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Avani Solanki
91 followers -
An aspiring poet with a cheerful outlook on life!
An aspiring poet with a cheerful outlook on life!

91 followers
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Avani Solanki's posts

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The Colours of the Sky
For the unknown is an intriguing terror, he sought The hues of the dispassionate sky. And he, a blind man,  Sought to hear what sight had denied. He asked a man, and he asked a dozen, And he heard sapphires and ceruleans and cobalts aplenty, But what were c...

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The Songs Of The Dead
The songs of the Dead Are the hardest ones to hear, They resonate with the voices Of the unseen and the unsaid. The carry the timbre of futures not lived, They are heavy with the baritones Of memories not made. The songs of the Dead Are sorrowful to hear, T...

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The Songs Of The Dead
The songs of the Dead Are the hardest ones to hear, They resonate with the voices Of the unseen and the unsaid. The carry the timbre of futures not lived, They are heavy with the baritones Of memories not made. The songs of the Dead Are sorrowful to hear, T...

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Mock Not A Woman
Mock not the pride of a woman, For she struggled hard to claim it. Mock not her meekness, For she always had the courage to stand with, and against, man. Mock not the serenity of a woman, For it bore her company, where men failed. Mock not her confidence, F...

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A Clockwork World
PART 1 The World once ran on clockwork, Each human akin to a toy, Which, when its key was wound, Would begin its daily ploy. Each day was perfection, Each morning crowned by the same dewy glory, Each night a starry calm, With nary a long face, or a sad stor...

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The Window
The room was hers, hers to paint.
 It was all for herself, each wall, each shelf,
 Was hers, and hers alone.
 She lit it with her own sunshine,
 She stuffed it with her own joys.
 It was a medley, but it was full of her, 
Of who she was.
 Each smile was a t...

Woolgathering

It's like we're running endlessly.
Moving across a loop, moving,
But getting nowhere.
Wondering out aloud, chit-chatting with our conscience,
Talking, yet not speaking, breathlessly.
Hearing but not listening,
Connected to reality, but oh so vaguely.
Chasing after thoughts, rambling
Through the meadows of our ideas,
Living in our own mind,
In a world of our own making.
Thinking, but not registering, endlessly
Moving, just moving,
On a path called nothing,
To a place called nowhere.
Perhaps, we're just woolgathering.
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