Announcement: The results of Wingword Poetry Competition have been declared.

A December Daydream

Sayak R Bera Sayak

Weaving in the thoughts of chills and shivers,
A smog drives me through a fog-like river.
While the surreal and unreal makes my mind cloudy,
I try to balance my soul on a mass-less string, between reality and drowsy.

A cold smoky liquid emerges from my eyes;
Wraps me like a serpent, I don't bother the ties.
My senses get numb;
My freezing lung
Inhales a chunk of ecstasy.
My body pulls my legs to the cloud,
My lips and eyelids get easy.

A fierce pluck on the string!!
Throws me up in the sky...
I hit the ceiling of the cosmos,
Where mould of reality intensify!

Thorny pearls
And shiny crystals
Pierced a dozen punctures in my organ and veins.
Reality is the prettiest; I learn to believe in the Impact of Violence!

I hang from that ceiling;
I see darkness through the walls!
My pupils expand for those ivory of Curls!
As I witness the creepiest beauty,
I feel my cravings lust!
They feast on softness,
And forgot the sense of Just!

Oh no!!
My slimy body
Drips down n slips down,
Little by little.
From the spears of pink and purple,
Moments later I fall
Into the depth of fathomless unreal.
I keep falling and falling, through the smokes and charm,
My heart gets tired of panic; It bothers no harm.

I see my body gunning to a whirlpool of emerald,
Wow! Is that a nova?

Not sure!
It's like cloud of feathers in the streams of light!
My soul begs for a break, from this eternal flight.
I hit something soft,
And my body bounces off,
Over a wrinkle of velvet.
I tried all my stops out,
To hold on an edge!

Climbing up the fur,
I walk in,
As I smell Lady Macbeth.
No, Babe!!!!
It was you! under the blanket!

1 comment

  • It’s awesome.


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