The Keeper of Secrets

poetry

The keeper of secrets,
that’s what the seven realms called her
The quiet one,
Named the ‘wise old’ pedagogues
Guardian of messages,
Hermes called her
Holder of confidentiality,
named the whistle-blowers
A brain-teaser,
the ill-witted boys called her
A paradox,
to her own birth-givers
A question mark,
to her associates
A confidante,
To her bestest of friends
A ruse,
for the faint of heart
A muse,
for that adventurous one
A whimsical puzzle that went unsolved,
for a past fling,
A head-scratcher,
for the one who befriend her
A dusty, closed book,
she is
Opened on a blue moon,
with a key of an equal mind
The secret,
for her secret,
therefore,
will forever be a,
secret
Only to be,
unlocked,
by a sage,
a savant,
a soul,
a lover,
like her

A Sad Story

poetry

She is enchanted by words,
and soft rhythms,
good conversations
and the darkness
He is the darkness,
enchanted by her words,
and a master,
of passionate conversations
She fell for the darkness,
more and more,
Tis’ a bewitchment,
or could it be a Karmic law?
She didn’t know much about the darkness,
It was all too new for her,
But it made her feel safe,
So she yearned for the new darkness
She was all too familiar being in the dark.
Opening up was not her forte,
yet she dreamed like a maniac,
for this darkness to unbosom her
Maybe it was a mind game,
or a game that not both understood,
or the fear of the unknown, or their ego,
which made her admire the darkness from only afar
She was charmed by the darkness,
no doubt in it
she adored his wit,
no doubt in it
she loved his conversations,
it was a warm soup for her soul,
And so she found light in the darkness
The enchantress of words,
they called her,
yet at the face of darkness,
she is at a loss of words,
dumbstruck,
dazed,
tongue-tied,
and a complete fool
So she goes on to,
write,
scribble,
record,
compose,
and share her feelings,
hoping the darkness would feast,
and yet again,
hoping he wouldn’t.
Hoping the darkness would,
light up her world,
with his whimsical thoughts,
passionate arguments,
and visionary conversations,
as trivial may it seem.
Only the stars above,
know how much,
she is craving for it,
praying for him to,
open his eyes,
Alas,
Sadly, the darkness,
is blind.

Her new muse – part 2

poetry

With a mind so grandeur,
Nobody expects him to settle for any lesser,
yet so eager,
to believe the other side has grass which is always greener.
A man of mystery,
with a sleeve full of trickery,
oh! but would not I voluntarily,
get caught up in his sorcery.
If words are his foreplay,
I would gladly be his roleplay,
Take him far away,
and make his mind blow away.

Her new muse – part 1

poetry

He was a drifter,
an outcast,
a hedonist,
They called him a “thrill-seeker”
He was a player,
an idler,
an unsettler,
but they called him the “most eligible bachelor”
An out of the norm thinker,
With a knack to attract things stranger,
has a wild flavour,
to make even the strongest hearts surrender.
With a heart so deep,
a lovable new dreamer,
always in the search of the perfect new lover,
but ends up falling for another.