April

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Dear April, now that you have returned to me.
Enamoured of your poesy I am still here.
Now the beaches eat more sand and on the other hand.
You run at the touch of the sea and giggle at me.
Only you are cognizant of what you make of me.
A Liar, a deluded being in dreams we talked of, to the moon.
You perch to the right spots,
and that goes for the both of your natures.
Influencing as they please.
Often I come across the Junes and the Mays.
But I know now since I have lived as a December.
That only the poems of April are the ones I feel.

-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)

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Souls

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Beautiful Outsides and utterly fine.
But these Vessels have withered insides.
A Victim? Yes! This is entirely true.
I know love. I do believe you.
You are. (with a smile)
Where does one sell souls?
I find no Devils here. Only Humans though.
Ahh! Humans are no less. Now I know.
Dylan Simone said -“ How do they walk around?
Soulless
Devoid of warmth.”
She threw me in deep thought.
But no answer to this my heart and my head caught.
It is alright Dylan. I believe and you shall too.
A place we belong to, is surely hidden somewhere too.
-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)

Such a Love

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Plunder the remains I have saved
from the numerous wars I have fought.
thou art the only, I praise.
For thou hast stolen me,
the trust of mine too.
Men shall know,
thou lovest- amain.
A blessing is,
to be plundered by thee.
– Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)

Double Acrostic.

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‘I’ as an echo, breathe in some places known. ‘But’
‘still’ cognizant of memories gone by.’I’
‘feel’ as stones waiting in the deserts who ‘know’.
‘The’ only chance they possess is with ‘you’.
‘Same’, as the echo breathing in places I know of, but you ‘don’t’.

-Manvendra Vidyathi
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)

See

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Nuances of the unprecedented claims
still, they shake, before me smeared
in prayers, the voices turn bleak.
Ostentatious impatient,
Incongruous becomes the wayworn teach
forever still, for such they seek.
Underscore this, at costs unbelievable.
My mankind comes to this.
In pockets, not roses
but blades are keeps.
At midnight, he and she,
drain eyes, drowning pillows in weeps.
O! Human! Can not you see this?
Five empty chairs and none to sit.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)