The therapy called art #2

She lost her flowers to the gusty wind once,

Now she tries to find herself in the wind , under the flowers.

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The therapy called : Art 

( A painting that i made today,  which made me realise the beauty and power of art yet again. Though this isn’t a really great one but the therepautic nature of art never fails to manifest itself 🙂 )

Because art gives you moments where you loose yourself  and learn the art of conscious living.

From shackles to wings 

( This is a painting that i made recently ) 

​When the cage is too hard to break,

That everyday is making your smile fade.

But you continue to live like that, 

Fearing the struggle that can drive you mad.

Think about the  freedom beyond that cage,

Because that will give you the strength to find a way out through this maze.

Cage is common to every being , man has always been famous for feigning.

Animal or human , who is there  that is free? 

Bound by insecurities internal and external here stand , we .

Just like the bird we all wish to be free , 

but for that shackles need to transform into wings , 

to break our self created tainted claustrophobic rings.

Sky

( A picture clicked by me recently)

Because when the road is full of stones sky gives you hope  . 

When you feel the days are getting low , just give a glance up above and you will catch sight of infinity .

 Peaking through flowers or accompanying the stars,

Holding the sun’s rays and being bird’s home to stay.

Smiling silently  at this little creature .. who is busy counting the perishable stones in his way . Ignoring the sky  who was there all the time.

Dont touch me !

​Don’t touch me if the curves of my heart dont excite you like those of my body.
Don’t touch me if the bare  dirty uncouth feet of mine is something you cannot take.

Don’t touch me if you don’t find the hair on my skin as beautiful as those on my scalp.

Don’t touch me if my sweaty neck is not as alluring as my bare back.

Don’t touch me if the stain on my pants will make  you cringe and not love .

And don’t you dare touch me to curb my curves.

Touch me if you can like the wings touch the birds.

Touch me if you can to embrace my scars, like the sky touches the stars. 

Touch me if you can like the rain touches the mud.

And touch me if you can like the  canvas touches  a brush.

And if you can’t  , then don’t touch me at all.

Messy orderliness

Just like in life, order becomes mundane without mess to adorn it.                                 Chaos embelishes symmetry breaking the monotony.                                                        Its just the camera like perpective from a little distance that we all need , to set things just right.

Coffee Connotations

​In different forms on every table, 
I see how a new story begins to initiate. 

As i sit  on one  of them confiding mine inside the latte coffee by my side,

and a drawing pad trying to doodle something fine. 

In front of me is a bunch of chirpy friends who seem to have met after long,

In this sprinting world whats better than a coffee to cherish their bond.

And there in the corner sits a seemingly a  fledging couple,

Fiddling with each other’s feet with every sip they take.

And just next to their table is a young girl telling the tale of her breakup to her friend,   for her scars seem to crop up with this aroma in the air which is equally bitter as it is sweet much like the life we breathe.

And i see there the  aromas  of love and heart break in  coffee blend.

Just next to them is a women middle aged

Her experiences clear enough  by the wrinkles on her face.

Savouring  the cappicino she had  ordered as if  each other’s  strenghth  they both embrace.

And in another corner is a guy with his ambitious eyes glued to his laptop’s screen   drinking his cold coffee with brewing dreams 

As i turn i see a little girl with tainted  clothes but a face too cute to ignore   staring through the glasses looking with earnesty to this world beyond her reach 

I count the cash in my wallet and decide to bring her inside 

 and offering her a seat i order a coldcoffee and sandwitch hoping it will suffice  

And as she finishes with that content on her tiredface and the happiness in her much longed eyes i bid her good bye

and finally end my doodle with a line 

Coffee isnt just coffee for its a feeling  , a prologue to new stories , to new endings 

That we all  need to discover for our own selves . Cheers !

Myth of trap

( A picture I had clicked trying to capture the beauty of the sky in its unreachable infinity)

Black and blue the birds flew 
sprinting and chirping they had a green hue, 

unlike you and unlike me 

From far away they could see ,

life pass by everyday thought a man sitting in his room.

The bird watched the human as it sat on the bay,

doing things in a seemingly unique way.

From the window that was a prison like divide , both of them couldn’t slay.

Their eyes met and inside were sighs they couldn’t say.

Little did they realised that both of them were soaked  in the sun’s rays . 

Pursuing quests different , which just they could get,

 but enviousness did intersect.

Rising above

( This is a picture that i had clicked recently because this one lovely sappling in  between these purple leaves was something i found intriguing)

Because when this little plant can shine  in its greenery amongst the violet leaves so can we all. Because the ugly ducklings are never ugly , they are beautiful just different from the usual.

Light and dark

( this was a pic which i had clicked sometime back and is one of my favourites as it beautifully captures the relationship of light and darkness signifying how one exists  because of the other) 

Light why is it that you always try to absorb me ?
Dark : Because when you and me are together just nobody  notices me.