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Ananya Bhaskar Quote - A poet is the most beautiful poem, never read out loud by anyone.

A poet is the most beautiful poem, never read out loud by anyone.

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Beautiful Poem Poet Reading

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Once the sky dreamt of kissing the earth and everyone called it horizon.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Dreams Earth Horizon Kissing Sky
Life is a burden and death is a luxury, at last we are all dreaming to buy.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Burden Death Deep Dreams Life Luxury
Fear people who dare to walk with their chest open, despite of having a heart bruise by love.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Bruise Chest Fear Heart People Walk
I started painting the touch of your voice, and ended up writing a love song.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Love Myself Paint Song Start Touch Writing
You can see heaven or earth in her pupils when she’s smiling, and happy for real.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Earth Eyes Happiness Heaven Reality Smile
You deserve the love that stays with you like the childhood poem you still remember by heart.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Childhood Deserve Heart Love Poem Remember Stay Yourself
She is handpicked by nature to bleed. Look, how she makes pain bow down and plead.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Blood Herself Inspirational Nature Pain
Bleed gracefully without a sigh, until this universe runs out of pain.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Blood Grace Inspirational Pain Run Universe
Exist so loud that even if you die tonight, your deeds illuminate like stars.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Death Existence Illumination Loud Night Stardom
You’re breathed all over the walls of my lungs and I don’t know how to breathe you out.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Break Up Breathe Memories Relationship Wall Yourself
We were so close that I almost mistook it forever.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Break Up Close Forever Mistake Myself
When she’s drenched in agony and soaked in pain, her smile holds the art this world is dying to learn.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Agony Death Herself Hold Learning Pain Soak
She was hidden, drenched in darkness. He held her hand and called her luna.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Call Darkness Hands Herself Hide
Art is the sound of a human dying to be an immortal artist.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Art Artist Death Human Immortal Sound
Your name is a song my thoughts dance on until they reach the tip of my quill.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Myself Name Reach Song Thinking Tips
Poem is a phoenix, whose wings are painted in the colors of nostalgia.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Color Nostalgia Paint Phoenix Poem Wings

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