Posted in Poetry

Denouement (Resolution of a mystery).

​His eyes taught me how deep are things. 

His smile taught me how warm is contentment. 

His smell taught me how things are felt. 

His laugh taught me how rich is happiness. 

His walk taught me how graceful is motion. 

I admired from far and learnt things new. 

But when he spoke in words I learnt how pain is felt, 

how some hearts do beat yet they do not feel.

©Nimisha Sharma

Posted in Poetry

Revelations

But you were just my imagination

The person of my creative imagination,

Let me describe your indiscernible existence

In my life, even in the reality station,

You have me in your astonishing trance. 

Best portrayed with adjectives,

There’s the sauntering role of you

They have no idea about your motives

These disincentive people don’t know.

In my mind, inside my head,

The art of you is ostensible,

What I do and what I ever did,

For them it shouldn’t be enunciable.

It should be me and it should be you,

The limits shall there be perceived.

I don’t want to share any part of you

To them bodies, there’s nothing to be received.

No care in this world so small and restricted,

These are my boundaries that I’ve constructed.

Don’t let them in, don’t call them out,

I don’t have now nothing to worry about.

I’ve got you for myself, I don’t need them anymore.

They had their chance, I don’t give no more.

©Nimisha Sharma

Posted in Poetry

Their Demons

Be right here with me

Counting the span of your interests,
Keep changing, none did ever last,
You play with them, toss them away
Like the rythm in chest which beats so fast.

Won’t you filter out your wrong deeds?
Beloved throw away them, all bad memories.
For I’ll never let them be the seeds,
The foundation of the future trees.

Don’t let those voices rule your mind
Of the demons, we each have our own.
Do justice to your inner soul,
We always reap what we’ve sown.

Become a part of the air in my lungs
I’d need it till my last breath.
If I wanted to stop breathing now,
I’d want my days with you till death.

©Nimisha Sharma

Posted in Poetry

Never Enough

But I went through

I grew, still the tree could more.

I learned, still the genius could more.

I saw, still the wanderer could more.

I fought, still the struggler could more.

I suffered, still the other could more.

I screamed, still the victim could more.

I cried, still the rain could more.

I died, but the dead couldn’t more.

©Nimisha Sharma

Posted in Poetry

Orison – Poem

Faith

​I sleep at night thinking about the stomachs unfilled,

The death of people that become the bodies,

The pain in hearts of those ones who get hurt,

The empty souls who didn’t get the love.


The darkest days they cover the light,

The struggling men, they who plea,

The ones who lost everything dear,

The innocent lives who live in fear.


I shut my eye and fill my lungs with the air of despair,

I believe in good, it all shall rise.


I have my faith there’s someone feeding the unfortunates,

In the peace that follows after they who died,

And the faith in the strength of the one who got hurt,

The hope still left for love for the soul that remained unspoken,


I know there will be a dawn that follows the dusk,

I believe in the prayers of the struggling men,

I’ll hope with belief that they all get answered.

For the ones who don’t have anything dear,

I’ll send my affection conveyed in my prayers.

For the ones who have had enough of wrong,

My heart calls out for you, you all stay strong.


To the ones who think they have no back,

I got you in my heart, this orison for help.

© Nimisha Sharma

Posted in Poetry

Serendipity – Poem

I fell for your soul

When the sun shines, the rays fall,

You aren’t the yellow, you are the bright of it.

The warm around the regions roll,

You aren’t the intensity, you are the light of it.


When its dark out, no stars at all,

You aren’t the obscurity, you are the calm of it.

The silence around the regions roll,

You aren’t the loss, you are the sound of it.


When it seems like spring, the trees so tall,

You aren’t the nature, you are the value of it.

The refreshments around the regions roll,

You aren’t the view, you are the energy of it.


When it rains, the drops of element fall.

You aren’t the water, you are the cool of it.

The breeze around the regions roll,

You aren’t dew, you are the feel of it.


When the autumn approaches, the leaves all fall,

You aren’t the frigid, you are the zeal of it.

The chill around the regions roll,

You aren’t yet winter, you are the news of it.


Even if there shall be nothing at all,

You won’t be the grief, never will be the cause of it.

© Nimisha Sharma

Posted in Poetry

Unrequited – Poem

Lingering rejection

Will it burn them to see my scars?

Singing along the zones, stretching those parts,

Was it not enough to give those lines,

Waiting for the response, not wanting the stars.

Eight different ways I made it seen,

Every gesture I did, I made it mean,

Longed the words in hundreds of conversations,

Then moved to observe the littlest of actions.

Would it kill them to let go?

Okay or not just make it known,

Still I know I’d be here no matter what,

Even if the rejection tears me apart.

Need that denial be spoken aloud,

I know its lingering there not so proud,

The speech of theirs will only clear,

The facts I know, the most I fear.

Posted in Poetry

Memoirs

Back in the days, when I as well as every other individual lived a less intelligent life, things were pretty easy as either black or white. Now we all have discovered the gray and the various shades of gray (Also 50 shades of grey; pun intended). I feel time has sat itself on a roller coaster and is now hurriedly making its way through the end. 

What started as a fun journey has now become one of the twisted tales we all would ever make through.

Generally, we all have been through times that could be categorized as either ups, downs or loops in turns.

​She has it in her hands, the card of memoir,

The rear shows white, the face is a reservoir,

Of the days of history, those memories are preserved.

In a picture of past with secrecy and, reserved.

From the times when a girl with a young angelic face,

With glittery eyes under the sun, she wandered the place,

Her charm so deep, reflecting opaque specks of naive,

She sauntered there while radiating an image of belief.
Oh, how she was smiling still, intending before her,

Even when she didn’t know whose intensity will see it later.

Above are the eyes of hawk, remembering the reason,

Rummaging the points, those were good being frozen.
For now the knowing eyes, invading the knowing scene,

In the lost eyes, which dreamed the future unforeseen.

Never knew the time ahead would turn out like now,

But the soil of stated would only be ploughed.
The urge to erase it down is hidden inside and beneath,

The heart that wants to reverse the dawn of truth,

Wished she could be the same, like the smile in frame,

Not the current hollow eyes with an identical name.