Valentine's Month Poetry Recommendations 💌

The duplicitous world has set enough examples of how self-love doesn't portray selfishness rather selfishness portrays self-love.

Shayan Das

Trust me, it's not what you've lost that matters, but what you're losing while lamenting over it.

Shayan Das

What’s the worst color that was ever invented?

And why do we need to deem something as inferior to make another one look superior? Well, you may argue that's how this world works, right? We reap contentment costing someone else their own joys, see someone garnering milk and honey making someone else poor, and so on and so forth. Back to the track, I consider no colour to be the worst, assuming each one possesses its own intrinsic value and radiates its own distinctive nuance to the palettes of nature. I remember my mother once said to me that there are two kinds of people based on how they perceive beauty. A profusely large number who search for everything in beauty in hopes of finding a home and a far smaller number who search for beauty in everything and find the home naturally. And little did I know, the latter will bring out the poet in me.

Thank you so much for asking. Wish you a great day/evening/night ahead <3

The poetic urge to draw an analogy between every one thing with every other thing in the universe.

Shayan Das

Keep kissing me with your lips, embracing me with your arms and crushing me with your thighs until I eventually melt and start flowing through your veins.

Shayan Das

"And what makes a poet so different?" the girl enquired and the boy replied with a smile on his face, "You can end an eternity gazing at the ceiling and doing nothing".

Shayan Das

Every road I abandoned is the shortest that leads home today; every star that slipped added some more nights without sleep. The things I battled for are today in battle against me; the birds I pursued are the birds I left behind. "Maybe you never had a dream, and if you did have one, you never believed in it", I heard my friends saying, and all that I remembered were the saplings that were uprooted and planted on lands where most of their kinds thrived, the mouths that were shut with examples of stomachs that dried, the legs that couldn't fold themselves to keep the heads high, and the heads that were taught to dream but never offered the chance to dream freely.

Shayan Das

Flawed Perfection by Shayan Das

"Your grandfather and I've been together for 56 years", said my grandma one night while showing some tattered photographs from her shabby album. Her eyes sparkled as she went by each page, narrating their first meeting and reliving her girlhood. I picked up one and asked after some time, with a thrill of stupefaction, "What held it, what helped the love between you and Grandpa last so long? ..." "What shall hold love", she chuckled, her eyes still glued on the photographs, as if trying hard to forget about the ephemerality of young romance. "What shall hold love", she continued after a pause, "when love's supposed to hold us? At first, I thought I loved him. Well, I did, perhaps not once but countless times, in a multitude of ways. In fact, he loved me with the same sincerity. But what's more essential is that each time we loved one another, we felt we were loving ourselves. When I trusted him, I felt I was trusting myself; when he promised he would make my dreams come true, he worked all night to make his dreams come true. His pains were my pains, and my insecurities his. When I thought I'd lose him, I felt I'd lose myself; every time he found I was contented, his joys would know no bounds. Throughout our lives, we were busy saving ourselves and ended up protecting each other". 

Shayan Das