'Simplicity defines me, and yet I contradict its every aspect.'
Natasha lives, loves and laughs! : -) Forever chasing her dreams, some of which now find life in her poems. more »
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Natasha Sharma Poems
I must not write a diary, For then somebody will know; I will speak of you in my poems, Where, with rhyme, love will flow.
Elusive are the spaces where peace rests, What has Man gained after his troubled quests! He burned the World he set out to revive, Nobody wins a war, some just survive.
If I close my eyes, the night won’t be gone; Deep in the woods, there will be no dawn; I have journeyed far to lose you to the world, With memories that often break into a song.
Elements of Love
If I were Water, I would wash you up on the shores of the past; Where memories would fly by- some slow, some fast; Alas! I am but me,
I treasure those moments frozen in my heart, When I believed we would never part; Alas! Ages between us Time has swept, A promise was broken, a promise was kept;
Your hundred faults I wish to learn, Hoping that one will make me turn; Towards a world where we can never meet, Where our seeking eyes can never greet;
There were no promises made, No spoken words that with time would fade; He just took her hand and held it awhile, as he lay there in blood, forcing a smile.
The ink that traced my fondest thought, And carved in words what my lips said not; Lay frozen in the winter snow, My feelings ran wild, but none were caught.
Sometimes the faces change yet it feels the same, A new desire rekindles an old flame! Space and Time play a game with you, The present seems blurred, it's déjà vu!
In this world sublime, Beauty is frozen in Time. Above, the sky dazzles in light; Below, the colours seem lost in white!
This emptiness that I feel everyday, The journey of pain is still underway, The troubles I bear, why should I say! Things look so sullen with shades of grey;
As I See It
I watch people running an unknown race, I see them rise and sink to alter the pace; Changing with every season, Knowing not for what damn reason,
If only I could see you again, Love would be such a sweet pain;
The Evening Sky
On the evening sky the memories run, Chasing the moments that never begun; A picture perfect paints my heart, Tending to love is more of an art.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
I must not write a diary,
For then somebody will know;
I will speak of you in my poems,
Where, with rhyme, love will flow.
Lost chances will be tried again,
And with the pen in my hand, we may win;
In a world which is not to be,
Being together will not be a sin.
I will pour my heart in every line,
To every word I will be true;
If anybody asks for whom I write,
I will just smile and picture you.