welkin

Tejasvee Nagar, India

welkin is melting as they say,
welkin is falling.
welkin may walk that mile.
for dusk to approach gradually with it's colours.

If I was a better poet,
I'd describe every shade stroked through a paint brush.
but it's really just colours splashing and falling,
colours showing.
so I call it an unintentional masterpiece.
welkin walk me home as I am scared of the dark.


I believe there are layers ringed around the eyelashes of earth,
and oh you pluck one,
but you see the clouds burst asking you to stop,
gulp the pain,
you'd see the thunder awaken.
you'd see the no of eyelashes simply lessening.

I don't know how many layers do I need to climb,
to find the steps between sky and the space.
Maybe a lot than conceptual thinking,
but I keep climbing,
welkin I need to be a planet with wings.

and when I reach the mountain,
on earth oh mighty land.
I find orchards of various types.
vineyards clinging from a distance,
one star falls over another from my eye,
but in reality they don't.
if they do you have a collision,
that leads to a conclusion.
So don't let the stars be in your palms when you know if they barge,
their hands might burn.

the sky at 6 pm is leaden misty,
because I am uphill.
Hoping to see the space through a telescope.
I'd have a glance at night,
when the transformations glow through the dark and so do I.

the sky currently is hollow,
an abyss and I am leaning to watch the day bleed.
a lonely orange in a gruesome orchard do I see,
it's trying to move away being pulled.

but maybe the only orange in my orchard,
has similar ones into the space.
and on some other planet,
if they do exist,
people like me.
they'd think the lonely orange there is melting,
but let me tell you the space looks like a moonlit garden.
so welkin walk me to the space,
I need to tell them that there are thousand splendid suns (oranges)
and thousand splendid orchards.

//there's something sour about sunsets,
and it's aftertaste so pungent.
But I carry the moon on my lips,
and kiss the tangerine away.
you are lovely darling//
waiting for another sweet day, collapsible afternoon, sour sunset and sweet night

Tejasvee is a 19 year old Indian writer, who writes naturalistic poetry mostly. Their pronouns are he/they/she. They love to write poems and read novels.