Do people exhaust the sea?
The riverine widens, As the moon becomes full And so does the tide The white and invisible surface Smears the riverine, knowingly Unknowingly maybe And goes back, dawn to dusk Dusk to dawn. It goes taste testing the salt To the dry, dark sand But it goes back washing away sand from feets, stones, shells too sometimes.. Making a cavity beneath A slant "v" an angle, Many angles actually. It does so w breaths many upon it Good bad and even worse; With tresses of lengths every flying over it With every time sun takes a dip in it And then rises in it's glory It spatters and splashes a bit more With every eye upset, now, Calm over it.. Does it bottle up things Does it mind the breaths, and the feets coming on her way, of her glory to expand? Does it dissolve and be not known to anything after meeting the ripples many? Or does it get exhausted, so much That it can, but cannot even speak..
Shreyaa Tandel is a self-established poet, or you can say amateur poet, from India. Her poems "Inadvertently Alive", "Virgin" and "Blackhole" have been published in the blue pages lit, and vamp cat magazine respectively. When she isn't writing or is glued in front of a computer/cell phone screen, she spends time singing north Indian classical music and reading the Bhagwad Gita and pretending very hard to be happy, even though she isn't. You can reach her at shreyaatandel1526@gmail.com.
She is a regular contributor to Marías at Sampaguitas.
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