A feeling of Love!!!

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L’amour est la poésie des sens.

“Love is the poetry of the senses.”


A feeling unknown

In a sudden known

With the goose-bumps

In a way.


Why love destroys

Or the people, who do it

To blame the feeling

To make it challenging

To replicate the emotions

With slow breaths.


Love is the poetry of words

Crossing the bridge

With the calming sounds of water

In a rhyming song of arousal

With some puzzled tones

In which each sense

Twirls in delight

To show off the moods

To surrender.


Let’s love this feeling

To pass on as a symbol

To rejuvenate the generations

To incarnate the changing

Expressions of the fella

Don’t fix just one day!!


Let’s honour this feeling

Each day with more amusement….


Bhavya Prabhakar



Does the peace has trills!!!: Trill

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Oh my dilly

I have a unique facet

Figure out in deep

Meditations of yours.


Yes, I am peace

Having trills in me

Don’t be amazed

And muddled.


Indeed, I am your peace

Sense the trills

Residing inside you

Eluded since long.


Oh my dilly

The clock is trilling

Like the birds are trilling

With the trills in you

I am not pseudo

But your peace!


Bhavya Prabhakar

via Daily Prompt: Trill


Photo by Pexels 


Horizon: The new horizon

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Photo by Pexels, 20 January 2018

via Daily Prompt: Horizon


The new horizon 

Is entering her zone

Provoking the happiness inside

If the sea has more profundity

Why she is aloof!


If the nature has wider horizon

Why to quest for gaiety 

In the leaves 

Which are shedding 

To blossom more!!


The slight breeze

Jovially ruffled her hairs

With an indication

The innermost horizon 

Is cheerfulness

Why to hunt alone!!


She has never seen any signs

May be wasn’t looking deep down

The mountains are as daring as

Her inclination to yield up

Yet her fancy horizon 

Is gearing up.


Bhavya Prabhakar


Entertain: An evening in Paris



An evening in Paris, 29 December, 2015

via Daily Prompt: Entertain


Paris, my love

City of lights

Romanticising the glory

Backside of her spirit.


He made it true

By making it a story

The time was entertaining

Until she knows his duality.


The entertaining throng made her audacious

She was unaware

Of the unpleasant worry

But the leaves and wind

Keeping her cosy.


The entertaining French

were super glowing.

Like the glow in her eyes

But he kept mum

Instead of the verity.


Oh my Love, “Paris”

Asking the glory

Entertainment is static and forlorn

Without his consent

So let’s be pragmatic.



Bhavya Prabhakar