The Few Creators : Creating Creators

I stood there in the middle of nowhere, looking up at the tall trees as they made sounds in order to seek my attention. I didn't know What this place and the things that lived here were doing to me, but I was more drawn to these woods than I was ever to home. Sometimes I ask myself if I am built in this way or it's just a phase, that want to stop at each corner of every place weird, strange, beautiful or sad, and take notes of the happenings there just like I do when surrounded by people, I want to be able to tell them what they should know about themselves, and make them realize that they are just not appreciating them because it's themselves! It's strange as I say it now, however, then when nobody was there to judge me on stopping for minutes and doing nothing but staring at the trees, one at a time, and noticing silly things like its rough yet royal bark or the way their solidarity creeped under my skin and made me feel as if I was trespassing their territory-

Elusive Thoughts My soul's a stir of energy drinks, And reflections of the moon light. I lie to the ground before Taking flight off towards the silver lining In the spotlight. When I let go of the dragger hanging From my mother's heavenly edges, As a child, the only thing I feared was Ifl ever could do things the right way. And when ld finally do it right, There would be the enormous sky Looking down at me. It wasn't enough, I wanted a human heart: To tell me what I must not and must've. Not the wordless glance I see that my past Has moulded me into a thoughtful, Careful and kind. So lask, if it is okay to feel inane; To be empty from inside Yet shaped finely from out? Is it okay to be drunk on caffeine? ~ Pushpanjali.

TO ME AND YOU Somewhere a part of me wanted you to be still To pin you down into paper That you'd never be able to leave me But you faught your way out my word play, r'd pull your fingers into a hold to calm you down So you could stare at our hands In the dim, as if we're forbidden to touch And I'd get a change to see how you blushed, Before l'd return home with that art in mind And warmth in soul Trying to give birth to my version of you into a poem: But failing miserably each time. You werelike a broken bowl of sand and beads Spilled on the mattress of my mind It felt as if you spread and caught Every inch of my thoughts, That patience alone couldn't do away. ButI wasnt planning on picking up the beads, Rather 'd sit on the messier part of the mattress And write poems about how beautiful the mess was Even though I couldn't explain how it looked, r'd call it beautiful for it is. Even thoughI

Poem - #3 | Painting With Emotions It's all coloured in pretty pink the sky And I somehow make myself calmly sit So that the restless nerves throbbing all over my body Could figure out a way to quit. There's soft jazz soothing my mind And soft pastel colors smudged on my hands As I paint on white sheets a growing moon And a little hazy start as a company. I kind of go restless at the thought of the night ending Even though there are hours to go for the end But the star in my painting fidgets To let me know that its gonna be there As long as I keep this sheet with me. The pink shade drenched out from the clouds I am unsure if I should get up from my seat My nerves are somewhat calm now The jazz turns into blues And my painting lingering with a star Near the growing moon: I wake up next day and watch my comfort star. I think will keep this painting forever. ~ Pushpanjali.

Poem - #2 | Resentment I wanted us to be the hold my hand couples While walking down the street, Even if it's to the nearest shop. Who assume the other is mad If they don't lock fingers that well. I wanted him to tell me That he loved me every once in a while Like he doesn't mean it that much But once in a day, I also wanted him To look me in the deepest corner of my eyes And light up fireworks as he tells me How much he valued me I wanted clichès, Night walks to the grocery store Eating too much cold dessert And spoiling one another. And falling asleep in between pillow fights. Sometimes I think I wanted too much. ~Pushpanjali Forth I leap to the land which calls me, Hovering a red flag. The symbols of the worldly signals Couldn't have worked 'round here, I thought. Somedays I sit aloof from the crowd, I know, I have come here with a purpose But the signs don't show, no more. Do I not need someone to make me