Portrayal of the Eyes




The brown dot

Immerses peacefully in the white sea. 

The quiet creepers 

Spread off like an algae, 

While the black blob 

Stands, lost, 

With its boat, 

Wandering aimlessly. 

Those eyes are quiet artists-

They portray an art 

Every single second, 

Which the viewer either embraces

 Or ignores. 

Thousands of eyes meet ours,

Exchanging masterpieces

Torn with edges of pain,

Or dilated like a tranquil evening, 

Or running from nostalgic whispers, 

Or resting in clouds of love, 

Or restraining to pour out. 

Our eyes gave up on words, 

Choosing a path of creativity. 

But, who will explain to them, 

That art is harder to comprehend,

And easier to be left alone. 

Yet their portrayal never fades, 

They try their best, 

As if breaking from a prison, 

Screaming so loudly, that we can't even hear. 

At last, they turn mundane, 

Depicting just a white show, 

Sometimes watering in the dark, 

Sometimes staring a blank space. 

You will ask me that, 

Why did such great narrators 

Fail to entertain a huge audience? 

But I will interrogate that, 

Why did we fail To understand a craft, 

That was dying 

Right in front of us?


Hello world, I'm pursuing Fashion Designing from National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT), while being a writer by heart. Even though I'm freelancing as a content writer, penning down poems and quotes are my ultimate source of peace.

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