Clouded grey sky, Soft breezes touching the petals, vulnerable to breakage. The pollens running away in escapades, to places undisclosed, to narrate tales of faraway places, of secrets long kept hidden and closed. The raindrops kissing your lips, soothing your eyelids as you close them. Feathers of birds drenched and cold, scurrying for shelter; they sing the song of rain and cold. The pelting sound on the terrace, leads to interrupted sleep and dreams, in sheets wrapped around you. Hectic schedule, hurrying off to bus stops and auto-stands; the soft breeze is turning to a swishing sound, there might be a thunderstorm and lightning shaped like a Z. The blue tarpaulin flips up in the wind, and then stretches down, making a flapping sound. The airplane emitting buzzing sound, leaving behind a trail of smoke and memories alike. Tapping sound of rain on car windows permeates clouded view of denizens, walking along the pavement with faces hidden under their umbrellas; Facades of human nature revealing in time when the cloud disappears from the sky. I want to be lost in places, faraway, where dreams are woven and fairies appear even when Pandora opens up her box. @Nandini Sengupta

A yellow variegated leaf settles on the corrugated tin roof where dust is old and sticky; finds shelter nearby a dried coconut shell whose hair has shriveled up with time, the tough exterior has turned brittle. The leaf was once green with life and promise, was born beside a budding flower, is now old and alone darting for refuge. Torn off the plant during one cold wintry night in pesky mood; Shattered and somber, it lamented the days spent in youth and vigor; Feeble with time, its role is done. God has his ways indistinct to mankind, His presence is revealed in all forms dead and alive. The leaf is composed for its days are counted, will now merge in soil with Time- to be one with God Forever... By Nandini Sengupta @Metaphors_of_life

As nights give way to days, Darkness translates into the sunlight, Despair radiates into rays of hope, Frosty winter precedes joyful spring. Beds of tulips unrolled beyond eyes' reach. The chattering of happy birds Perched on delicate twigs; Exchanging glances of relief. Where verdant meadows meet The joyful azure sky, The vastness of divinity Spells boundless magic on our eyes. Butterflies romancing the flowers Infusing nectar of life. Soft breeze twirling a lass' tress Gently passes by. Children engross in flying kites In full fervor and excitement. Festive zeal enraptures The entire ambience. As days grow long, nights shorten New leaves spurt in deserted branches. Netizens revive from induced dormancy Into frolic and renewed enthusiasm. By Nandini Sengupta @Metaphors_of_life

The little black boat was there for long ferrying commuters to and fro; The oars were used by familiar cold hands, The boat made of wood and nails was rugged and firm; Pilgrims sat on it, leaving behind trails of memories- the incessant talks echoing in the river. The wooden deck trampled by soiled and hurried feet. The boat while anchored ashore waits for the next voyage; Solitary, it stands strong tethered yet resolute for it must carry on; For years it has done so, the little black boat was there for long ferrying to and fro. By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

I wish I could peruse your mind into the recess of my heart, where myriad stories find its own epilogue. I wish I could jump uphill clasping Jill's pail in my arms. Sit and gaze at the stars waiting for the whistling wagon as it meanders along the the craters on the moon. Every wintry night I wish I could walk barefoot till the coldness seeps into my soul. Dive into the ocean in search of that stone that could soothe every human wound. If stars were candies and heaven's the rug I would envelop them all for the children in us. If stars were candies I would dive into the ocean of books where I could read them all at a single look. Love would bloom where my eyes fell upon, my smile would heal every past we endure. **Dedicated to the child who resides within all of us. By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

Fumbling through those leaves Of the book I devoured, I endeavored to search my very lost soul- the purpose of my being the reason for living. As my fragile hands made those pages shine, the crazy words came alight: "I am the rhapsody of my song I am the bells of my charm, I am the dewdrops on my wet pages of conundrum, I am my own sunshine in bright daylight, I am the romance of that drizzling rain in flight, I am the fire of my rage that only placate with my inner sage. I am the creator, annihilator too, I am the sole traveler in my journey through." Neither for pride nor of conceit do I evoke these phrases, I have perceived them in many wavering stages. I am but a minuscule in this entire orbit. BUT To Him lies my source to Him shall I merge, His every creation is a marvel our eyes falter to decipher. A purpose we are born with that purpose must I unearth, A purpose to live with A purpose to celebrate for... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

