The room is lost within me tonight,
Darkness might replace for the fight by the night,
A spirit is souring through the sky,
But my tunes will hypnotize the entire sky.
Grief, envy and lust;
Eating up my entire crust…
Yet,
I look past the pain
Fighting to come back in my old-frame
But goes all in vain.
The night light casts it’s way
No light offered to my grave,
Yet again,
I get back to the melody
To make the spirit dance
In my lucid waves.
– KinjalParekh ❤
Greatingsss everybodyyy!!
Okay. So here it is. My first try to record my poem into a video!
I literary recorded God know how many audios before finalising the final one!!
It would be soo great if you could spare 2minutes to check out my Spoken Word Poetry on my YouTube Channel
Here’s the link.
YouTube-Ocean
P.S. – Do not forget to like, comment and subscribe if you like it.
Excited and nervous!!
Much Love and Thankful!!
❤❤❤
Moved by this poem of your’s!
Read this, everybody!!
Ignorant to the sunrise and the flower’s bloom,
As the world around you sinks in gloom,
You tremble before you enter hell’s gates,
Camouflaged in white painted walls;
where mockery & hatred plagued the tainted halls.
Surviving school is tough when you aren’t cool,
get pushed & thrown around like a fool.
Your self-esteem is crushed, confidence destroyed,
You cried and cried while the people enjoyed,
Tried to fight back but you were too weak,
Battered and scared, all hope is bleak.
Shunned out, running about,
how do you find someone to confide in,
when you can’t even find a corner to hide in?
Hide your tears but in vain,
consider throwing yourself in front of a train.
Years later, school’s over,
but in your mind you’re still a loser.
The battle is far from over, infact it just started,
this time, not with the bullies, but yourself.
You’ve become…
View original post 265 more words
Rajkot, Gujrat.
A colorful city,
Where every soul lives in harmony.
Back to daddy’s home town,
Mumbai,
Where people’s life was no wonder
on the rush mode.
A month old,
Too little to understand a word or speak,
Her daddy says,
She used to cry everytime
If they failed to make her twirl.
2 years passed,
A baby brother was born.
No doubt he was cuter than her
And there is no one else to blame either.
3 years old,
Her first day in KinderGarden,
Her mommy said,
Her pony was like a fountain.
Been in the same school till her 10th grade,
No wonder,
Every grade has a tale,
That will always stay,
A trace of her will always be there.
Somewhere at the age of 7,
her brother was now 5,
He was learning to ride a 4 wheeled bicycle,
While she blew away in her 2 wheel bicycle,
All by herself, with pride.
She is 9 now.
She couldn’t understand the concept of one life,
Learning what the teacher says,
Unaware of the blame games.
12 year old.
She is stumbling in her pursue of grace,
Hunting patience, with avengeance.
She stands out looking up smiling
She thought God was taking her photographs.
15 year old,
Where she understands now,
What she know is true,
But might be incomplete.
When she stays inside, writing,
All she could think was about
How she should be outside, living.
She turned 16 next year,
Her college has already begun.
Fighting new odds and few demons,
But having a poetry,
To always fuel her silence.
Helping someone heal,
Helping someone fall in love,
And believing in all her dreams
To reach the peak.
17 years old,
She gave her most of the time
Wandering if she could be somewhere else,
So this is when she learned to frame the word –
‘THANKYOU‘
With the first thing in her breath, every morning;
And last breath, each night;
So when her very last breath comes,
Atleast, she’ll know she was greatful for…
For all the places she was so sure she was not supposed to be,
All the places she made it to,
All the hurts she held,
All the words she wrote.
She is finally 18 now.
Yet the same old tiny girl,
Who people still confuses with 8 year old.
She kissed a bliss this year.
And learned new things.
Striving to be successful,
Spreading smiles became her routine.
Kissed away the pain, thanking it to stop by,
For few things are always worth to have by.
Today. She is 19.
But again, people will still be confused with her to be the nine year old.
Camera snapping,
Eyelids flapping,
Darkest dark,
And the brightest bright.
She still refrains to act her age,
Because the child in her
Is the best part what people craves.
Having big dreams in her small eyes,
Talking with stars and the moon
And still searching for nothing
In the wide void room.
She might be reciting some old poetry rn,
Because it tells her,
Where she was exactly at that moment
And the place she tried to navigate.
– KinjalParekh. ❤👑
It is not the ending that will haunt you,
But, the space where it may lie.
