Details |
Niyomi Shah Poem
I can feel my blood,
Gushing through my veins,
I have two beating hearts,
One to lose and one that pounds,
At the door of my skin,
A caged vulture in the jungle of my ribs,
For it wants to be lost,
With a jar of ashes addressed to the ones I love.
I can feel its emulsion in my blood,
A pellet of germanium in an abyss of red,The burst of colour in my wrist reminds me of death,
And how the roles reverse in circumstance,
A blush of pink on my eyelid,
A blush of pink on the periphery of my jaw,
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive
Guess I’ll play a song, I’ve heard before.
But it beckons me so,
The thin films of glass against my wrist,
Cold fingers running over jagged edges,
And I sip clean, every blunder I make,
Guess I’ll kiss my wrists pale again,
I see the crevices of my mind unfold,
I can see a face, a body to hold,
I choke on blunders, I choke alone.
My wardrobe has skeletons with sardonic smiles,
There’s crosses on the glass beneath my feet,
There’s crosses in my throat,
I’m running down the nape of my bones,
And like the phoenix once arose,
I’ll hear my voice at the bells when the church door swings,
My consciousness is an ocean, my awarness is a wave,
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive
Copyright © Niyomi Shah | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Niyomi Shah Poem
He sits on the tulip as the petals close,
drenched in red, soaked,
a bruise on his neck, whips pound his chest,
and they say he died of overdose.
men avert from his death, women hide,
sums of money were paid,made to confide,
clouds tear up as they look from above,
he who cradles between life and death, forever gone now.
But nothing else matters,
sympathetic sighs rise from the crowds,
but laughter arose at the back when he choked,
the oppressor grinned with every law he broke,
the god of death who once wept for his child,
now smirks at humanity's penchant for genocide,
they say casteism is gone,they say apartheid is dead,
they say a lot, yet a black man lies on his eternal bed,
and they say he was frightened to death.
(Image-5)
(Cliche-frightened to death)
(Song-nothing else matters)
(Date-28th April,2016)
Copyright © Niyomi Shah | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Niyomi Shah Poem
bloods curdle into sour pastes,
touches reek of bitter tastes,
an unethical monster,
a lustful devil,
an insult to society.
a burning heart and soul laced,
two lips and her happiness blazed,
but what about her?
she who walks home to hell,
a torn body without any gauge.
the risk of love and lost morality,
dreams of drowned reality,
she who slits her wrists,
she who kills her lust,
she who stabs the beast and yet returns.
a tigress undercover now revealed,
the brutalist under her soft frame, unveiled,
confined in her lonely cage,
the nefarious angel-devil,
now forlorn, now forever gone.
Copyright © Niyomi Shah | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Niyomi Shah Poem
White waves that crash upon the shore,
An aestheric sunset,amber and raw,
Dusky sands peppered with the ash of bones,
A vigour of blue,leaves every heart wanting more,
Stroking her beautiful cheeks,he saw,
In the depth of her eyes ,a place forlorn,
Her golden eyelashes covered her brown core.
A beastly wind,the drastic thunder,
the pour of rain,feeds the pitiless storm,
The sky,a greasy course tarnished with white,
Souls flash in the rain, immoral blunder,
Their eyes shine with sin in bloody forms,
Lips that tearfully wronged the right,
As reckless as thunder,a handsome blunder.
The serenity of the chirps,
Serenading birds on the peak of the branch,
The beautiful monsters of nature,
Just like the soul in her eyes,they rise up,
To him she's beauty in an avalanche,
A beast without a nomenclature,
A spirit in her charm,disturbed.
The beauty of drops of dew on the grass,
Energies of gushing waterfalls,
Or mere ripples that grace the stillness,
She was a breeze that wore off the brass,
A dreadful reality,to him calls,
Like a painful,incurable illness,
He learns that his apparition won't last.
Copyright © Niyomi Shah | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Niyomi Shah Poem
I fail to sleep,
I fail at nothing at all,
yet, today I fail to sleep,
for the clouds pour, with echoing thunder,
upon my room,
a room with no walls.
A smell of delusion lurks in the air,
and makes its way through my roof,
the clock is ticking,
I beg it to stop, but it ticks,
and that's how time moves,
Inconsiderate, unfeeling, obstinate.
