rapturouslydivine
Divisha- Rapturously divine
lucid poetry written with an occult quill ✨
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It is elusive yet abstract. Yellow is everything within you- everything that makes you feel warm, loved and dangerous.
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Yellow, my dear, is everything a human is.
From the tender pecks and sublime dreams, to a sudden, scorching, all-burning gleam.
From the bronzed sunbeams that dance under our soles,
to the sunset, where the hearts dissolve into a thousand shades of gold.
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The colour in which the blushing butterflies stir, in which humanity finds solace amidst the harsh red and black cacophonic thoughts. The crisp autumn leaves that you crunch when you take a walk on an enchanting fall day, the buttery delights that melt in your mouth, the sickly sweet caramel that makes you dream of sugar houses, the liquid sunshine that you sip every day. From the lush mustard fields to the deserted gravel sand, all you'll find are hues of this colour. All of it, it happens in yellow.
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And all this happens with the dangling sunlight that touches like an elf and daffodil delights that work magic on our soul. It happens with the sublime tenderness that gets lost in the air and the melodies that are sung in the honeybees buzz.
All of these happen in yellow.
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The gleaming sun, who literally is the centre of everything, cracks a smile at dawn- before the golden hues glisten on your cheek. And you know how contagious smiling is.
The flowers, and the faces that cried themselves to sleep last night- they smile with him.
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Describing the colour yellow to someone blind from birth.
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I am a human. One who knows how to decorate pain in colourful metaphors. One who knows how to encapsulate dreams and wishes, pain and agony in words and adorn its blank heart with them. One who understands poems and knows that your very flesh shall be a great poem. I wasn't any of these before you but I'll always be one. Because you reside in my pain and in my words even though the reality is more twisted.
~Divisha Gupta
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If a cluster of cumulus clouds engulf me and I hopelessly look around me for birds that once hummed when you sang, accompany me as the aching April shadow and water the plants that I have left dead behind me, splurge into me as the throes of spring and pierce my being with the life of it. For in ruins and pain, I see you more clearly.
~Divisha Gupta
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If the world ever tells me that you have my heart in a chamber of which cannot be opened with keys, cannot be cut with a saw and cannot be broken by hammers but your own words, I'd believe them because never will I ever want to open it if not for the mellifluous voice that brings me sleep on some nights and make me sleepless on the others.
~Divisha Gupta
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If I somehow reach and sail over the curve of horizon, where my legs keep me afloat and the sun sees me closer than he saw Icarus, even in the blinding light I would open my eyes if you call out my name. And if the sun mocks my devotion and calls out for me to come nearer, I'd imagine you under the gleaming sky in the shades of gold, the colour which I would last see and ultimately merge into before approaching him. For the God of poetry knows what is takes to make an epic poem- sacrifice and love.
~Divisha Gupta
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If I climbed the stairs into a menagerie of divine artefacts where each one shines brighter than the last, I would still keep my eyes at the standby, skimming through the rows and columns of endless glitter, walking through the Elysian sculptures, waiting for a glimpse of the most divine art I've seen- you.
~Divisha Gupta
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They're the poets that wish to escape the cage of pain and love, without the fear of being ensnared elsewhere.
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They understand how they're a bunch of metaphors, museums of things that are forgotten but are breathing air
They're the poets that wish to escape the cage of pain and love, without the fear of being ensnared elsewhere.
(6/6)
Divisha G, poets that wish to escape.
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The rods that, in the light of love, shine amber
are made of poetry, with edges sharper than a dagger
They pierce and listen to the creatures' scream in pain
While viewing them rhyme it with another songbird's serenade.
(5/6)
Divisha G, poets that wish to escape.
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These caged birds know a beauty too forlorn, a beauty that appears and which in a moment is gone
But the trapped ones know how to cage the beauty of the unseen-
By decorating the barbed rods with them, reflecting all the love within.
(4/6)
Divisha G, poets that wish to escape.
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For they've been in the loneliness of the night,
learning to admire even the ugliest sight.
And the moon, it shines like the mother to the stars
and the stars shine back, despite her craters, her scars.
(3/6)
Divisha G, poets that wish to escape.
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Everyday while wishing to flee in the sun for a while, they are washed over by the dappled sunlight. Every night, they meet the moon in a new form, see the blemishes on it too clearly. But they are still enchanted by divinity, the peace with which it watches over them and the pull of the moon.
(2/6)
Divisha G, poets that wish to escape.
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