P.V. Sindhu (Acrostic)

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Point by point, She scored our hearts away.
Victorious, regardless of what the world says.
She poured in, what is more than all the gold.
In every moment of the hour, it was her heart, her soul.
Not even when it was all over, she did fall.
Dazzling like a star, she lifted the girl’s face like a true power.
Honour and pride she brings to her home.
Until the next hour, we are sure, with this, there will be gold.

– Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)

Image Source: Google

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Not yours

Forced calmness you have put over your face.
There is the rattle over there
plundering the people’s gaze.
Hey friend! You are an imagination.
Silence is here. In her little palms cared.
To the days where memories hold on.
My anger and my knives are drawn.
By the breeze of your distant country.
The rage which is now cold, stares.
Beyond the  oblivion, it stays.
Wash the faces and the embodied selves.
It will drain, but such cleansing is of no help.
You are poor. Poor out of the inhumane.
Go tell the merry makers where we store our sins.
Of the calmness forced upon them.
They will think and for you,
unknowingly they will bring.
What is not yours and I go out of words.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)

Becoming Dice

Silently you stepped over
to purchase the other side
of the line that had us separated
from all we would rather be.

The game had you roll like a dice.
Unaware of the numbers we were to face.
And the chances slipped from spaces
between our fingers where we held the same.
Belonging to us.
Not you. Not me. It was  us.

The key to the lock we have,
now rests on the ocean bed.
“Two is the number now, one is not.”
The Dice tells.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi.
(The Stories beneath the eyes)

Secret (Acrostic)

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Silenced beneath beautiful shining green
Eyes deep like the oceans I have longing for.
Chest holding a lot more than every complexity holds.
Resting where they belong.
Enwrapped away from the cruelty of this world.
Time in this life, will not be enough to unravel them all.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)

Reflection

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Anchored to this captivity

pleasuring memories are nothing.

Cicadas calling, do you hear?

Or is it the heart that sleeps?

Ripple after Ripple,

the reflection shivers.

Lingering in latency,

the fingers, warm im fists.

Could this be happening?

To the reflections in shiny dark seas?

They keep drowning deep.

The music plays and no sound of tapping feet.

Give it back, it was mine to keep.

-Manvendra Vidyarthi.

(The Stories beneath the eyes)

Untitled

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The doors we stepped towards
turned themselves into walls.
Unpredictable they were
and so, some of us are.
The quiet might be the loudest inside.
The one with those assumed to be, helpful eyes.
May be hiding a sickle at your blind side.
Gods be feeling ashamed of
watching over all the divides.
Please! Do not shut your eyes
or turn your backs
to this please stand high.
The doors, turning into walls
shall be crushed and left behind.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)

On Fragments

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Left over fragments, we linger upon now.
A Cline of partial sweet nurturing
and of partial blunt rejections.
Where we come now.
A mirror I stand before and what appears is your reflection.
Mirror separates mine two worlds.
Silence, an enemy and a friend.
The pen writes, left unsaid.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi.
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)