Poem 343 : Collapsed Gut

Collapsed Gut

                          - T ABRAHAM

(SOURCE: AI GENERATED IMAGE)

Silky smooth and soft lining,

Tunneled within life shining,

The hunger war and roaring,

Delicious delicacies craving,

To be let inside this beauty,

Soft spongy comfort within,

Chomped and chopped well,

If not done will start to swell,

White axes sharpened well,

Opening amidst the fatigue,

About hunger battle to tell,

Very crunchy, salty and sweet,

But soon will start to bleed,

Empty spaces with delicacy,

So delicate and opening out,

Torn apart and crushed today,

Same goes on every other day,

The time has come this day,

A striking pain pinning around,

Stumps and pins pocking the ground,

A continuous rupture and rapture,

Until it gets collapsed all over,

Need to start once the passover,

Bleeding wounds and sickness,

Due to unhealthy brave boldness,

Never to be done again to collapse,

The day it stops one can relax.

Poem 342 : Crackling Out

Crackling Out 

                               - T ABRAHAM

(SOURCE: AI GENERATED IMAGE)

Being harboured by burden,

Plain, white and hardened,

Thick shell holding a life,

Boiling within to move out,

Warmth and wonder in play,

But cycling amidst each day,

A sunshine of smiles and joy,

Waiting dormantly till this day,

Holding within itself strongly,

Breaking the shell suddenly,

From the plaintiff shell of moon,

Rising out the chirping beauty,

From roostering loud alarms,

Raising a soft chirrup with a breeze,

The joy spreads through the air,

Amidst the soft and gentle trees,

Where there is no more wait,

Broken shells and beauty birds,

Yellowing brightness still rising,

Happiness with the new births,

Joyously within burning hearths.

Poem 341 : Wick Licking Fire

Wick Licking Fire

                           - T ABRAHAM

(SOURCE: AI GENERATED IMAGE)

A slippery soaking liquid,

Tiny and tentaculated squid,

Pottery only being half done,

Here starts the unending fun,

Broken pots and open lids,

Heavy and soapy thickness,

Pouring it inside but never out,

To avoid slipping with no doubt,

Threads winding and dripping,

Each kept inside for a dipping,

Juicy and soapy oil filling,

Tummies of these thin wicks,

White turning into a dull sick,

Fierce burning anger to joy,

But burning fire is not a toy,

Fire swallowing and gulping,

A delicious delicacy been charred,

While the majesty is being chaired,

Mighty sun and the hot fire,

Lazy wicks being worn out,

Been worn out of unbearable desire,

Fire keeps on flaming higher,

Teeth and tongue made stronger,

Never seen a power, so mightier,

White wick to grey-black sick,

Finally some weak powdered stick.

Poem 340 : Cleared Spaces

 Cleared Spaces

                                - T ABRAHAM

(SOURCE: AI GENERATED IMAGE)

Heads and hands in movements,

Busy, rush and happy moments,

Where the audio played in duo,

Written and agreed for months,

Promised for years to someone,

Movements of rush overtaking,

When merriment starts draining,

Joyous days feels to be gloomy,

An unexpected misfortune spins,

Spells which left unremembered,

Being remembered again for claim,

But instantly it does turns to blame,

Where the happiness saddens away,

Lights flashing and almost dead,

Deep down within it does reside,

When the loop starts to sweep,

A plague moving into psyche,

From one to another rushing out,

Finally a fingered number remains,

A fractured happiness still broken,

Until it cleanses out everything,

Fresh start required unconditionally,

When the home accepts its owner,

The one last chance to prove,

About the joy and happiness,

Both can provide to each other.

Poem 339 : Blooming Beauty

Blooming Beauty 

                                - T ABRAHAM

(SOURCE: AI GENERATED IMAGE)

When the miraculous fountain,

Filled by the rivers of mountain,

An energising blooming power,

Which sustains like strong cover,

The seed breaks apart to open,

A new life being created joyously,

Accompanied by the creator,

Providing shade as a protector,

Growing and glowing like gold,

But with a caressing gentleness,

The seed breaketh into a plant,

It does groweth with briskness,

But never fadeth not, mother tree!

A cry heard from the blossoms,

When the life's journey starts,

The end begins to follow it,

But the caressing love stays,

It stays forever with the blossoms,

Whose heart is fixated upon love,

The unchanging and immortal love.

Poem 338 : Passive Passion

 Passive Passion

                             - T ABRAHAM

(SOURCE: AI GENERATED IMAGE)

A single strand taken in hand,

Each day picking up a band,

When a strand becomes a band,

Many arms and fingers holding,

Strands are holding and folding,

Monochromatic artist created,

Colours in the palette of psyche,

Each making a lock and key,

Colours turned to paint words,

Words becoming a bouquet,

Beauty gently beating about,

Felt little murmurs and shouts,

First tangled into unruly bands,

Day by day it becomes a beauty,

Churned butter becoming soft,

Letters turning words to draft,

The days have gone so far,

Till it resides as a sweet passion,

As the heavy duty still succeeds.

Poem 337 : Stringed Dreams

 Stringed Dreams

                              - T ABRAHAM

(SOURCE: AI GENERATED IMAGE)

The loving nature turned down,

Unkempt and stubborn pleasure,

Made from firm bricks and stones,

Unbending and unyielding bones,

Filtering out dull and dark clones,

A deep despair covers the surface,

Damp coldness around the fireplace,

The flames unable to fight back,

An unfelt ignition draining back,

Hotness and warmth being lagged,

Murmur of gloom and sadness felt,

Highly passive and possessive attacks,

Which tip toes and comes to drag,

Bending and breaking the strings,

Tunes and tones wavering within,

None being felt or heard outright.