A Message Through The Sun, The Earth, The Sky.


Is this the sunset when the sea is painted in glittering gold?
Or the foreign lands?
Of whom I learn more, each day.
Like the memory I never lived.
Is that how the clouds make the earth taste?
Of which is hers to begin with.
Of which she is unknown.
Yet, it is all her own.
How she becomes more of what she was before.
O! The Sun!
O! The Earth!
O! The Sky!
How might I, through you convey?
In genuineness, what is hidden in the moon’s light.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)

Ode of Leaves


Crisp, curled in cocoon
of Winters O! Scattered falls,
the dry allures.
Thee roll carpeted yellow brown.
Silenced Streets with
the Song of thy sounds.
In dry she turned now.
Her nature wherein thee stay wrapped
every then, will be of her’s.
New forms reside.
The nuances belong to,the now dry.
Dropped from thy highs.
Flat, some curled, some untouched
and crushed, thee lie.
Thee descend to thy begin.
In time, spring again in thy highs.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)

The Rain


Serenading the Night’s deep star filled Ocean,
The Breeze becomes my sail.
For Jasmine’s resuscitation,
The moist barks, notoriously fills in their scents.
The Frogs sing in their baritones.
Through them my glories are shown.

Hackneyed becomes the air when I am rare.
But I slip from the God like Cerulean,
To touch my Green Lover’s skin.
And seep and lose my drops, to her brim.

Our children rest in my Lover’s lap.
Shall sprout out into the daylight
from their deep sweet naps.
And I shall evaporate and raise to the Blue God.
Only to fall and kiss my Green Lover, in her droughts.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)