Slow death to you my dear. Of dancing demons And sad spirits. Angels in hell, Demons of heaven Is death the epitome of existence? Is existence not slow death? A life of colours had I imagined. Imagination so rich It feels almost like reality. Reality is fantasy Fantasy is an illusion For things to make sense This poem is not for you It is for me. In a senseless world I find myself in What are mere words of sense, Sense, shall I not seek There's beauty in me. Slow death to you my dear. Shall your heart rest Amidst the waves of the Pacific Shall your soul be of souls Swallowed by the sand. Neha Bharali 🌻 (Remember me in November, when the cold bothers you, know it doesn't bother me no more)

Dead now like never before As if never alive Alive but only physically Alive but only for sake Living a death, Death of my own self. Foggy it is. A kind of cold that makes you shiver. There is no warmth No shelter to seek, Have I but not that I desire of. The year is ending, so am I. Neha Bharali 🌻 (Remember me, sometimes)

moon of memories messing with my mind moments of mirage messed up conversations within the mind mindful or mindless meanings do not matter malicious are memories morose is my mind my memory creates misery madness of my mind mercy, Mother Mary. Neha Bharali 🌻 (me and mine)

In a city where I don't know me. This city is made of feelings, Of things people feel Of feelings that have no words Of words that don't justify solicitude. This city with people screaming, Screaming in silence Heard only by me, Screaming with compassion Felt only by me. This city of stars, Lives made of stardust, Revolving in circles. Feelings of fear Stronger than affection, For love is so mere In a city so fierce. Neha Bharali 🌻 (Remember me dancing amongst the city of stars)

When I die, do not cry For only then will I find true happiness. When you see my cold dead body, do not be sad. Find satisfaction knowing that I'll no longer be mine. I'll go above worldly pleasures When I die, do not dress me in white. Bury me in colours, as bright as sunshine. Remember me as a poet, Give me a farewell, aesthetic. My life, In mere words. Spent in a false hope, A hope to seek what was never mine. Only to realize it will wait for me in the end, My soul would be watching you Laughing. For you would come to me only in the end, When I would want nothing more of this world, So hopeless, so lonely. हम जब हैं, तब हमारी कदर नहीं, हम जब ना रहे, तब तुम्हारी फिकर हमें चाहिए नहीं। भूल ना पाओ, इसी पहेली हूं में, कवि हूं मैं। Neha Bharali 🌻 (Remember me when I die)

Of my unnatural thoughts, sinking me down My persona; light and dark Of which do I resemble now? In this moment of nothingness I feel a sudden rush within. Of sense to make for myself to me What best describes me? The waves or the clouds? Thoughts within a mind of mess Nowhere do they belong. Hide and seek Between sane and insane Of which I am both. Remember me like a honeybee Sitting on a dead flower Remember me like the thunder Above the pacific Remember me like love Delicate and desperate. Neha Bharali 🌻 (One of many days of existing)

The sky above never felt so heavy. I guess we grow up faster than we realize. As a child the only feeling I knew was the warmth I received from a world unknown. This warmth has been missing for a long time now. To sum up, growing up is indeed sophisticated. We become more personal, more insane and lack love. With each passing day the realization of the world hits hard enough. This sky now seems to be fogged. Hopeless desires contrasting with reality. We become so used to not receiving love that we forget we can give love. We like to be sophisticated. I ask why? This sky is a burden. The sunlight brings agony. It is a life of constant desires. Letting loose is not something we can afford. So many people and so many faces, I don't remember any, just like desires from my childhood. What was it that made us happy? We like to believe we are cool. We live in the false perception of positivity. The only truths we like to believe are the lies we tell ourselves. What is more complicated? The unknown world or the mind within? This sky has become cloudy now. Will this sky clear up when I'm still alive? Neha Bharali 🌻 (One of many days of questioning the purpose of existence)

hide and seek with light and dark demons and spirits send me some love feelings haunt me in the form of shadows unearthly out of sympathy the end of humanity is the beginning of art putting my melancholy into a melody sing along sailers on the same shore live in peace living deads Neha Bharali 🌻 (what are we?)

