Best Verseworth Shayari, Status, Quotes, Stories

Bharath Nandibhatla

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I stand before a ferocious bay, trying to hear that silence it would say. It's almost twilight, yet my heart's delight. The waves roar, birds soar. The sky leaves a hazy silhouette, and the water would timely wet. Chaos above and Chaos below, but immense bliss within. Yes, to relate to life's deep metaphors in the depths of the mighty ocean. The horizon greets me from beyond, but an ocean stands between us. The sun sets in the sky, but the bliss within me doesn't. Maybe he rose within. Silence roars in joy, noise could but only murmur. As I stand along this beach, there's only one thing I beseech: "I realise the treasures are buried deep, and the humanity in us, is but skin-deep. Let's transcend the faith in contemporary time, and revive the wealth in wrecks sublime." Visit #Verseworth for more. Between the Horizon and Me.

I stand before a ferocious bay, trying to hear that silence it would say. It's almost twilight, yet my heart's delight. The waves roar, birds soar. The sky leaves a hazy silhouette, and the water would timely wet. Chaos above and Chaos below, but immense bliss within. Yes, to relate to life's deep metaphors in the depths of the mighty ocean. The horizon greets me from beyond, but an ocean stands between us. The sun sets in the sky, but the bliss within me doesn't. Maybe he rose within. Silence roars in joy, noise could but only murmur. As I stand along this beach, there's only one thing I beseech: "I realise the treasures are buried deep, and the humanity in us, is but skin-deep. Let's transcend the faith in contemporary time, and revive the wealth in wrecks sublime." Visit #Verseworth for more. Between the Horizon and Me.

Bharath Nandibhatla

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Rightly said 'Touch's the most primitive.' Few touch the life we live. Few touch our wounded space, with a big smile on their face. I laid my hand on you, felt your void, filled it all. Filled it with my love for you, freed from every thrall." I clasped his hand, that pale one. Now I knew, it had the light of the sun. Visit #Verseworth to read more of the series. #Touching (Part III)

Rightly said 'Touch's the most primitive.' Few touch the life we live. Few touch our wounded space, with a big smile on their face. I laid my hand on you, felt your void, filled it all. Filled it with my love for you, freed from every thrall." I clasped his hand, that pale one. Now I knew, it had the light of the sun. Visit #Verseworth to read more of the series. #Touching (Part III)

Bharath Nandibhatla

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"My hand, pale it may be, or maybe that's all you could see. But my hand, like yours, can feel everything that needs to heal. Men often say, 'Touch? Doesn't really matter much.' But this mighty universe as such, made its baby steps after a divine touch. The feel of a baby's skin so tender reveals you a part of this world's wonder. A kiss from your loved ones, could heal your sorrows all at once. When you're bound in an embrace, you feel the joy of all heavens and fays. Frozen with all the winter's snow, a feel of warmth from someone you know, you melt into your being and its fire within, a touch that could melt all your sin. (Contd..) Visit #Verseworth for more in the series. #Touching (Part II)

"My hand, pale it may be, or maybe that's all you could see. But my hand, like yours, can feel everything that needs to heal. Men often say, 'Touch? Doesn't really matter much.' But this mighty universe as such, made its baby steps after a divine touch. The feel of a baby's skin so tender reveals you a part of this world's wonder. A kiss from your loved ones, could heal your sorrows all at once. When you're bound in an embrace, you feel the joy of all heavens and fays. Frozen with all the winter's snow, a feel of warmth from someone you know, you melt into your being and its fire within, a touch that could melt all your sin. (Contd..) Visit #Verseworth for more in the series. #Touching (Part II)

Bharath Nandibhatla

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I saw him again,Sir Verseworth, this time, feeling a drop of dew. He laid his pale hands on me, and I felt a divine ecstasy. I trembled in utter joy and glee, as if my pinions were let free. I wondered how his pale hand suddenly became a magic wand. I was brave now, like a warrior. seemingly bound by no apparent barrier. A momentary feel of his skin, made me feel "All the world's my kin." Unable to decipher the magic behind, I tried my way into Sir Verseworth's mind. He smiled, reading my thought. He said "Mind's not the right spot. Peep into my heart if you can." But I wasn't him, I was just a man. The sage uttered words of wisdom: (Contd..) Visit #Verseworth for more of my poems. #Touching (Part I)

I saw him again,Sir Verseworth, this time, feeling a drop of dew. He laid his pale hands on me, and I felt a divine ecstasy. I trembled in utter joy and glee, as if my pinions were let free. I wondered how his pale hand suddenly became a magic wand. I was brave now, like a warrior. seemingly bound by no apparent barrier. A momentary feel of his skin, made me feel "All the world's my kin." Unable to decipher the magic behind, I tried my way into Sir Verseworth's mind. He smiled, reading my thought. He said "Mind's not the right spot. Peep into my heart if you can." But I wasn't him, I was just a man. The sage uttered words of wisdom: (Contd..) Visit #Verseworth for more of my poems. #Touching (Part I)

Bharath Nandibhatla

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As the leaves swayed at the wind, a wind that no longer brought the shiver, the mighty tree felt the fragrance of spring, oblivious to the chill that made its leaves quiver. As true it is, a flower comes to life in spring, so true it is, the winter was its womb. While the foliage endured the winter's brume, the flora stayed concealed, from the cold's sting. (Concealed in its bud-the floral womb). As the fog grew thin, arrived autumn. The leaves hit their rock bottom. Ruthless, it seemed of nature to behold the fruit of endurance. To endure the frigid winds, in silence and end up in the abyss of a dead future. But, behind all the fog lied a silver lining. As a leaf bid bye to the tree, new life sprouted at its node, to blossom at spring, alive and free. Visit #Verseworth for more. Winter's Womb.

