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)

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Storm

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It was such a connection they shared

that even when one would submerge

the other in their storms.

It still felt pleasant.

-Manvendra Vidyarthi

(The Stories beneath the eyes.)

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One day you die, then,
The Heaven and the Hell are the one to speak
and others then decide, you to keep.
Sleeping trees they will be there and share.
In Silence, they will stay in wait.
Chirping will not stop.
One should not fall,
when feelings fade in no sun.
For some in dark.
You are
The Golden Sun.
Warming from the cold.
None replace such a blessing,
None holds the right,
to dim the lights
and darken the paths
when no sun
warms those bright smiling hearts.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi.
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)

Ode of Leaves

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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.)

Restless Soul

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Spirits restless rising
Shivering core entwined
Aspirations in midnight open-eyed
Dreams silent behind eyes.
Disquitening butterflies
Prepare the soldier
Far into the miles
And for the transient body
Thoughts in mind.
Elements in spirited found
Courage plants down Victors
Not bow to the sinking downs.
Contain them fluent be waters
Becomes Wells, Oceans,
Or Rusty Kettle holes
Centred in core heartful
Still remains the goal.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi.
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)