Between reality and fantasy we are stuck. Running around with nowhere to reach, desires of a faint heart that will explode anytime now. It is so overwhelming to exist. Well we are not living, are we? To live we need love. Love, to say the least has become a thing of the past. What happened to days, when lovers would sit under the summer sky and paint imaginary pictures? To days when feeling loved was simple. We have forgotten to love. The city lights crave for a kind of love that no longer exists. We want so much that we can't really decide what is it that we want. There's a void between lovers in today's time. An unspoken heaviness. It's almost as if we have forgotten what it means to know somebody. Seldom do we share truth. We are so scared of people's perception that we fear to feel. Feelings for that matter cannot be boxed yet we try. The world has become so advanced but ironically we're so backward. It is baseless if we still don't talk to each other rather than just admire the fact of thinking about being in conversation. Conversations if I may add are rather so loose. What happened to days when talking about art and love felt like the summer heat? In a parallel universe, I like to believe it still exists. We lack love. Is it just me who notices the nothingness in things? Neha Bharali 🌻 (remember me as the summer rain)

Disclaimer : totally senseless content The night hums, a lullaby. For a baby who once slept And has been awake since. Desires of freedom Of hope and happiness. Beyond dark days, a life; A life of purpose. I lay down under the moon lit sky. With arms wide open Fireflies of the night, Hug me with all your might. Sip of freedom Taste of prison Like so like that I'm a poetess without reason. Detached from a world Of only love. As little as love I shall not seek. Neha Bharali 🌻 (one out of many days of agony)

The subtle sound of summer you hear, is rain. Droplets like a thousand hopes piercing into my skin. The distorted image of the city lights, floats in the puddle right beside. I have an umbrella which I refuse to put into use. A stranger beside me, who looks like my lover. We carry the same symphony. The rain is stronger than us, yet we share a love stronger then rain. Of never being able know our names Of never being able to share this rain again. It is raining, listen while you still can.. Neha Bharali 🌻 (Remember me dancing in the rain, like a child ready to take her first steps)

In a spotless moment, I feel ecstacy. Unknown to all, Can I ever be memoryless? A lane of red fallen roses, Thrown from windows of dejected lovers. I question my spotless existence. If there is any meaning to attach. Memories of my mind, Like fallen angels. In a moment of realization, My feelings perplexed. More than ordinary Little less then sophistication Amidst spotless existence. Strange. This spotless existence is. Neha Bharali 🌻 (Remember me in one of the many nights of agony)

एक अजनबी। कही खोई सी, थोड़ी चंचल सी, बारिश जैसी । एक अजनबी थोड़ी रूठी सी। दुनिया से अंजान। ख्वाबों में खोई सी, सावन से हैं उसकी दोस्ती। सपनों में खुदको धुंदे, मिश्री सी, कभी थोड़ी खट्टी। जाने कहा से हैं आई ये अजनबी। किसी ने ना देखा किसी ने ना सुना। तिटली जैसी, नादान, बेखबर, केसी हैं ये पहेली? एक अजनबी। नेहा भराली। 🌻 (इस अजनबी से हैं हमारी पुरानी दोस्ती)

Some people will never feel like they belong. There's a sudden numbness within them and no matter how much you try to please them they can't think and or feel otherwise. Emotionally vulnerable and fragile, handle with care. Growing up felt like garbage. There's no other word for the shallowness that lies within. Adulthood has it's perks but late when the moon is no longer visible my heart fills up with things that are rendered meaningless. Paper is my heart, words are my feelings. I've come to terms with reality and it is that I will be sad for as long as I lived. Every dying sun has a moon to follow. Every dying rose was once a lover's mellow. Every sad happening was once an event of happiness. Every summer evening has a child to play. Every moment of love was once my abode. Every picture now speaks louder than my words. Every body now, notices my sorrows. -Neha Bharali (sadness smells like wet clay) 🌻

গোপনে গোপনে মাজনিশা সপোনৰ সংসাৰ গুথে তাই। কাজল চকুৰ চাওনিয়ে বহু কথা কৈ দিয়ে। শুনিছে জানো আজিৰ তৰা বোৰে? তাই কোন? তাই বিচাৰে কি? দম্ দমকৈ আজি তাইৰ হিয়া জলিছে। ঢৌৰ লগত যুদ্ধ বতাহৰ। দুয়োৰে মাজত তাই কোন? চেচা আজি তাইৰ মন, ঠাণ্ডা আজি তাইৰ ভালপোৱা, নিশব্দ আজি তাইৰ কলম।। তাই কোন? তাই মোৰ মনৰ কল্পনা । তাই শীতৰ কোমল ৰ'দ তাই গৃষ্ম কালৰ হেপাহৰ বতাহ যাক। তাই মৃত্যু। - নেহা ভৰালী। ( তাই কল্পনা, তাই মৃত্যু ।।) 🌻

