Best prosepoem Shayari, Status, Quotes, Stories

Svetlana Saraswat

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/ Bearing Fruit / Lemon seeds have been sown in the soil of my stomach. Fresh green leaves have sprouted from my ears, nose and mouth. Sunlight and water has rained, rained heavily on my hair. The leaves are always dripping wet. They smile with content. I never write with an empty stomach. ( READ FULL PROSE POEM IN CAPTION) / Bearing Fruit / Lemon seeds have been sown in the soil of my stomach. Fresh green leaves have sprouted from my ears, nose and mouth. Sunlight and water has rained, rained heavily on my hair. The leaves are always dripping wet. They smile with content. I never write with an empty stomach. The bark of my words always comes from a nourished tree. I am, too. Similar to a well-fed tree. Soon, flowers will bloom and people will see. I can afford the brightest colors. Soon, I’ll be bearing fruit and everyone will eat. I can afford the zestiest meals. While unpacking the gift of time, my woody hands paused to feel the deep hole of pain in my chest. It was widening with the abundance of awareness about my world. The sad and partisan things that happen to people with no lemon seeds. Or those with lemon seeds, but yellowing leaves. Or with green leaves but no flowers. Or with flowers but no fruit. To underfed trees. Their barks spilling ink, all blue and heavy, in a tongue the rest of us no longer have (or never had). We see the pages doused in ink and wantonly call it dry, blowing air to make their words soundless. #napowrimo #prosepoem #escapril

/ Bearing Fruit / Lemon seeds have been sown in the soil of my stomach. Fresh green leaves have sprouted from my ears, nose and mouth. Sunlight and water has rained, rained heavily on my hair. The leaves are always dripping wet. They smile with content. I never write with an empty stomach. ( READ FULL PROSE POEM IN CAPTION) / Bearing Fruit / Lemon seeds have been sown in the soil of my stomach. Fresh green leaves have sprouted from my ears, nose and mouth. Sunlight and water has rained, rained heavily on my hair. The leaves are always dripping wet. They smile with content. I never write with an empty stomach. The bark of my words always comes from a nourished tree. I am, too. Similar to a well-fed tree. Soon, flowers will bloom and people will see. I can afford the brightest colors. Soon, I’ll be bearing fruit and everyone will eat. I can afford the zestiest meals. While unpacking the gift of time, my woody hands paused to feel the deep hole of pain in my chest. It was widening with the abundance of awareness about my world. The sad and partisan things that happen to people with no lemon seeds. Or those with lemon seeds, but yellowing leaves. Or with green leaves but no flowers. Or with flowers but no fruit. To underfed trees. Their barks spilling ink, all blue and heavy, in a tongue the rest of us no longer have (or never had). We see the pages doused in ink and wantonly call it dry, blowing air to make their words soundless. #napowrimo #prosepoem #escapril

Harsh

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One thinks of the night when loneliness stood by one's door and watched one endlessly swipe right in search of the perfect match. And then, one thinks of the nights when loneliness stood by one's door and watched one make sloppy love with the match that was neither right nor perfect. When one had to wait for the first rays of sun to swipe the bare one on the left left and grab a Marlboro light with chai to let go of the night's damp air suffocating the mind. When until the dawn, one tossed, left and right, hollow, wasted, regretful but still waiting for the next as one continued to swipe right, bleary-eyed, with loneliness watching from across the bolted door concealing its hopeless smile. On loneliness & regret. #prosepoem #2015

One thinks of the night when loneliness stood by one's door and watched one endlessly swipe right in search of the perfect match. And then, one thinks of the nights when loneliness stood by one's door and watched one make sloppy love with the match that was neither right nor perfect. When one had to wait for the first rays of sun to swipe the bare one on the left left and grab a Marlboro light with chai to let go of the night's damp air suffocating the mind. When until the dawn, one tossed, left and right, hollow, wasted, regretful but still waiting for the next as one continued to swipe right, bleary-eyed, with loneliness watching from across the bolted door concealing its hopeless smile. On loneliness & regret. #prosepoem #2015