From a mannequin

My hands: put them back,Where they always used to be,Bend me in my waist, rest myEyes over at thee. Wrap me in your merchandise,Put me by the door,Staring at the desolate,I beseech, entreat, implore. Lift chin with your hands bare,Keep my poise at rest,Move my body, tear me down,And leave me to protest. Detach me…

A thousand paper cranes

aren’t we all.just paper cranes.our paper wings.our paper veins.our paper necks.our paper skies.folding petty.paper lies. no. not flesh and bone.not smiles and screams.aren’t we all.just paper dreams? It took me the last 51 days to fold my first 1000 paper cranes. According to Japanese tradition, folding 1,000 paper cranes gives a person a chance to…

Boundless?

Our life’s on a canvas,So crisp and so white,Endless possibilities,To bring it to light. We sit as painters,Acrylics in hand,Adding colours to the canvas,With the passing of sand. And we look at the colours,The soft hues of pain,All of the colors,That cling to our veins. And we’re bound to fill colors,Put no boundaries at all,But…

National Poetry Month Writing Challenge: Week 3

I couldn’t agree more with C. Joybell’s quote, “I have realized; it is during the times I am far outside my element that I experience myself the most.” It’s been another week of the poetry challenge and it’s only getting better. This week was tough, like the previous week, but so much more whole. It…

The stream

A broken heart,Bleeds tears.But it’s thoseUnder her eyes,That fascinate meThe most.How they crashOnto her skinFrom the oceanOf her eyes.Raindrops,From the stormsWithin her.How they glistenLike a streamIn the fall.Only a stream:Is full of water.Her tears:Full of words.Words:That weave poetry,As they trickle.Down her chin.Into the etchings,Of my palms. © Shanyu Bihani 2020 This is a follow-up poem…