Time now slips off my hand,
and I curse the rain,
but the tears blend so beautifully,
as the rain courses down my eyes,
rests upon my skin,
and like time, slips by.
some invite sunshine,
and dance in its glee,
yellow frocks, cups of tea,
and a loving hand to hold,
but what if the rain is all I can call?
will this be only imaginable to me?
So I bathe,
hoping to wash my sins,
but the rain peppers my agony,
like a chef,
so intricate of his spice,
yet,pains his make beneath.
But you held out your hand,
and the dust crumbled away,
my blood learned how to breath,
you held my hand, but my fingers slid,
unwillingly, unwittingly,
and I cursed the rain again.
My soul dances,
dances so you'd turn,
but I stand where I am,
I beg my limbs to move,
so they grace the soul inside,
they don't,
I beg my arms to stretch,
so you'd come running back,
they don't,
and now the abyss calls out your name,
I plead my skin to tear apart,
so you can see the flames inside me,
my surreal heart.
But here I am,
frothing at my lungs,
in a pool of blood that flows to your accord,
your skin in my arms,
and you gone,
your breath begins to leave my mouth.
And I'm rendered,
left with an anecdote,
and my scarlet hands, wear the blood of my hope.
Copyright © Niyomi Shah | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Niyomi Shah Poem
still, motionless in your cage,
your lips ruby, your skin beige,
the breeze sings to your body so pale,
and lifts you up as into the sky you sail,
broken crayons still color and broken hearts love,
saw a million faces each day but you were a blessing from above,
people walk past with only regret to show,
but for you, angels fly and storms blow,
your body molders with every day,
the pallor burns on your coffin of hay,
captured the memories of the words you said,
and they now blossom in purple and red.
Copyright © Niyomi Shah | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Niyomi Shah Poem
bloodshot, weary eyes,
burning as though they were thine,
blood rises quietly still,
the poison flows as though it kills.
in a moment a change or not,
an eternal reality that was lost ,
comes back in the shape of a spear,
comes back in the shape of a tear.
a perpetual drought , now parched,
a heart once straight, now arched,
when you get the freedom you want,
but realize that your love is lost.
Copyright © Niyomi Shah | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Niyomi Shah Poem
the tears of futility rain,
on her beautiful stained frame,
color crimson runs the lines,
of the paths etched into her mind,
but it cant hurt, say those who care?
the relentless laws of pain do not spare,
a lot respect, a lost pride,
The tears that she denied
fear, ambition and passion drove,
a lust of work to a lust of love,
droplets from her eyes course down,
alas the queen abdicated her crown.
Copyright © Niyomi Shah | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Niyomi Shah Poem
She sat on the side of her bed,
A bloodied whip,the scars on her neck,
Still a perfect crimson,still a beautiful red,
Droplets of water moiston her lips,
A serene fury ignited by a salty taste.
She who curses humanity under her breath,
A burning wick upon the sand,
She,the one sho deserves death,
For being one of a kind,
And outcast to society.
In the midst of her mess,
She who finds pleasu
re in a picture,
But of a beauty nonetheless,
For shes one of her kind,
A liar and a threat
Stoned,trampled,wounded to be bandaged again,
A danger, for her canvas is burnt,
A meek mouse with a lion's mane,
Stands up for her rights,
Stands up to be caned.
She's the beautiful beast,
Every girls fantasy queen,
The one who loved a woman, truly atleast,
She was one of her kind,
A mark in history,a goddess in her shrine.
Copyright © Niyomi Shah | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Niyomi Shah Poem
Fetishes,senses and derangement calls,
Sedatives crushed into the hold,
A trance of tragedy, regaining conciousness,
Abreast on fantasy, stranded on hope.
Derailing conclusions often up shut,
Just another goddess, worshipped in not a castle nor hut,
A deranged perspective, too joyful to be true,
For she ,closer to happiness ,has faced twice the rue.
her eyes red, her clothes torn,Sensations on her lips bloom,
Ashes on her neck,ashes on her chest,
Squirming in delight as the wounds undress
Vigour and joy turn to gloom,Her face scarred, her mind numb,
Behold she is a child still sucking on her thumb.
Copyright © Niyomi Shah | Year Posted 2016
|