If you eyes can see, they can shroud them too.

My Heart Throbs

With no sweet ending,
and you start again
It's homecoming of a new dawn, 
where you love the sunrise and wait 
for the dusk to bury the ember like sun 
to the depth of the blue sea.

Yet in between, your rib cages
wrinkle your heart deep into the champers
and you palpitate, but none else 
to hear the beat of the heart sounding tender 
And yet again, you long for a companion along 
who can listen to the rhythm of your heart.

Yes, love always buds in the heart
It blooms and flowers there itself 
And finally it's buried there again
Knowing the joy and tear, 
the heart got to hear, 
as it's how life is defined simply.

When I die, my heart wouldn't stop first
How can it while it throbs for the 
heaven I been promised, and the hell 
I been gifted with
Yet, would my heart throb
And yet would my heart throb.

© Parvathy Ramachandran


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Can something be Constant?

Can something be Constant? Nothing can be, not even you  can consistently be constant  to a person, a place or a thing. And we bring the changes  we bring the consistent changes  and embrace them  as it let's the unbound Liberty  to shift from a person to another  a place to another place  and a thing instead of another, of all  which you were so fond of at one time. © Parvathy Ramachandran 
Read more

Yes, it's a fine age. She is in her 40's.

Image
Her 40's I have known many times- my heart stopping the beat I have known many times- my heart beating much more it needs still I keep searching for, when I ever know it couldn't be found  it couldn't be found here and there it couldn't be found now and then  it couldn't be found  in no one else  than to me… Yet the search  is one fine beautiful journey that thrills and kills. I am a woman in the 40's And I ought to go through pain  and pleasure  The pleasure of postpartum, eased the pain of all tougher journeys  yet to handle  And if I couldn't, who can  and no woman can The pain can't just kill it thrills instead, as if you race a car  and run a machine  the machine only a woman  can handle in all thrill and she deals with the  throb of a heart  and listens to the cries of  postpartum, where she  discovers a new mother a new woman  a phenomenal new woman  and the phenomenally old...
Read more

I still retain my eight letter name. I know a day when You and I got to leave I have to finely decorate the space in all extravaganza.

Image
My Eight Letter Name Clement was his name,  till sometime back. But now he is known as Ment! Who, why, when or whom- was it shortened? Nothing easy would leave it's mark, And I assume Ment too wouldn't. The sweet notes we exchanged,  never persuaded him for that. For I always loved my Clement, Exactly the way he was. And I never wanted him to alter himself even though fate accepeted him as Ment. But, soon I realized he too wanted to live  in a world that was easy, much easy. But I couldn't dare to find out the reasons Why easiness struck him too? Still I found the world turning yellow  Slowly, slowly and my desires died along. And many including my Clement, shortened their names. But I retained my eight letter name,  To be finely engraved on my grave  A day when you and I leave. Yet a day you and I should. © Parvathy Ramachandran
Read more