My poetry

 ~o~o~o~

I was made a bonsai.

I was a sapling who reached out to the sky with my arms, and shared my fruit with all.

I was shamed for the promiscuity of my little branches, and taught that the only way to survive, is to pot my roots, and shape myself, with a snip her, a burn there, till I became a perfect bonsai.

And if you wondered where my compassion went, this was all I had.

But life took me toward towering banyans, which did not mind the thousands of creatures that nestled in their loving branches,

And I realize I have the choice to break my pot, stretch my roots into mother earth,

And pass on her strength through my fruit.

~o~o~o~

I like this concept of Log b a = 0.

B cannot exist for any value of a other than 1, and when a is 1, b can be anything.

Poetic, aint it??

B says to A: If you aren’t the 1 for me, then I don’t care for you. But if you are the 1 for me, than I can be everything to you !!

  ~o~o~o~

Often, the poems we call beautiful

are not the ones with the most depth,

but the ones that reflect our own thoughts.

Same applies to intelligence and people.

 ~o~o~o~

  

As the days pass

I have learnt to see

Through a gaping hole in fabric,

A piece of blue sky.

 ~o~o~o~

  

Is it enough that I love you,

Or do I have to say I love you

On saying which, do I have to

Straddle the heaven and earth

And bring you a black orchid

As proof of my love?

I cannot give you anything

But my love. I can’t dance,

But I can arrange flowers.

I also know to watch out for

A Love that is too demanding.