Category Archives: Poetry

fiction and poetry, Poetry, Writings

The Kid

2014 © Christopher Martin

2014 © Christopher Martin

A Blizzard,
where winds howl,
like a direwolf,
missing his master,
where light is consumed,
even in the layers of white,
no living seen out,
no dead can be seen,
only sheer darkness,
ruling in the cold.
a boy cries strolling,
in the snow,
they say he was lost,
a few years ago,
his cries are not of pain,
but a whimsical laughter,
to bring out the living,
and play in snow,
those who go,
never come back,
but their cries are heard,
like the howlings,
every same day,
the child got lost.

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articeles, fiction and poetry, Poetry, Writings

It’s easy

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It’s easy to float dead,
in a pool of mistakes,
to float till the bottom,
to be choked by,
filth of one actions,
than to,
to swim to the brim,
wash the mistakes,
with water of repentance,
this mucky pool,
that has drown you so long,
in a suffocating trip to the bottom,
to come out,
is not easy,
but it’s worth it.

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attempt, childhood, Freehand Writing, Heart, kids, Memories, Poems, Poetry, Prose

Paper-Boat

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Sitting in a coffee shop,
with a beautiful book to read,
seeing the raindrops falling,
all over the leaves,

through the fogged mirror,
something catches my attention,
a little girl rushes in the rain,
with such utter excitement,

she sits at the pavements,
and sails the paper boat,
that glides over the rain tide,
with no one aboard,

the girl sees the boat,
till it’s out of sight,
sighed a beautiful prayer,
with all faith in her might,

and I sit and wonder,
where did we fall apart?,
turning the pages of books,
is that what we really are?

she saw me sitting inside,
signaled me to join,
I learned the paper-boat again,
indeed it sailed pretty fine.

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Death, Freehand Writing, Imagine, Life, Love, Poetry, Prose

He would be back

broken frame,
glass on the floor,
a letter unopened,
tears echoed,
for someone,
who said he would be back,
to read the night stories,
to play the games,
to take all camp side,
one sunny day,
But that day he became,
part of earth,
with clouds of tears,
thunders of disgust,
they all ask how it happened,
she now says proudly,
killed in action.

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Life, Love, Memories, Poems, Poetry, poetry, Prose, Random thoughts, Shadow, Uncategorized, Writings

Darkness

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I have seen the bright,
I have seen the glories,
they all tell me a lovely story,
how easy it is to see the light
even in the darkest times,
but not the darkness even in the brightest,
enough of your love,
I had till now,
show me your darkness,
show me your wounds,
show me the pain,
show me the worry,
I will kiss them away without any hurry.
and tell you something again and again,
that  your darkness in heart will never go in vain.

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Imagine, india, Life, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Stories, Writings

Moonlight

In the dim glow of moonlight,
darkness craving for its might,
The lake adorns a silvery sight,
love is bursting for its right,

fog spreads like a flood from no where
timid hearts are beating in space somewhere,
with candles that glow and melt every night,
familiar bodies embrace tonight.

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attempt, Death, Freehand Writing, Imagine, Life, Poems, Poetry, Random thoughts, Uncategorized, Writings

Voice Seeking Heaven.

Euthanasia or Mercy Killing is a highly debated issue,with people willing to die because they can't bear the excruciating sad life with no hopes left for better tomorrow.

Between the battles of life,
and triumphs of battles,
layed a voice so idle,
with no strength left,
no hopes for a miracle,
eyes wander as far as it can,
with bafflement unbearable,
armchair carries the body,
but soul refuses to stay,
in the confinement,
that is at rest since ages,
the purpose has been lost ,
and the hope is decaying,
it seems the bird flew close to the sun,
and got a great burning,

everyday the eyes try to see the stars,
wants to find the faults,
that made all stop,
eyes still,
looks for the star,
that is the destined one,
where the soul would rest,
once free,
not all souls seek an early heaven,
not all want to be free soon,
it is the scars that one can’t live with,
that makes destiny rot into memories,
death is not a fear now,
but a friend embracing arms,
that would let voice seek heaven,
and questions unanswered.

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