Attempt
Tag: Imagination
Poems published in Muse India
I am excited to share that my four poems, ‘ The Shooting Star’, ‘In the Dreams’, ‘ An Anxious Mother’, and ‘ Your Soul’ have been published in a literary e-journal, Muse India. It has a primary objective of showcasing Indian writings in English. The journal offers a wide range of literary forms- poetry, essays, short stories, conversations with writers and book reviews. I am filled with gratitude to see my work on the website. I’m thankful to the editors and the entire team of Muse India.
Here is the link to the new edition released recently http://www.museindia.com/Home/ViewContentData?arttype=poems&issid=94&menuid=9230
Happy blogging!!
Bhavya Prabhakar
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Stars!
Photo by pexels
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To myself!!
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Hiding!
Come close!!
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Lose!!
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My hands
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Struggle
My pen is shaking
I am agitated
My notepad is topsy-turvy
With the struggle
I revere the most
In this bloomy air.
The confusion relies
On my pen
Am I writing sense
Where are the words
What come before
And after.
My thoughts agree
With the struggle
I revere the most
My pages are strewn
Around haphazardly
To show unity
In the process
Creating the signature marks.
My pen is shaking
I am agitated
With the struggle
Feeling the goosebumps
When the nib
touched My hands
In the hope
Of the love.
The struggle
To evoke the philosophy
To create fusion
To dwell on the pages
With the same intensity
When I think of you.
I revere the most
the struggle, my pen goes through!
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
PHOTO BY PEXELS
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PURITY
He peeled his skin, to see if
the blood has same purity as
the redness in his eyes,
the fact is silent
in the moonshine.
Purity has which colour
red or white
or is it because of the wine
He coloured himself red, to see if
He feels the purity as
the pure love in her eyes.
Felt so lost
to find this purity
was once there in her eyes,
he travelled to mountains, to see if the
he could find that colour
of purity in his own eyes.
Purity is playing games
or the game is to be pious
craving to fly to the moon
with her profound purity
still so lost,
to find that sparkle
in the blinking eyes.
He pulled his hairs, to see if
the hairs fall like he falls
to find the colour
the colour denied its presence
in front of purity.
“No colour can define me (Purity)
I am having colours of my own
keep changing
according to the beliefs
of the unknown.”
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
PHOTO BY PEXELS
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HEAT
The sunburns are red
The tanning is gold
The marks are real
The sweat is glowing
With the heat of the town.
She is burning
He is burning
To fire the conscious
To light the lamp
In the heat of the sun.
The craving for water
To dive into the coldness
The hands are cold and wet
Giving the pleasure of ice
In the heat of the moment.
The pressure is on the heels
To stop jumping
To restore some energy
In this heat of the sun
Bright and golden
Glowing like a sunflower.
Eyes dare not open
In the shiny effect
The glasses kept me close
Waiting for the dark
To come and take
Me away from this heat
For a while.
Yet, I love this glow every morning
The heat of Sun!!
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
PHOTO BY PEXELS
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Be my love!
Take me into your arms
Forget the world
Lean on my chest
To make a move
Of your own.
Take me into your soul
Inhale me inside
Love me as much as you can
Show the world, that I exist
In your own style.
Take me into your memory
To create the snapshots
To play with the words
Show the world, that I exist
Through your voice.
It’s me, your own poetry
Love and live with me
In the manuscripts
Give me any form but
Show the world, that I exist
Through you and only you.
Love me as much as you can,
I am your poetry!!!!!
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
Personal photo
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MY PHONE
It’s ringing
again and again
to coordinate
with the time.
The cords
have connected
the right connection
after a while.
Its thin body
has flexible touch
often takes me
into the long
conversations.
What if, this
thin and tiny
tool escapes
from my life!
I would want
to have a taste
of golden era
with lots of
pride.
I admired and envied
this thin object
which can access
my experiences
with the names
on it.
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
PHOTO BY PEXELS
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HE AND I
He said, “You have tantrums.”
I said, “ I have mood swings
to balance the equation
to turn on the situation.”
He said, “You are insane.”
I said, “I use my mind”
to react abnormally
to act abruptly.”
He said, “You are beautiful.”
I said, “I didn’t take a shower, today
to turn on your nerves
to meander along the world.”
I said, “You are womaniser.”
He said, “Cake is more delicious
With a blend of cream on it
to fulfil the desires
to arrange the order.”
He said again, “ You have tantrums.”
I just smiled and cocooned myself
In a fluffy attire
To erase his words
From the conscious mind!
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
PHOTO BY PEXELS
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Stop and Stare
Stop and stare
At the mirror
Is it the same reflection
when you were guilty?
The guilt raised the voice,
“I am not guilty
Of the old sin
Cemented with heavy bricks
Of the cold war.”
Stop and stare
At the water
Is it as blue as
When you first dipped
Your hands into the colour?
The water filled with despair
Singing the old song
Waving in the rhythm
To show the denial
Of the discolouration.
Stop and stare
At the eccentric world
Are they as epic as
The centric ones.
Running from the limelight
To cool down
The guilt inside
Craving to be candid
With the leisures of life!
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
Personal photo taken by me in Mumbai, staring and imagning the world around!
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Rapid fire round!
He said,“ let’s play
rapid fire round
in a mystic way,
close your eyes
imagine the world
that shines up in the sky.”
She insisted on the fact
“ why to play this game?
when the glory is all set
to open the wings
of purity and divinity!”
Rapid is just merely
An intention of the mind
To start a game of requirement
The idea was to build
A trust of corner
In the beam of light.
Is it possible
Not to apply the conditions
Of the round
When the rapid
Was not your intention……!
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
Photo by Pexels
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Loss and Profit
What is Loss?
If the loss is
changeable
according to
situations!
The loss is
To be bankrupt
To be jobless
To be guilty
To be forgotten
Or the loss is losing
Your loved ones
In the fight of
Life and death.
What is Profit?
Wining a lottery
Lakhs in account
To be beautiful
Luxuries around.
Or the profit is
Having the dear
Ones around
Giving affection
And strength.
Loss and Profit
Depend on each other
To compliment the equation
For a luminescent outcome
In the reality of life
To give the luminescent
Mixture in the limelight.
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
PHOTO BY PEXELS
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Poetry to Micropoetry
Poetry to Micropoetry
“my veins are still
flooded with light
to purify the blood
to pump the words
to flow in a rhythm
to dance with the functioning
of my body
so that the content
should fall in place
giving life to the verses
of my spine.”
O! my Micro poetry
you have the essence
of the contemporary
society.
But the ink is fighting
to decide the genre
in a decade
as the literary world
denies your existence
in the world of expression
thinking it’s too micro
to rejuvenate the rhythm
of the pages of life.
Nevertheless, every form of art
is idiosyncratic in its own
why to collate each other
why not to lionise and fete
your arrival as the bride
of the handsome groom
on the red carpet!
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
PHOTO BY PEXELS
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Hiding behind the chaos!
Hiding behind the chaos
To create a pattern
Of the life
What is pleasure
In the limelight
If the freedom
Is not right?
Hiding behind the chaos
To portray the new being
Fresh and new
Attracting the bees
With honey
To forget the misdeeds
Done with fruitful hands
It was just a pleasure
Of the life.
Hiding behind the chaos
To respire the freshness
Of the green world
What if I am toxic
From inside
Still having the designation
In the intellectual world
Halfwits in the background
To trip over the stones
Created to justify
The reasons!
Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar
PHOTO BY PEXELS
The aspiring, we 
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