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  Mar 2016 Arvind Krish
Julia Quizon
Today, I am beginning
Only to end.
This body has blossomed in a field of green;
Has bled shades of red;
Stared at a horizon ablaze with yellow;
And now, this body will face
The bluest of skies.

Whether my skies are clear or
Consumed with droplets of rain,
I will always end up seeing
Nothing but blue.

Nothing but 10 shades of blue,
Until I see another sun set
Until a palette of colours are
Painted on the horizon
Until stars are forced to form constellations
Until a beginning of
A new morning.

But one day, my new mornings
Will not consist of
The bluest of skies.
There may be a hint of pink,
a touch of purple,
or a sliver of orange.

And that's okay.

Because weather forecasts were not meant
To only be clear blue skies and
Colours were not meant to have
Only one shade.

Blue possesses a fading beauty
Now unappealing
But never forgotten
It is THE last set of my own primary colours -
green, red, and yellow.
Once I set down this
Familiar brush dipped in
blue paint,
I will start anew with a
Fresh set of colours.

A clean canvas once again.

Today, I am ending
Only to begin.
thank you to my two best friends for pushing me to write again.
#smole
Arvind Krish Mar 2016
I'd rather write unknown poems
that no one would ever read
than shut myself to a living coffin.
  Mar 2016 Arvind Krish
gabriela
no celestial body
nor the silver lining of a solar eclipse
will ever compare
to the beauty of the curve of your lips
today has been really weird
Arvind Krish Mar 2016
Mild rain
the splashes of  browny mud
holi with dirt and water
tasting the soil
being merged in nature
the ignorant childhood in rain
diving to the bottom of rivers
fishing for bral and karimeen
the occasional frights from snakes
rain, raining rained.
holi is a festival of colors
bral and karimeen is the native names of fishes in kerala
Arvind Krish Mar 2016
Broken glass of a french scotch
stamped to the mysteries of a sand
loosed tie and and unanswered calls
The fears of tomorrow
He chose the doorway to death.

In the most heroic way
In the most romantic  way
To become a coward
To become a  maniac
As the daily's said.
life death
Arvind Krish Mar 2016
Notes of papers
modules, graphs, maps and scales
me lost in dreams of fairy tales
hard to count
rush to the exam mount
endless cups of coffee in vain
shallows, brooks of caffeine

The clock runs the marathon
eyes dead '
brain washed
Arvind Krish Mar 2016
A motherly cry
pierced head of a fetus
dried placenta.
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