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Biswajit Tripathy

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White Chasing butterflies Lost in love's revolving door, a Monday merry-go-round, New faces, fleeting flutters, a love that never found Its roots, its depth, its solace, just surface, bright and brief. One day, the need for something more, a heart to bring relief, Arose, but all the partners, like phantoms, slipped away, Leaving her with emptiness on that lonely, shadowed day. For in this whirlwind romance, the focus went astray, Lost in the thrill of newness, love that wouldn't stay. Now echoes of past Mondays mock her in the lonely night, The truth, a heavy burden, love's not a passing light. In chasing fleeting pleasure, she missed the one, you see, The constant star that shines when Mondays cease to be. ©Biswajit Tripathy #SAD #btbytess

White Chasing butterflies Lost in love's revolving door, a Monday merry-go-round, New faces, fleeting flutters, a love that never found Its roots, its depth, its solace, just surface, bright and brief. One day, the need for something more, a heart to bring relief, Arose, but all the partners, like phantoms, slipped away, Leaving her with emptiness on that lonely, shadowed day. For in this whirlwind romance, the focus went astray, Lost in the thrill of newness, love that wouldn't stay. Now echoes of past Mondays mock her in the lonely night, The truth, a heavy burden, love's not a passing light. In chasing fleeting pleasure, she missed the one, you see, The constant star that shines when Mondays cease to be. ©Biswajit Tripathy #SAD #btbytess

Biswajit Tripathy

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Black Graveyards Lost in shadows, a spark starts to glow, A poem's born, hope's whisper in the low. Graveyards may be lonely, and woods may seem cold, But within the verses, a tale of hope unfolds. Words build a refuge, a haven from pain, Mending hearts fractured, washing away the rain. No longer trapped, we rise from despair's hold, In poetry's embrace, stories bravely unfold. A bridge of verses, spanning the unknown, Guiding us onward, leaving fear at its throne. Rhythm and rhyme, a soothing, gentle balm, Unburdening hearts, finding inner calm. Let ink flow freely, like a whispering stream, Unleashing the power of a poet's dream. For in this realm, where words paint the way, We transform darkness, into a brighter day. ©Biswajit Tripathy #btbytess

Black Graveyards Lost in shadows, a spark starts to glow, A poem's born, hope's whisper in the low. Graveyards may be lonely, and woods may seem cold, But within the verses, a tale of hope unfolds. Words build a refuge, a haven from pain, Mending hearts fractured, washing away the rain. No longer trapped, we rise from despair's hold, In poetry's embrace, stories bravely unfold. A bridge of verses, spanning the unknown, Guiding us onward, leaving fear at its throne. Rhythm and rhyme, a soothing, gentle balm, Unburdening hearts, finding inner calm. Let ink flow freely, like a whispering stream, Unleashing the power of a poet's dream. For in this realm, where words paint the way, We transform darkness, into a brighter day. ©Biswajit Tripathy #btbytess