Posted in Poetry

Inking lives.

As the ink flew
on the white sheet
A story spun around
To a mellow beat.
Grounds sprung to life
Lakes gave way to bridges
Rising on the firm of his wind
He entwined the skies to the limits undermined.
For he was the lion, the Witch the wardrobe,
or the sorcerer in the black robe
or he could breathe fire
or the jury he owned.
Let away with the melodious tunes
The paths led to the crescent moon
With a rabbit mesmerizing kids
or a princess for whom his heart he bid.
He was a sailor and an apprentice
And yet the flow wouldnt cease
For now if he existed no more
wouldnt a millions lives, he miss?
He absorbed the worlds he lived.
Or created more for those
who would just swim in his flow…Writing-is-Who-I-Am
or to lengths they would go.
but it eventually dried.
He breathed his last
while on stranger tides.
only to leave the world(s) in dark
for the lament to brighten the vast
Held by his brethren
Who flew and dwelled in deep seas
of imagination, riding on the slow breeze
For life is a canvas – blank and white
for you to rule with the colors bright.

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Author:

A freelancer, hopeless romantic, loves adventure and also an admirer of some lone time with coffee. Can't live without my diary and my phone. A big drum of emotions as I like to call myself, I am cheerful, humorous, and I love dancing. I have a lot of interests from being a hardcore Football enthusiast and a Manchester United fan to Speaking to an audience, sharing something close and revolutionary to me. I love adventure and can't be curtailed under house arrest. Nature, new minds, new surroundings are what I live for.

Thank you :)

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