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Hena Paul

Poet since 1995 | Engineer In paper | Guitarist when the mood calls for it | Day Dreamer always |

www.instagram.com/themelancholypoet

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Hena Paul

These summers make me think about
the way we used to lay on the mud floors
in my grandmothers place, and watch whatever
plays on tv to fall asleep. These summers #english #summer #nojitoenglish

These summers #English #Summer #nojitoenglish

Hena Paul

#Poetry

Hena Paul

#Quotes

Hena Paul

#Poetry

Hena Paul

A Polterist

Like a polterist of words,
We threw hate at each other,
Vehement clanking of swords,
Sound through each slash of words.
Like a log caught in a whirlpool,
We got sucked into ambiguity,
Illusion of contentment in a cage,
Creatures happy in captivity.

#Poetry

Hena Paul

Lost Love

You did everything in your power,
To tell yourself his love is real.
His love for you is gentle,
His love for you is pure,
His love for you will last,
All the while, his love for you
Was the shadow your fear had cast.

Everytime you said I love you,
They were words you thought you mean.
Words from you heart,
Words real in your parellel reality,
Words said looking into his eyes.
Yet, they were an attempt
To convert your hearts truth into lies.

His touch was exciting in the start,
A feeling you never knew.
Drizzled by the glitter of rebellion,
A fire lit for the first time,
A zeal you thought was healthy.
But the fire burned out,
And His touch became a meaningless rut.

You did nothing wrong,
He did nothing to hurt you.
You would laugh and smile with him,
You would enjoy his company,
You would tell yourself it doesn't get better.
Yet, somewhere in your heart you knew,
He was not the one for you.

#Poetry

Hena Paul

The citadel was breached.
In broad daylight.
Intruded by an army,
Of flattering words.
Either sides ,
Were steeled to face,
The brutal fight.
But both sides lost the war

#Poetry

Hena Paul

No Reasons

No reasons emerge,
From the crepuscule of my mind,
When I try to submerge,
Into some form of a find,
A beginning to thoughts of this kind.

No validation of its veracity,
This thought that chafes my soul,
Bringing into question morality
Hampers my grip on reality,
Ennumerous concequences it enfolds.

No indication of its roots,
A fruit of my erratic conscience,
Child of societal rebuts,
Subject to demands of compliance,
Influenced by my peer groups.

No method to decipher,
A thought that constantly reappears.
Is it Voices of one wiser
Or the imbecile that still lingers?
To an idle mind a taunting whisper.

No reasons emerge,
From the crepuscule of my mind,
For the seedbed of this thought,
Nor its credibility.
This thought thats contrary to reality

#Poetry

Hena Paul

She couldn't tell why her heart was earning something else.
She had all that she wanted but a smile was somehow far from her face.
Haven't she done everything right? Haven't she given all of herself?
Yet she constantly finds herself peeping through a window for heavenly grace.

#Poetry

Hena Paul

MUDDLED

Muddled in a pit of decisions,
Struggling in the midst of a million visions.
Entangled in different ropes,
Various versions of the same reality,
Multiple sides to a coin that only I can see.

There's a voice calling out from within,
Which on perceiving makes my sight thin.
Yet again, theres a different calling,
Which ballot do I sing to?
What will keep me close and still away from you.

#Poetry

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