In the middle of the night; I will lay my head on your lap. Rub your warm fingers through my thin hair. Let's talk through this night in silence. The moon glazes different tonight, the clouds are shouting. I am craving for some rain. The rain, to wash down my soul. The ocean is my lover, the waves are my mate. We dance tonight into the unknown melody. Always unstable, put me to sleep with you holding me in your arms. I put my feelings in stanzas of poetry. Is it too much that I ask? Kiss me a goodnight kiss and wait till I fall asleep. Your breath is my lullaby for the night. I lack love. Yours, Neha (do not remember me). (I post my owm pictures against my writeups because no other picture can do more justice to this). #naporimoday30

Oh dear mother of mine, Loved me to death, unlike all others. Grinded me under the heavy stone Crushed like flakes made of gold and dust. Shall I come back for the love of my father, Who he knows nothing about my fate. Into a plant nearby shall I grow, To remind you of my dearly demise. Dear O, Dear, Donot come one step closer. Donot pluck me from my sorrows I am no ordinary, Let me grow for my dear father shall know about my demise. Mother of mine like no other, Cut my roots Killed one who is already dead. How many deaths shall I undergo? Blooming amidst the summer Once again shall I wait for my father As a citrus near my "once heaven" Speechless shall I reside. Dear O, Dear, Donot come one step closer. Donot pluck me from my sorrows I have been dead twice. Mother of mine, grabs me one more time Throws me into the river of life. For the love for his daughter, Must be heading home with a hope. Into a Lotus my existence is defined. Among the shallow waters, Where nobody knows my fearful fate I shall wait. Father O, Father Comes my way. Plucking a beautiful flower for his flower. Little does he knows about my grisly fate. Dear O, Dear Donot come one step closer. I am no Lotus Tejimola, your once loved daughter. Betrayed by a loving mother Killed me thrice in one life. O Dear Father of mine, For you I came back to life. Take my sorrow away A motherless daughter Speaks to you with all her might Love in your arms, O Father of mine. - Neha Bharali 🌻

এনেকুৱা কি আছিল তোমাৰ আৰু মোৰ মাজত? আজিও মই মাজ নিশা ভাবিছোঁ তোমাৰ কথা। অন্ধকাৰ যেন প্ৰথম নামিছে, জোনাকী পৰুৱাৰ জোনাক যেন কাঢ়ি নিলে। পূৰ্ণিমা আজি বহু দিন দেখা নাই ফাগুনে আমনি কৰা নাই বহাগৰ ৰং এইবাৰ বগা। যেন কাৰোবাৰ মৃত্যু, যেন ময়ে মৃত। কি এয়া উষ্ৰিংখলতা কি এয়া কোলাহল। কি এয় মায়া। বুজা নুবুজা বহুত কথাৰ মাজত আজি বন্দী হৈ আছোঁ। কিমান ভাল পোৱা জানো অধিক ভাল পোৱা? জোনাক যেন আৰু নেদেখোঁ কেতিয়াও, অমানিশা মোৰ আপোন। বেদনাৰ এই কবিতা মোৰ, জানো তুমি বুজিবা? নেহা ভৰালী। 🌻 ( বিশাল প্ৰ্থীবিত তুমি কিমান বিশাল?)

The night of my doom One out of many, To remember there is but nothing. The silence of the birds The silence of the sea Will mark the death of me. Soulless, For I have lived Way too long now. If heaven is what I search, If hell is not what I think Where is this midway that I need. Between desires and disgust, I choose disgust. Desires no longer come to me. I think, in one night I have lived enough to be sad That I shall now meet my purpose. Of being dead. Of being lifeless by the sea. Of the waves carrying me to a faraway land. Where the only sound I'll hear Is of me taking my last breath. Suicide of my thoughts. Majestic, Magnificent, Monumental. - Neha Bharali 🌻 (Remember me as a daisy) (Note : I attach my own pictures against my writeups because no ther picture can do more justice to it.)

দীঘলী পুখুৰীৰ পাৰত, বগা সাঁজ আৰু ৰঙা উৰণি লৈ সুজে সূজে সপোন গঢ়ি উঠে কোনে? চকুত কাজল, ওঁঠত লিপষ্টিক মন মূহি নিলে শকলোৰে কোনে? চাৰিওফালে বগা ৰঙা পখিলা, হাঁহি যেন মুকুতা। কান্ধত বহু সপোনৰ ভাৰ, এগৰাকী নাৰীৰ দ্বায়িত্ব। চঞ্চল চাউনী, লৰালি কালৰ ধেমালি, সূজে সূজে এক নতুন প্ৰস্তুতি। কোন হেইজনি? নুচোৱাকে থাকিব নোৱাৰা, চহৰৰ পখিলা? দীঘলী পুখুৰীৰ বতাহ, তাই সন্দিকৈৰ হেপাঃ। নেহা ভৰালী। 🌻