter...

Not all stars shine at night, When they can shine brighter in day, Not all holes can be patched up, No, not if they're profound enough. Not all crumpled paper can be smoothened Not if the wrinkles sunk in too deep Not all horses are docile, Not if they're more adamant than mules. Not all skies are blue, If they can be pink or orange - a prettier hue, Not all clouds block the sun, Some clouds make silhouettes for fun. Not everyday does the moon shine bright, It can't spend all its time in spotlight Not all promises are kept, Definitely not all secrets are level and kempt, They tend to get woven into  Nasty little rumours. Not all rocks are the same shape They can be flat, chipped and weird-shaped, But all rocks have their place on earth. Not all waterbodies are still, There are always miniscule ripples Not always is everything the same  In the ever changing world that cannot be paused.

  A beautiful banana I'd saved for after lunch, With its pretty, vivid yellow hue, But now I find the banana's gone, And to replace it, a great blob of goo. With an aroma that reminds me of nothing but garbage That has not been taken out for a few days  My, did the odour make me gag, And my brain said the banana's day wasn't today. I decided to peel open the mushy, black blob To see if the inside is purer than the out But how very wrong I was, the inside was blacker, Than all black created by a single pout. And then I realised a fuzzy white growth  Repulsive mold growing on its outer cover  And the banana squished further and became banana mush  And that only made me want to belch further. With innumerable banana bugs annoying the decayed figure, I decided to spare the once gorgeous banana from trash But I thought to myself, "Is it good for the banana?" And the answer sped to my mind in a flash. The banana would rather help in composting  Rather than rottin...

The brick wall outside my balcony  With as many rifts as you can see With lumps of disparity, no grace displayed, The wall stands still, faded and frayed. The blue painted bright, once lively and pretty, Now a dull shade, waning away with pity, Blocking the sun's light off, making us feel duller, Can the brick wall become any gloomier? With no windows, a forlorn, paralyzed standstill, And I've no time to watch the wall so still, Never do we take a second to gawk At the motionless wall, its feet well locked. It looks like it would love company  Not that its neighbours are many, Apart from similiar balconies, And windows as stationary. But someday, the wall would have to go Would have to be broken down not so slow But only so that another wonderful wall Would replace the fallen one, sturdy and tall.