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Best Poems Written by Priya Yanambaka

Below are the all-time best Priya Yanambaka poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Topography of Your Body

Like solving the mystery of a stranger,
The topography of your body unwinds,
Letting me outline your smooth hands,
Reflecting an endless journey of  lies,
Carried by the curve of your shoulders,
That stops me to plunge deep inside,
Your heart beats resting, 
Breathing and believing,
In my passion, so tender,
Filled with devotion  and surrender,
Will calm down the ocean in your eyes,
Changing the game like an urban spy,
You  tiptoe with smooth innocence,
Unlocking doors to my every defense,
And lead me to the   planet of sensuality,
With the topography of your body.

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Winter Comes Again

The snow melts away like it never belonged here,
Although I kept caressing her like a child,
She said she wanted to finish her vengeance,
On the other side of the wild,
Not long ago had she promised to never come back,
To the island of rogation,
Of imagination,
Of isolation,
Where they had destroyed every particle of the white,
That was never a threat, but a promise of the knight,
To protect the lands that stretched beyond the boundaries,
From the rulers of the dead who walked free,
From the signals of the civilized thieves,
Who only stole from the poor and poverty,
But, justice was waiting to perform,
On the minds of the deceitful wise,
With swords made of snow,
And words that cut like ice,
Making them wonder if winter had truly disappeared,
Or was simply beginning to uncover her beautiful fear.

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39 of the Mid 60s'

Opposite poles drifting apart,
Trying hard to defend separation,
Opposite poles, playing cards,
Losing the game of kings and bows.
When all they did was wait to paint the streets brown, 
She sat there singing the song of rains and the clown, 
That would come and go like the winter bills,
Swinging and tingling as the wind blew whistles,
Reminding her of the end for her son to begin,
On a new road of pebbles and shoes,
Where he would buy and trade all the conscience within,
To build a town of the glass and blues,
Lying dreamily on the table in downtown,
Singing the song of the rains and the clown,
That played cards and drifted apart in rows,
Losing the game of kings and bows.

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Impressions

Waiting in a dark room for your love,
I scribble your promises on my hand,
Breathing and dying like a trapped bird,
I fight with time again and again,
Will you let me  write your story,
Will you let me bury my soul,
That screams your name on deaf ears,
And paints love for the blindfolds,
Will you let me write my story,
Will you let me bury your soul,
That crawls at my feet and cries,
To allow forgiveness to unfold,
In the dark room,
Where my impressions  are incomplete,
And love will never repeat

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The Cry

Children playing, teachers screaming,
Breaking pencils, paper boats flying, 
Splashing dreams on the wall,
That makes me glow, so slow,
Why did you let me go.

Wandering at midnight,
Screaming at  shadows standing quite,
Ranging from the lovers fight,
I stop to touch your sweet expressions,
That makes me glow, so slow,
Why did you let me go.

Never mind the disguise,
 Teasing the wise man’s lie, 
And the unborn’s cry,
That echoes in the sky below,
Why won’t you let me go.

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Capella

Capella, don’t shine so bright,
Capella Capella,
You can't deny, 
Your mistake of creating a confusion, 
Stirring in my head filled with illusion,
Of hopes and wishes, 
It seems like a ray of light,
Capella, don’t make me smile,
Capella Capella, 
Please don’t cry,
For the unseen that lost a conflict,
Called as life,
Full of land and treasures, 
That is busy shooting the sky,
Capella give me the love I can’t buy,
Capella Capella,
You can't deny the sweet cry of life, 
Yawning and sleeping through the night.

Details | Priya Yanambaka Poem

Symphony In Disharmony

Closed doors standing alone, 
Waited for their hearts to open,
To fear endless nights and believe the sinking sun,
Black and white faded over the ages,
Yet failed to capture color in flying pages,
When the numbers were busy and women danced hastily,
Every star cried in despair and vanished happily,
Into the smoke of forbidden shame,
With carvings and buried cravings, left to blame,
The stolen myth of a winter-cursed kingdom,
Where far away stood the tree of forgotten wisdom,
Blowing petals towards the symbols of innocence,
Remembering the growing depth and difference,
Between stories that echoed and lasted only once,
Closed doors standing alone,
Waited for their hearts to open,
To fear endless nights and believe the sinking sun.
It lay there still and silent,
Waiting for its audience to settle down,
Waiting for the shivering lines to straighten,
Within the boundaries of the floor,
To narrate a story
Of their fame, turning into gold,
Just like nights covered by spells and charms,
That last until digital breaths fade away into beeping alarms.
It lay there swirled and curled,
With tears waiting to sleep,
Embracing freedom blazing,
A crumpled tissue,
Sweeping the footprints he left behind,
And fall on the morning dew.

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Overlapped

Hues overlapped the seasons of smiles,
When you walked away, 
Clouding minds with denial, 
Swinging hearts with a sway,
Searching for lands and deserts so far,
To assemble mountains and lakes,
And make her forget the scar.

Details | Priya Yanambaka Poem

Wooden Beats of Purity

Revealing  the shadows-
Crafted by children of the sky,
Marvelously made,
With their tiny hands,
Anxious minds,
Delicate hearts – graceful and divine,
Holding speculation of decrypted letters ,
Imitating the time of childhood answers,
So blur,
Yet, all are mine,
Just mine.

Scarce beats of purity that ring,
Are now guiding the lines of curiosity that brings
Folded destiny,
Folded theories,
To unfold the  mysteries of the forests kept beneath the territory. 


So, Close  your eyes
Meditate slow
And closing your eyes,
Remember the bows,
 The arrows we used to fight with joy,
For pride,
You shall hold my hand through all of the storms,
To finally unwrap the shadows, 
That moved  swiftly through the desert,
And landed in the snow, 
Resting on the floor,
Gliding on the shore,
To unite with the children of the sky,
And imitate the childhood answers ,
Like delicate minds,
Anxious hearts- graceful and divine,
A sheer bliss
For life to be reborn with a plain blink and a kiss,
Meant to be mine,
Just mine.

- Priya Yanambaka

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Celestial Petals

The most radiant beauty
Neatly set along a celestial shine,
Slowly touches the sublime bond of representation,
Magnified in-between
The dark and light.
An illumination –maybe,
An illustration-could be,
That will be sketched on paper,
For eternity,
Such illumination- necessary,
Such illustration-of modesty,
Must be etched in our minds,
For an example is being recognized,
By being festooned with hued petals – 
Few sprinkled on the floors, 
Few attached to  the doors.
For an epic epitome is being orchestrated,
Like aquatic waves,
On their minds,
Don’t rewind,
Don’t rewind,
Murmured the tender hearts of the young,
The young- who gathered to witness,
To cherish,
Such luxurious and prosperous,
Solidarity and fellowship,
Of dusk and dawn,
That shall be sung by every soul,
Willing to bloom through each phase of celestial shine,
Don’t rewind,
Don’t rewind,
Murmured the tender hearts of the young,  
Gathered to witness
The sun and the moon
Being very rhythmically harmonized.