Tag Archives: freedom

Lock and Key

Posted on by axelle

Lurking in the depths of my soul
The hunger unfettered, growls and roars

I grab it tight with both my arms
With fingers unclenched from clammy palms

Yet fear threatens to swallow all sound
The muted ringing of silence surrounds

I dare not open my eyes, and stare
Into the very eyes of despair

On a face that could so easily mirror my own
Had it not been wildly unkempt and so very old

Dazed, startled, I uncurl again, and again glimpse
The future that spins anew with every blink

~ Akanksha Gupta (poem)

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Fearless

Posted on by axelle

The stars are in your eyes
The clouds under your feet
And at your fingertips
The skies seemingly breathe

Their breath tickles your face
With sprays of sand and salt
As the clouds disintegrate
And into the sea you fall

The sea’s swallowed the sun
And the tears of the night
Now the night is on the run
Here creeps in the morning light

Through the canopy of leaves
The netted sunbeams prance
They prick away the sleep
And fill awe in every glance

– Akanksha Gupta

Beautiful

Posted on by axelle

The Night is mine;
Its tranquil undergrowth
Its eerie loveliness
Its wayward melody
Whose every haunting note
Hides
The silent screams
That seize my lungs,
That claw out but in vain,
Clinging onto sheer desperation
In the madness of this moment
That seems to have
Frozen
Into a brief ‘forever’ –
One of the many
That sulk and skulk
About the sidewalks of my nights
Casting their shadows smooth
Upon the dark and the deep
That glide
Into its mystery –
Like friends of old
They greet
To meet before,
Again, they part
There is a stark comfort
In this that though the Day’s
Disguise is yours,
The Night is mine,
For me, mine alone –
Its louring scaffolding
Its liberating anonymity
Its untold lore of yore
Its unabashed beauty

– Akanksha Gupta

The Illusion of Freedom

Posted on by axelle

My fingers don’t shake
Yet my pen hesitates
And the paper is black and blue.
I tighten my hold –
Had I been so lax
As to let the pen grow bold?
It is but a paper anyway;
And papers come and papers go –
The convenient martyrs
Of our self-effacing ways,
Covering our rot within theirs,
Letting our thoughts stay
Strangled within our throats –
Little birds
That now whisper
In our ears
Words
That make words cower,
And ideas, that yearn
To run free,
Find themselves
Short of words
Suddenly,
Apparently,
Justifiably.

– Akanksha Gupta