The Poetry Marathon

The Butterfly fell in love with the Pitcher Plant,

Knew if she went near it, she will be eaten up.

A small life span, was she ready to be a rebel?

Leave the rose and sit on what every other insect was afraid of?

Collected all her strength and she flew to the death trap.

The rose has all beautiful wings fluttering around him,

But his eyes set on that little rebellious one.

“Am the king of the garden and she flies to the bad boy,

Oh! So true some butterflies are just eccentric”

She flies towards the insect eater,her little heart beating fast.

She gently sits on a leaf to proclaim “I love you, please don’t eat me”

But before she can say a word he devours her into parts.

Dark nights in the town,

The moon wore a bridal gown.

The stars looked happy, twinkled and smiled around.

The moon looked graceful but is missing now.

The nights are grey, only shadows dance. Why is the moon so shy?

Where has she gone, hidden in the sky? Citylights, buildings bright,

Who has the time to sit and stare…

And gaze at the night sky, Who cares?

If a star has fallen, The sky swollen.

Who cares? To search, To pass a warrant. Who cares? To feel the the leaves covered in frost,

To think about the moon that is lost.

All comfy on our beds,

All happy in our inner mess.

Who cares to draw that curtain, And look now?

To look at the sky And wonder how,

The earth goes round the sun or The sun follows you around.

They explained it long back.

So we won’t be curious anymore and just be slack.

Moving yet not going ahead, Searching but will never comprehend,

Look but shall never find, Because all we have is: A narrow one track mind.

We want to spread our wings..
And touch the sky..
Walk around the world..
And leave footprints on the ground..
We wish to breathe..
The fragrance of freedom.
We want to rise above and touch the Sun,
meet the moon,
and dance with the stars.
We want to spread our wings.
And travel to lands distant and far.
But then we see
our shackled feet..
Our chained wings..
We are not singing melodies..
Caged birds only sing dirges sad.–
Fire in our eyes and strength in our wings..:
Storms cannot be bound in cages.
We’ll one day break free.
The shackles in pieces the chains made dust..
We’ll soar to the zenith.
Not garden cuckoo..
We are eagles who sings of glory..
Songs of victory..!!

I see the first prompt on my computer screen,

Was so excited to begin.. But!! Wait.

Whhhaaat? To begin you must write about ‘The End’

So my brain cells jump to action, I grab my notebook and pen,

And turn all spontaneous only to end up chewing off my pen’s end.

I cannot think of a proper end that ever happened

Because isn’t that a saying that “Endings lead to new beginnings.” And nothing fades away.

When one love story ends another one blooms. And I won’t write about movie endings.

They are so abrupt. Walking hand in hand to the moon, a happily ever after awaits. Really?

And about the world ending. I know some days things seem pretty bad, the News Channels shouting the World’s coming to an End.

But what I feel is From utter chaos From Big Bang From the end,

We will begin again.

Hello everyone… Am a 21 year old girl trying to create magic yah you got it right I am a potterhead. But I believe in dreams and the power of the pen. Am a poet, a tiny little plant trying to grow through every storm that says “you shall perish”. I believe in equality of men and animal alike.  I believe the world is a beautiful place. I believe the Pen is mightier than the sword.