Sometimes,
The moon in me gets
Shadowed under the
Everlasting sunshine
Of the images of silence
And sound of the music.
I keep trying to mince
My words into palatable
Fragments but the
Pragmatic part of myself
Amuses me with the burden
Of truth and jests about my
Failure to deliver the ocean
With a spoon just like
You can’t catch a space
Of stardust with a glance
Of blindness or can’t sync
Your beat to sonata
Rooted in idiosyncrasies
Of a musical prodigy.
by Anugrah Mishra
Anugrah, from 2021 batch, is the member of edboard with most exacting standards. He reads, plays guitar, writes poems - and that is when is unproductive.See more works from Anugrah
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Striking sunflower at the stroke of my brush