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Shraddha Tripathi Poem
Atonement of those words that left from your mouth,
Which broke my heart beyond any bound.
Those gut-wrenching actions that I have seen from your eyes,
Are more painful than your lies.
That love you claimed was never mine,
For you, I have always been a rotten wine,
Sour and sharp, not so divine.
The moment that we had feels like a sham now,
Your presence now is my broken vow.
The gate has been closed, there is no way to trespass,
The love that I had is devastated, perhaps.
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2022
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Shraddha Tripathi Poem
Just woke up from the dream.
Where we are swinging through life,
While you are fixing the lights,
While I am watching the delights,
Trying my best not to jinx my perfect life.
Not the white picket fence one,
But the one with your silly smile,
The one with my crooked front teeth which makes you laugh,
The one with our silly imperfections does the job.
Where you are cooking my favourite meal,
While reminding me about doing dishes is my deal,
Melting me with the smile of yours whenever I am losing my cool,
Acting like your last mistake if I believe I will be a fool.
Your petty acts and love for some local bands,
The way you get excited over someone else's match,
The way you cry over some sappy romance,
Always boasting about the action movies you like.
The evening stroll with your humorous talks,
The echo of my laugh is paving the walk,
You answer my random question like it's the only thing you do in life,
You cut my sour mood with your bad jokes knife.
The best part of our fight is the time when you apologize,
Always the one, so wise.
In a room full of chatty people you are the one who speaks through their eyes,
On the worst day your arms feel like my only paradise,
The blaring alarm is the cold reality like rock hard ice,
Shivering at the those thoughts where you were just a dream to survive,
Maybe at another time, maybe at another life,
Maybe in another rhyme.
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2023
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Shraddha Tripathi Poem
There was a knock on my door,
It made my heart thumbing indoor,
Chappy lips and sweaty hands along my heart so sore.
On the third knock my heartbeat skyrocketed.
Panic was banging all over my body,
Distant noise of people at a party,
The sound of brewing coffee from the lobby,
These chosen sounds were also been heard instead of that constant knocking.
On the fifth knock some courage is grown,
Back in my room there is continuously ringing phone,
Don't know which one to respond or which one to mourn.
On the rigorous knock I decided to go,
See once for all and stop this confusing show,
With my clumpy throat and cautious steps,
I reached the door,
To see what there in store.
The swing of the door was so sudden,
When it felt like someone was there to summon.
There stood my fears and heartbreaks,
There stood my tears and anxiety like an abandoned snake.
They looked so happy like they had raise in stakes.
Inviting them in has its own privilege.
They are under my mercy, and it's my own stage.
Time to rip off that so-called bandage,
Those forge wounds of image and language.
The door is now dismantled,
It is now all trampled.
On the ground of my confused thoughts,
On the ground of my scarred heart,
On the ground of those baseless remarks,
That once knocking door is now a dust and decay.
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2023
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Shraddha Tripathi Poem
Glorious world with sacrilegious act.
Untamed people with staled facts.
Courageous ones are dismantled for instance,
Fictional ones are too fiction to rant.
Vigorous thoughts following with stance.
Humorous ones are hard to track.
Smart ones are too much for a glance.
Cynical ones, they never last.
Forecasting weather with a chance.
Hoping for a future with an incapability to adapt.
Drafting dreams while breaking pacts.
Hard-earned life is always up for the chat.
This world is a nuisance to be exact.
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2022
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Shraddha Tripathi Poem
The calmness of my head,
Is gut-wrenching, instead.
These vicious lights around,
Are making my heart pound.
Those blazing speaker is happiness for seeker,
But their happiness is making me weaker.
Those crickets screaming around,
Telling the story which was never told aloud.
The bustling streets and car's screech,
Predicting the story which is meant to preach.
Those gleaming households, filled with love and laughs,
Are an example that this too shall pass.
This city sky filled with sad smoke,
And people on the street roaming around broke.
It is tough,
It is hard,
Sometimes it pricks like a glass shard.
But that is the beauty of this task,
Sadness is always kept under the mask,
And too much happiness is overrated if you would ask!
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2022
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Shraddha Tripathi Poem
Is it worth fighting?
Is it worth biting?
Every word they say, is it worth rebutting?
Is it worth living a life which only seems riveting?
Is it worth putting a smile without willing?
Is it worth sacrificing your life for their beginning?
Is it worth standing on the shore alone, contemplating?
Those waves crashing on your feet revolting,
The wind blowing through your hair reversing,
Those happy moments you wish you've had, is it worth complaining?
Is it worth putting their choices first and yours limiting?
Is it worth having a life which you'll never know you'll be living?
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2022
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Shraddha Tripathi Poem
Meeting people is so easy now,
A simple hi, hello makes a relationship somehow,
Some emoticons are our emotions now,
A birthday post is better than an appreciation toast now,
The letter to loved ones are so last season,
A text on the anniversary is a convenience love,
To express feelings there are no poems,
No paragraphs,
No heart touching words,
I love you forever is now so easily said,
And gets forgotten within the day ends,
The affection and care is just for the display,
But in between there is a broken today,
Here you are making promises and kissing goodnight,
Then who are you texting in the midnight,
Trust is now such a delicate thread,
Can't hold it or neither can let it break,
Meeting people was always a good thing,
Until you forget the real deal you meet the dead end.
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2023
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Shraddha Tripathi Poem
That kind of love,
With a single glance, declaration like dove,
The love where no ego was above,
And no feelings were shoved.
Whereas this world is running on a treadmill,
And laughing only after a pill.
Where there was no situation-ship going around,
No lives were attached on confused ground,
Now the love is always on the section of lost and found,
Where no one is visiting and reporting it aloud,
Rather settling for another forgetting their own sound.
That kind of love,
It is nowhere to be found,
Lying in the books safe and sound.
That kind of love,
Is what we'll never find,
Unless we open our now found blinds,
Or is it now redesigned?
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2022
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Shraddha Tripathi Poem
Was it too much to ask?
Was to love me was such a task,
Was that kind face was all a mask.
Thought you were like a fine wine,
But all you had was a broken spine,
All you always did was blabber and whine,
Was it too much to ask?
You're all those smart talks and borderline charm,
Made me disarm,
It did you no harm,
But for life now I am always alarm,
Was it too much to ask?
Broke the glass and shredded it apart,
Called the heartbreak a conventional art,
Which wasn't yours to dart, my petty heart,
Checked it off from your glorious chart,
Was it too much to ask?
You called my feelings just a phase,
Maybe all you wanted was their praise,
Not holding it against you when for you, it was a built-up craze,
Thought you were a golden ray but all you were an abandoned hay,
Wasted the thought throughout because you weren't worth they say,
Was it too much to ask?
I think we weren't meant to be from the start,
We were always destined to be apart,
Our paths was a lesson which was always laying in our cart,
Honestly it wasn't too much if you would ask.
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2022
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Shraddha Tripathi Poem
The weather around is quite cold sometimes,
The glorious plants are now a frozen sight.
The always angry sea is locked in a frigid bite,
The beautiful sky is now grey, black and white.
The sound of happiness is now pitch silence and cries,
The oh so twinkling stars are now a sight for the sore eyes.
The crackling laughter now comes in a disguise,
Once wise thoughts are now depressing lines,
This always romanticized cold is now my dreadful state of mind.
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2022
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