Lonely Storm Cloud

LonelyStormCloud

Gathering mist
Airy puffs of nothing
Crystals of water
Hanging midair
Like memories frozen
By the cold slap of time

Heavy with water
And despair,
Dripping with desperation
Clouds drift by
Smudging the mascara
Of a haughty sky

It blocks all light
Leaving a trail of
Carnage in its wake
Its beating heart is
Faint but Firm
Lethargic but Lasting

Let it go
It screams
Let it all go
I try to tell myself
But the water cycle
Never does stop, does it?

I kept it succinct this time; estimated writing time: 4 minutes. Enjoy!

Happy Reading,
Shouryaman Saha

***Image: Thunderclap Callincos

Poetry: Dreams

Head submerged,
Lungs screaming,
Under murky water
Without goggles
Hazy visions
Through the tunnel vision
Of our sleepless minds
And sleepless thoughts

Faceless men
And faceless souls
Walking aimlessly
Marching like saints
Talking to ghosts
Brushing elbows with demons
And chasing pavements
With salted cheeks
And fresh scars
With bent backs
And weary eyes
With callused palms
And tired feet
With broken hearts
And broken dreams

Wake up
Morning peeks
Between the hills
Wake up
The birds sing
A haunting melody
Mourning the death
Of the moon
Wake up
And
Everything –
Memories
Images
Words
Thoughts
People
Places –
Dissipates
Evaporating into
Thin air
Like seawater
Under a summer sun

We
The People
Humans
Float through them
Sift through them
Burn through them
Live through them
Again and again
On repeat
With no button
To rewind
The past
With no button
To pause
And collect
The pieces of us
Lost to the current
Of our
Boundless Minds

I think a scream might have escaped my lips when I realized that this poem ended with the name of my blog…anyway (NOT anyways…I hate when people say that :P) it’s evident that my DISCLAIMER applies to this poem as well. “Dreams” is another “stream of consciousness” piece of writing (I write prose…leaving something unedited stabs at my heart), so (like I’ve said before) I’ll probably check this a billion times in the next couple of days.

Please let me know if this poem resonated with you! I would love to read anything you have to share (especially negative critiques)! What do you consider dreams?

Don’t forget to like and subscribe! It makes me HAPPY 🙂

– Shouryaman

*Image is “Journey of Dreams” by Jeremiah (jerry8448) from http://bit.ly/1IBRuRw

Poetry: Show Me the Light

DISCLAIMER: I’m not a poet. Actually, I take that back…I don’t consider myself a poet (partially because I don’t believe I am skilled enough to claim that honor), but that doesn’t mean I can’t ABSOLUTELY fall in love with the legato flourishes and poignant movements of poetry. In more ways than one, poetry intrigues me far more than prose ever will, and sometimes, I try. And sometimes, I fail, like we all do, but I try anyways because that’s the only way we learn. Now before I digress and preach ad infinitum, here is “Show Me the Light,” which I wrote in roughly five minutes (which means I’ll probably discover a billion mistakes within the next two days). Enjoy!

There are fish in Mexico
That forgot to leave a trail of crumbs
And found themselves surrounded
By darkness
In the cavernous mouth of
Death.

Shadows engulfed them
In endless night,
Wrapped their heads with black cloth,
Suffocating
Strangling
Smothering
Them.
Destroying them,
Chipping away at their souls
With the false hope of light
Of life.

But they didn’t die.

No
No, no

They survived,
Thrived
Adapted
To death’s plans.

But the perpetual night
Was vindictive
And mutilated their bodies
Twisting their physical state into
Shells of hometown glory, prideful pasts

Blinding, stealing their eyes
“With survival they became hideous”
But they wondered silently
Staring into a void of nothingness
They wondered, pondered
Stuck in reveries forged from
Hope and tears and blood

They thought
If a ray of light were to enter their lives
A single ray

Would it brighten their faces?
Would it warm their hearts?
Would it restore their beauty?
Their life?

Or

Would they fight over the light?
Fight over the chance
To stand in the sun
Bask in its warmth
Spread sunshine over their skin
Like ointment over scars

Would they spread their wings
And fly away with the thought of
Change?

With the thought that the world
Is capable
Of mercy,
Of love.

The fish in Mexico
Remind me
That even if the body falters,
With blinded eyes and broken feet,
With deafened ears and cracked skin,
With open wounds and open hearts,
And the mind fails
The spirit will forge ahead,
And rise
Until ladies become lords
And lambs become lions.

The Mexican tetra
Lives in the dark
Hides from the past
And I wonder
Would I gravitate to the warmth
Of light?
Would I become
Less hideous
If you show me the light?

Hearts and Kisses,
Shouryaman Saha

Inspired by Season 2 of Blacklist, Episode Nine.

P.S. I might return to the Mexican tetra for future pieces (both prose and poetry), so stay tuned!! 🙂

Creative Fiction: Raindrops

Dear Blog Buddies:

This is a tiny portion from a creative writing piece I’ve been working on that can also (kind of) function as a standalone piece, so here it is: Raindrops. Keep in mind, this is still a rough draft, so sorry if it’s not above par yet! Hope you enjoy and feel free to leave any comments!

P.S. in case you were wondering, the the grammatical mistakes and lowercase letters are there on purpose 😛

i think about raindrops sometimes.

i think about how they fall to an uncertain end, tripping and stumbling over each other, breaking their bones. how they cling to the warmth of fingertips pressed against windows, shivering and quivering and holding onto heaven with pathetic desperation, teeth chattering hands trembling legs bruising heart faltering tears falling. how they lose their grip and shatter on the pavement into a million little pieces. how they glide down the glass, falling apart like hearts until they are nothing, until they are dead. how no one celebrates their lives, remembers their deaths. how they hide the tears of faceless hopeless restless breathless lifeless women who choke on smoke and live in the haze, washing away their pain and fear and mascara like the pull of the ocean at high tide, sullying themselves during the feat. how they knock on doors with the broken hope that they will open like the wrinkled sky during a storm. how the clouds drop them like coins in the dark, just to watch them fall, hear them break.

I think about how I am rain.

Best Regards,
Shouryaman