As the leaves swayed at the wind, a wind that no longer brought the shiver, the mighty tree felt the fragrance of spring, oblivious to the chill that made its leaves quiver. As true it is, a flower comes to life in spring, so true it is, the winter was its womb. While the foliage endured the winter's brume, the flora stayed concealed, from the cold's sting. (Concealed in its bud-the floral womb). As the fog grew thin, arrived autumn. The leaves hit their rock bottom. Ruthless, it seemed of nature to behold the fruit of endurance. To endure the frigid winds, in silence and end up in the abyss of a dead future. But, behind all the fog lied a silver lining. As a leaf bid bye to the tree, new life sprouted at its node, to blossom at spring, alive and free. Visit #Verseworth for more. Winter's Womb.

Bharath Nandibhatla

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Look at it, all Black & White, just like victory and defeat, with a fine line in between. Corner the crippled King, you don't have to kill. Bring His army to a standstill, and you shall be their King. To corner is to conquer, mate.. the nemesis is a checkmate! Visit #Verseworth for part I and Part II. #CastlesOnEitherSides (Part III).

Look at it, all Black & White, just like victory and defeat, with a fine line in between. Corner the crippled King, you don't have to kill. Bring His army to a standstill, and you shall be their King. To corner is to conquer, mate.. the nemesis is a checkmate! Visit #Verseworth for part I and Part II. #CastlesOnEitherSides (Part III).

Bharath Nandibhatla

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Of all that fight on this battleground, the myriad Pawns are the virtuous. Pledging their life to His Majesty, these are powerful than you can see. Storm them into the other castle, and they can resurrect your lost army. They vivify the battle, create the hustle. They make the rattle, and as much stormy. Yet, unlike the wars fought on land, you don't always have to march ahead. You don't have to always kill, instead make a move after you take a stand. Devoid of revenge or vices, this is surely a war of the intellect. Visit #Verseworth for part I. #CastlesOnEitherSides (Part II)

Of all that fight on this battleground, the myriad Pawns are the virtuous. Pledging their life to His Majesty, these are powerful than you can see. Storm them into the other castle, and they can resurrect your lost army. They vivify the battle, create the hustle. They make the rattle, and as much stormy. Yet, unlike the wars fought on land, you don't always have to march ahead. You don't have to always kill, instead make a move after you take a stand. Devoid of revenge or vices, this is surely a war of the intellect. Visit #Verseworth for part I. #CastlesOnEitherSides (Part II)

Bharath Nandibhatla

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Castles on either sides. At war, were the blacks and whites. Oh, don't get me wrong, this isn't a racist song. Crippled Kings fight their way, with a well-guarded army. Queens have quite the say, and dare you to call that barmy! The Queens prance over the battlefield, guarding their Kings, safe and concealed. The Knights, chivalrous as they are, move in patterns, and not very far. While the Kings bear the Holy Cross, the holy Bishops cross their paths. The Rooks only head straight, mighty after a worthy wait. (Contd..) Visit #Verseworth for more of these. #CastlesOnEitherSides (Part I)

Castles on either sides. At war, were the blacks and whites. Oh, don't get me wrong, this isn't a racist song. Crippled Kings fight their way, with a well-guarded army. Queens have quite the say, and dare you to call that barmy! The Queens prance over the battlefield, guarding their Kings, safe and concealed. The Knights, chivalrous as they are, move in patterns, and not very far. While the Kings bear the Holy Cross, the holy Bishops cross their paths. The Rooks only head straight, mighty after a worthy wait. (Contd..) Visit #Verseworth for more of these. #CastlesOnEitherSides (Part I)

Bharath Nandibhatla

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Oh! he says he writes poems. He says he is jobless. Is he a Gobbledygook? "No!" he said, reading my thoughts. "Passion feeds my soul. Profession feeds my family. My soul is Well-fed, but my family lacks good bread." I couldn't get him for the time being. It took me a day to comprehend this human being. Rightly so, his name befits his style. His very fame was for his joblessness and his odd smile. Visit #Verseworth for the part I. #PassionOrProfession. (Part II)

Oh! he says he writes poems. He says he is jobless. Is he a Gobbledygook? "No!" he said, reading my thoughts. "Passion feeds my soul. Profession feeds my family. My soul is Well-fed, but my family lacks good bread." I couldn't get him for the time being. It took me a day to comprehend this human being. Rightly so, his name befits his style. His very fame was for his joblessness and his odd smile. Visit #Verseworth for the part I. #PassionOrProfession. (Part II)

Bharath Nandibhatla

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Sir Verseworth was his name and he was a man of much fame. But I never knew him though he was very well-known. His glass, with wine to the brim, relishing meat leaving the bone. He was at the other end of the table. And Oh! his mind was never stable. It was after he left, that I knew he's a famous person. I saw him again, his pen swift, over the paper with a style descent. I enquired about his profession. The answer came, "PASSION or PROFESSION?" Oh! Even his answer seemed to be a question. "As you wish, Sir!" I said. "As for Passion, I am a poet. As for Profession, I am nothing as yet!" (Contd..) #Verseworth #PassionOrProfession. (Part I)

Sir Verseworth was his name and he was a man of much fame. But I never knew him though he was very well-known. His glass, with wine to the brim, relishing meat leaving the bone. He was at the other end of the table. And Oh! his mind was never stable. It was after he left, that I knew he's a famous person. I saw him again, his pen swift, over the paper with a style descent. I enquired about his profession. The answer came, "PASSION or PROFESSION?" Oh! Even his answer seemed to be a question. "As you wish, Sir!" I said. "As for Passion, I am a poet. As for Profession, I am nothing as yet!" (Contd..) #Verseworth #PassionOrProfession. (Part I)