The things that simply faded without one final wave of goodbye.
Forgetting things you were sure you knew.
Or the books with torn out pages.
Or a question with no answer.
Forever in the corners
of our consciousness, they sit.
But, may be,
What if,
Those spaces are bliss for the moments.
May be those unsaid goodbyes are the proof that
It isn’t really the end.
May be, forgetting is the proof that
the room of faith, hope and magic is powerful enough to let a miracle happen.
May be the torn pages were just pages of the wrong books.
Cause darling,
You make Your World and We all are eventually One.
Happiness, love, gratitude are forever
and hard times just a temporary discomforts.
May be,
The un-answered question is the actual answer, that,
It isn’t really the end. 💕☄
– Kinjal Parekh.❤👑
Lying on the bed like an object,
An object but yet alive.
Alive but lost.
Lost yet having hopes.
Hopes… but full of fear.
“Fear?”
Fear to not get what belongs to me.
“Belongs to me?”
Yes.
“Sure?”
Definately 🙂
Sometimes, rather all the time, you need to listen to your heart…your inner voice. And that’s all I promise to do henceforth.
– Kinjal Parekh. 👑❤
In your escapes,
In your wanderings,
You’ll find a part of yourself..
which wasn’t really lost.
You just never knew you had one.
A part which chose to show itself..
only in the rarest of occasion.
That part, of a Free bird..
waiting to flap it’s wings,
And fly away from this world of torments.
– Kinjal Parekh. 👑❤
Mesmerising your smile,
Mesmorising your touch,
Damn! Look what you’ve done…
Never thought of ‘us’ to be ‘one’.
Not needing a tag yet,
to be called ‘one’
But yeah, he said once…
“Clueless relationships are the best.”
May be time is at it’s pace
to build a bridge through our heart,
But, whatsoever…
I now know that I am blessed with a beautiful star.
Not so patient enough,
But, patient enough…
To know what life has on it’s card to unfold,
May be…
May be what heart wants?
May be some beautiful story…?
That may take a beautiful turn… ❤
-Kinjal Parekh. 👑❤
(Note : This poem is on feminism and is in ‘Hindi’.)
_____________________________
Jiss ghar me hoti rehi be-izzati usski,
na jane kyu phir bhi vo vahi rahi.
Kya hoga iss chidiya ka me sochu,
jo pankh lagne ke pehle hi
apne pinjre se hakaal di gai.
Haan vohi chidiya jo parai hui nahi thi,
par parai kar di gai.
Socha bohut iss baar ussne bhi,
key, kar le samjhauta roshni se,
ke tuut jae vo kahi..saweree se.
Lekin insaan thi vo bhi fitraat se,
samjhauta kar liya ussne phir,
par iss baar
khud se nahi…
Haatalo se.
-Kinjal Parekh. 👑❤
Yes, this is how we express ourselves.
We express ourselves, the pain inside us, those unforgiving feelings…
by vigorously writing them down with ink onto paper that can only carry memories forever.
It is by writing our life events.
It is by writing lines with more meaning than a reader would ever feel.
Yes, sometimes writing down things brings more tears in our eyes than before.
The more pain goes into each word,
the more pain is sucked out of us.
We choose to express ourselves by writing our good notes and dark nights.
But we choose to do this because this is the only medication,
that can heal our pain and treasure memories.
Which in turn works better than any doctor’s prescription.
Goes unread many of our words because the crazy things we write doesn’t really happen?
There are around 7billion people across the globe and we believe that someone does exactly what we do, how we feel.
Certain it is that someone else has just stood in the shower as the boiling water ran down their body.
Cried about life because they don’t know what to do.
Yes, we use words to figure these feelings out when our mind starts battling with heart.
This is how we express us.
(Poets, writers)
❤
👑
If ever a person who draws,
let you look over their shoulder…
If the poet,
smiles and shows you her words…
If a person who sings for the shower,
humm’s a song only in front of you…
Know that you are no longer a person,
but the air
and the dust
that fills their lungs.
When the world perishes,
and all things cease to exist,
You’ll still be alive inside a paint brush,
an ink stain,
and a song…
FOREVER ❤
👑
That shutter,
When we said Hello!
That flutter,
When I saw your face Again.
That fluster,
When I decided not to Care.
That mutter,
When I made an excise to Leave.
That smother,
When my shattered heart Remembers.
That shudder,
When I know it’s time to recognize it’s Over.
That shudder,
When I know your heart is now meant for Another.
👑
