Tag Archives: #poetry

The Right Love

Oh my love, the right and last love of my life.
The way clouds start splitting up into small cotton balls and go fading,
giving clear vision of sky blushing with the brightest sunshine to the world,
in the same way you ended all my miseries by coming in, giving beautiful colours to my life.
Waking up with burdens has now been replaced with unexplainable happiness,
as you promised to give me loyalty and your time.
This love is so divine, so soothing, and so blissful.
I’m longing for the passionate feel of being wrapped around your arms;
but it makes me long for more whenever you’re not around.
Hot balls of fire striking my head while you move from me,
adding burns to this fragile heart and taking away all my peace.
This isn’t a let-it-go kind of bond,
but a bond that deserves standing by and accepting the hardest pain.
Wanting to be with you forever could be my only everlasting wish now and always;
I want to hear you breathe, sense your instinct, feel your touch, and completely inhale all the love from your soul.
I just want to scream to the universe about my dreams with you, and stand by you to make all your wishes come true.
Just like how snow pours out slowly and slightly but covers the land fully,
I want to shower bits and pieces of good moments on you and make your life complete.
You make me go crazy, and it’s worthwhile to travel every moment of life with a person like you.

© Yashica Priya

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Breastfeeding

(World’s Breastfeeding Week; August 1 to August 7)

Cute little soul,
wrapped inside my arms.
The soft fragile head with fluffy baby hairs,
tiny fingers and toes,
and silent breathe with a raw fragrance on body,
giving me sweet gestures on my lap.
I understand that empty tummy whenever I’m given special glance from my baby.
I eat food to secrete enough milk on my breasts for my baby.
Every drop of milk that I give is filled with enormous love.
I wake up at least thrice in the middle of the night to breastfeed.
I don’t sleep properly but I don’t care,
because all that matters to me is my baby’s health.
I crave for rest but try to push out those thoughts from head.
My nipples become sore,
and ache everytime my baby sucks in milk.
They’re not just milk but a strong magic.
It makes my baby’s skin glow by nourishing.
I wear comfortable clothes accordingly
so that I should be ready to unbutton them anytime when my baby is hungry.
A strong bond is built between both of us,
as we share happy stories at those intervals.
A year so close with my child, and
the warmth and love shared would last for lifetime. ❤️❤️❤️

© Yashica Priya

Old Age

“Did you see my skin?
Did you notice my wrinkles?
I don’t matter to everyone like before.
I rarely get attention;
and sometimes not at all unless I ask.
I don’t run to the kitchen these days,
as I couldn’t do that with this energy.
My joints ache so badly,
but I don’t complain to anyone.
I slip down most of the time,
because I’m not able to balance myself.
I wear a simple faded cotton jacket on my lose skin.
My muscles shrunk;
my hair turned grey;
I started losing my memory.
The scars are the deep wounds inside my heart that nobody listens to.
I still remember that pretty face when I was eighteen.
I have surplus amount of love for my family,
but sometimes I break down as my days come to an end.
I long for peace;
but mental agony of loneliness haunts me.
I want to live so much here forever,
and unfortunately there are a handful of medicines on my table.
I’m preparing myself for the last day.
Please don’t cry when I leave, but miss me at least once sometime.
Maybe when you see my bed empty,
or when you see my walking stick on the corner of a wall,
or when you look at a family group photo,
or when you see my favourite old song.
I love you all.” ❤️

© Yashica Priya

Emotional Blockage of a Single Mother

(Suggested by a friend)

Here’s to a single mother, who is emotionally depressed and mentally getting stronger.
Oh, she is beautiful and simple.
Pretty by face and more beautiful by heart.
Life shouldn’t had done this,
so cruelly.
The hands that’s been holding her wasn’t there anymore.
A sudden struggle with the flow of regular lifestyle.
She’s now the one who wipes the tears of her children when she herself is crying to sleep peacefully.
She wakes up in the middle of night to check if everyone is fine.
She accidentally dials to her husband, and then realises he’s no more.
She doesn’t eat healthy, yet prefers to make the best meal.
She’s killed alive with the sympathetic gaze from others.
Left all alone, to raise her daughter.
She blames herself for no reason.
Something often reminds her of her husband, and she simply wipes away her silent tears before anyone could see.
A sense of a strong soul is always around her.
The passionate presence of their past togetherness.
She loved dressing up in her man’s favourite colour saree, but now she’s hiding them all inside the wardrobe.
“She leads a normal life now”, everyone says.
No I don’t; I really don’t“, she whispers to her heart.
She takes care of an entire family without a support system.
She developed all the superpowers to build a happy paradise.
Is it their daughter’s fault to had missed her Hero?
Maybe it’s time for her to be the woman of the beloved family which her dad always wanted her to be, because she deserves nothing less, now or anytime later.

A feeling of compassion?
No; not at all.
I’m so proud of them.
Both of them are just Angels without wings.
So much love, dedication, simplicity, and hardwork. It surely would pay them miracles and blessings in future. ❤
Few people leave us soon because the world doesn’t deserve good people here. 🙂

© Yashica Priya

Heart and Soul

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(Just a thought)

She sat in the corner of the room,

asking where her happiness died.

The hunger of joy giving less hopes to life.

She cried to herself, all day long.

Nobody lent their ears,

adding injury to her fears.

Left alone and all alone,

she was paid a penny to her thoughts, at the drop of a hat.

Beating around the bush, changing pain into pleasure,

she felt honoured to be his last wish.

She stopped weeping over the split milk,

as her Prince charm costed an arm and a leg in a time of blink. 💋

© Yashica Priya

At the Beach, Alone

(On an imagination)

Beside the shore, I sat on the beach sand;
I noticed the waves rolling in and out.
The boats were at rest,
and tiny crabs playing hide and seek.
It was such huge sky, I looked up to.
The cold breeze hit my face,
making my hair messy,
as I started building my little mud house,
recollecting a part of childhood days.
With a feeling of a so-called architect,
to had built a cute building,
I see grains of sand covering the watch dial.
I dusted and rubbed them down,
and got up from there.
Whilst taking a few steps towards the sea,
I lifted up my white pyjama a little upwards.
A roar from the sea,
I saw a huge wave rushing near calming down,
and touching my feet for no reason.
It gave me a sense of getting pulled inside,
like wanting me there forever.
This felt to me like someone making me believe of promises,
and getting me drowned alive.
Consciously, I took a few steps back,
with a smile,
believing that I saved myself from an error.
I looked at the watch,
and decided to leave.
I put the sling bag on my shoulder,
and started to walk with mild thoughts on head.
Every step I took away from there,
I kept turning back to see my mud house.
On my last view on that,
all that I saw was my mud house being stamped on by people,
just like how dreams go shattered by mysterious circumstances.
I learnt that wherever we go,
all that we leave are footprints, and all that we carry are memories. :’)

© Yashica Priya

The Wedding Promise

I would like to wake up early that day,
as my wedding would be all set to happen.
To enter into a man’s life,
seeking the smoothness of togetherness.
The breeze partying hard and the dark waves spilling on the sea,
giving the satisfaction he’ll be right next to me.
I’m longing for being paved around his arms,
setting fire to the signature hugs.
I would forever wake up to reach his feet,
and feel the intense touch of my love.
There lies a hope in my heart that we’ll remain to be the best couple in our 80s,
floating in the stream of happiness.

© Yashica Priya