That house stands there for ages on end- It's deserted and lonely, No human forms or shapes inhabit it anymore. Its crumbling walls and decadent floors speak of years gone by. The sketches on the floor, the broken tap at the backyard speak of children who once played at the now vacant open courtyard, are now residents to creepers and hedges nestling young birds who are learning to open their eyes. The beaming sunlight enters through the slits of windows which are closed forever trapping those infinite memories lest they escape by. Those high-end ceilings where once fans dangled from, are now ridden with holes, chunks of which have fallen with passing time. The house was once someone's dream, someone's blood and sweat- Yet, as ephemeral as life is, as it stands the tests of time, the house is now devoid of soul and purpose, of hearty laughter and joy, of guileless love and chatter. Screeching of pans, shouts of maids washing soiled clothes under that tap, broken by a ball thrown by a mischievous lad of the household are now long gone and forgotten. The table with lame legs in that small room, was once filled with books and inkpot is no more. That forbidden house of dreams is now deserted like an old... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

The irreconcilable distance traversed from the known to the unknown, familiar faces turning strange, the ink which once dotted the reality is now only a faded tale. Those unending talks and the bickering of the beloved, those unmet promises begetting unrestrained hopes, that long-awaited rendezvous is entwined in ropes. The frenzy, once part of being, are lost in the artist's canvas- which he now paints with colors of heal and laughter. What is the truth? he lingers on- the source or the creation that made it all? Was it just an illusion or a dream which never was- with every step, doubt spills forth. Loving thy life he moves on- those moments are but memories, those pains are lessons learned from. He accepts it with dignified calm within the recesses of his heart, the unknown is all known, the distance more intimate, the journey is more peaceful now. By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of _life

I prefer to be silent for now Silence is all I seek; The unaccountable images swirling around, I want to pause them for some relief. The void within dare to peek, how hard I try to shove them aside; The anguish I laid to sleep I fear, it's arising- from dormancy, it peaks. The steps I lead every day at times take me backward, the more I pull myself I get pushed thereafter. For this moment I want to be silent, For this moment I want to be me: Just the way I am just the way I feel free... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

In the autumn of the day when the crimson of the sun merges with the indigo sky, when raag Yaman reverberates with the sweet essence of the gale, the eccentric colors of your love smear me in a rainbow of ecstasy; makes me incapable to compose the poetry of our raptures- the reed awaits on the palm leaf all splashed and tinted. The fire of the glowing lantern douses with moving of the time, the raag is now faintly heard, the cinders of your frenzy still burn within the sinews of my heart, a string of the sitar gets broken as your hands play on mine rendering me helpless as I attempt my riyaaz; my restless mind searches for the rhythm and beats, all messed up with the syllables of your voice as it falls on the strings of my sweltering breath, your one enthralling glance is enough to last a lifetime... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

On the parched earth does she touch her feet, with closed eyes she joins her hands, in absolute subjugation to her Lord she dedicates her being- swaying her feet around, twirling her waist her unlocked wavy tress eclipse her face, the mighty force within unleashes its strength, her graceful gait gives way to a euphoric wildness; the tinkling of her anklets the jingling of her bangles as they fall off in places, the concord of the sounds sets fire on her countenance; the frenzy of her dance beguile the clouds in hide the sky appears dense and tight; the parched land satiates its long-awaited urge- down appears the rain in ecstatic surge; the creator is bemused in all revelry and surprise as she beholds her creation in front of her eyes. By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

Let me break the rules for a day Let me run in a slow motion like that in a movie Let me fly in a parachute on one rainy day Let me slide through the stream rowing in a canoe Let me break the sameness being so normal everyday Let my hair love my countenance as they swipe through the wild winds Let me make some hilarious mistakes after being always rightfully right Let me think of those bluebirds I read about it in my storybooks chirping their tales of love Let me hide behind that wall I lost note of in years Let me dive into the whirlpool of perpetual happiness Let me remember those friends I lost touch through the years Let me dance at the midnight tapping the wrong foot invisible to the critic's eyes Let me write a poetry out of rhythm and space Let me break myself free from my own meshes Let me allow the air to seep into my whole being as I Break Free with my Broken Wings... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life