Poems published in Muse India

I am excited to share that my four poems, ‘ The Shooting Star’, ‘In the Dreams’, ‘ An Anxious Mother’, and ‘ Your Soul’ have been published in a literary e-journal, Muse India. It has a primary objective of showcasing Indian writings in English. The journal offers a wide range of literary forms- poetry, essays, short stories, conversations with writers and book reviews. I am filled with gratitude to see my work on the website. I’m thankful to the editors and the entire team of Muse India.

Here is the link to the new edition released recently http://www.museindia.com/Home/ViewContentData?arttype=poems&issid=94&menuid=9230

Happy blogging!!

Bhavya Prabhakar

Struggle

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My pen is shaking

I am agitated

My notepad is topsy-turvy

With the struggle

I revere the most

In this bloomy air.

 

The confusion relies

On my pen

Am I writing sense

Where are the words

What come before

And after.

 

My thoughts agree

With the struggle

I revere the most

My pages are strewn

Around haphazardly

To show unity

In the process

Creating the signature marks.

 

My pen is shaking

I am agitated

With the struggle

Feeling the goosebumps

When the nib

touched My hands

In the hope

Of the love.

 

The struggle

To evoke the philosophy

To create fusion

To dwell on the pages

With the same intensity

When I think of you.

 

I revere the most

the struggle, my pen goes through!

 

Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar



PHOTO BY PEXELS

PURITY

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 He peeled his skin, to see if

the blood has same purity as

the redness in his eyes,

the fact is silent

in the moonshine.

 

Purity has which colour

red or white

or is it because of the wine

He coloured himself red, to see if

He feels the purity as

the pure love in her eyes.

 

Felt so lost

to find this purity

was once there in her eyes,

he travelled to mountains, to see if the

he could find that colour

of purity in his own eyes.

 

Purity is playing games

or the game is to be pious

craving to fly to the moon

with her profound purity

still so lost,

to find that sparkle

in the blinking eyes.

 

He pulled his hairs, to see if

the hairs fall like he falls

to find the colour

the colour denied its presence

in front of purity.

 

“No colour can define me (Purity)

I am having colours of my own

keep changing

according to the beliefs 

of the unknown.”

Copyright Bhavya Prabhakar



PHOTO BY PEXELS