Ankita Sharma

Ankita Sharma Poems

Perhaps there's nothing to reach
Life tells it stories and fights to teach
Moments come and go
Reaching high and low

As if awoken from a deep sleep;
I feel a deep liking for you

I sit and gaze at stars so blue;

Life can never say what death said,
I was far more wise on my death bed
Getting wiser till my last breath
And wiser still after death

The world is a chapel
The sky is the God
I am the heart
And its tears the only rain-drops, the only rain..

I am the centre of everything
I am the whole
Everything should start with me,
Start with the soul

Just let me sing to you in the commotion of love
The angels are laughing away,
As the stars die above
My fingers are red and my heart is all blue

I stand before a wash-basin
I'm crying for the life I've been chasing

The cries of the flesh are not heard

I see him walking
Those wild eyes,
And his desires haunt the skies
The man looks up with dark feelings

Bring me in
From great skies and seas
Bring me in
Sweet birds sing on trees

I want to bury myself away in an enormous and vibrant temple
I say death, and all the flowers come in
And flowers don't feel anymore

There she attained enlightenment through poetry, here we dangle with the baleful probability of God
We go to movies and dinner halls - (and think that she was odd)
Life was pain for her..
Here it is nothing but bubbles of joy that will burst...

Everyday I sat in gloom,
In the corners of my room
And there I shed those tears
That awaited to come for years

Ankita Sharma Biography

I want to say something, and my head happens to be working.I am not a writer, and don't aspire to be one. I don't want to be a screw in the machinery of the society. Strangely, I don't like the idea of being an expert.It means you're adept at the mechanics of something, isn't it? And then you'd be sitting on a chair someday with your face gone old and straight like a tree, grumbling, but you're an expert, and you think that's all. The world is full of too many rules.Practice...all of the life out there is based on mere practice.My heart sort of jerks at then prospect of a mechanical life, even if it means being good at something. There's also the question of living life, standing up to yourself, looking straight...But then again, looking straight is too staid, too ugly..)

The Best Poem Of Ankita Sharma

An Elaborate Nothing

Perhaps there's nothing to reach
Life tells it stories and fights to teach
Moments come and go
Reaching high and low
Everyday new and retarded
Finished the way it started
Helpless longings grow
Everybody imagines a sun inside him,
Wants to reach that glow

A rabid individualist with gun on his shoulder
A kid knowing nothing, and still growing older
The whole sun sets and the world grows colder

Life an over-flowing cup
The black wind blows, and your time is up
Heads decorated with golden crowns
Little people with ups and downs
Small people moan and groan;
Praise the pig and throw the stone

Reject all meaning and everything
A little human that lacks a wing
All dreams are dreams
All forms are forms
Once freedom breaks-
You're free of norms

An upward blue
And fading light;
Origin of a deeper night
And two is two
But one is one
There is no heart,
There is no sun

A thinking demon comes to fight
Tells what's wrong, denies what's right
Plagues multitudes that lie below the light
Kiss cruel conclusions without that sight
And rise in the morning, and fade at night

Big yellow masses come with flowers in their hand
Dance in magic before they understand
And life is tragic, life is bland

Murdered in youth by an addicted sleuth
The pain comes over and over
Living seagulls and melancholies
An explosion bottled inside

When kings find magic
When a peanut finds a bird
When the filth is fixing beggars,
And a losing sound is heard

Happiness is a vegetable-
Makes some mad, makes some stable
And everything is just an elaborate nothing

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