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Stuti Shree


The Scarlet Water: A poem on freedom and its consequences.

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6 months ago
6 months ago
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The Scarlet Water.


Craved for a rebelling brink

In this bubble of perfection

Wrapped in a blanket so shrunk

Fragile consoling deterioration.

She, a coy feathery being in a dungeon

Singing a melancholy on a metallic twig

Dies a zillion deaths in a moment

Fancied a reviving breeze in a gig

These silvery bars capturing her

Ceasing her to eat the golden grains

Such sympathetic seeds weren’t her need

Never wanted to be ordained!

All was a want to jeopardize

To endanger her blood and bone

A drive to realize

The thrill to escape alone.

Looking on her winsome feathers

Trying to flip and flap it

When all falls down in shatters

As she saw rustiness in her plumage and spirit.

The Dawn was ahead

But no journey of grain to find

Too much cold once burnt her

And now too much light blinds.

She shifted feebly in her cage golden

Which seemed like a thorny rose

Wanted to flee far now

Get out of this silhouette show.

Memor of the free dusks and dawns

Rewind in her thoughts

Sought to be with her beloved ones

To achieve the blazing shine.

Maybe her decision was late

The fate had already else decided

She chose to dare or die

Forgetting life and death were just coincided

Her feathers flapped against the bars

Bruises got worsened

Sweat was pouring like a shower

Maybe this was the end.

As she kept fighting with the inanimate

Drops of her unsullied blood flew

Down was kept a watery bowl of ferrate

Which tasted her drooped droplets few

Coin of fate flipped for her with a nyctophlic love

An enslaved soul left the shape

Olive leaves were taken form that dove

She assumed her freedom was just sour grapes.

Soon another same comes flying

Sat on the reddish bowl

Understand the maxim it was saying

Around must be a cheesy fowl

Sensed quivering kenopsia in the cage hung above

Standing behind was the trapper

Took her in his palms so serrated

Afraid her, was ‘bout to shatter

The freedom is exorbitant she thought

Contused the culprit with her beak

Fumbled he as she fled away

To her falling apart was for weaks.

Jouska of the act so evil

Played as she emerged out of dark bowers

A vow was taken in her mother’s demise,

For a revenge of the scarlet water.

Written by Stuti Shree

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