Kritika Maheshwari

Hope

Lift that chin which dropped in love
Past hard time was best but tough
Heart is not an object, humans are dove
A full of hope Sky is always above

Dream Stream

Hand me the now empty glass
Want to pour in new dreams
While drunk on the past ones
I realize I have been sailing on a stream

Now a Beast

that purity of your soul
shouts like a mistaken beast
which not one can comprehend
but take themselves as your feast

that purity of your soul
knows the mind games they played
pampering you enough to beast up
until the monster they created is displayed

~~~

Kritika blogs at Undressed Thoughts. She has been writing since a year now and has one of her poems, ‘Red Nose’ published at Spillwords Press. Her blog consists of quotes, prose, short stories, artwork, photography and poetry.

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Reblog – dark again

It is dark now but the light will come back again. This piece so eloquently expresses we must proactively seek out hope. Reality will eventually catch up.

Breaking the silence

anxiety born to be hidden

just like everything else

except the mask

never the mask

for it serves as a shield

hope

followed with confusion

relapsing fear

breaking illusion

creation

limited distraction

but important factor

inevitable now

when I feel down.

making art

to let my pain out

determined to fight

to exit the dark

when I start to write

and in aftermath of all my crises

resilient hope still thrives

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The Upside Of War

Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #128

every negative situation
has the power
to become a positive force
for cultural shift

lives are lost
but lives will be saved
in the future
from what we learn

life’s path
takes a different turn
our day to day changes
becoming a new reality

gleening a possibility
of hope in this evil’s demise
in the following days
it begins during these troubled times

I Became

2

That gaze lightened my heaviness.
Those eyes told me I was safe.

Tender forcefulness reached in
and unearthed me from
the hardened layers of
self-imposed eradication.

You found out who I was
and loved me anyway.

Years of destruction erased.
You easily removed all the layers of my shame.
I felt unafraid in your embrace.

My hard callouses protected me,
you smoothed them out with your touch.
My bleeding open wounds
stitched up by your love.

I was healing.
I recovered.
I became sane.

Captured

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Over and over, repeated re-injury of the senses.
It’s what we had.

Dressed in our despair, bonded by pain.
It’s what we shared.

We twisted and contorted, struggled further to gain control.
It’s how we fought.

Every prick of the conscience drained another abscess.
It’s how we learned.

Giving up was not an option.
It’s how we lived.