Strange Bird

Nandini, 26 | Hello, beautiful soul! Hope you find something you like. Have a nice reading 🌷

[s-strangebird]

My Secret Garden of Devotion

My heart is like a sunlit stream that winds beneath a golden sky; It traces like a ripened dream that blooms where gentle meadows lie;

My soul is like a quiet sky where drifting clouds in peace do roam; And is lighter than the sigh of winds that call the heart back home.

Build me a crown of emerald light; adorn it with the ocean's pearls; Weave it with threads of crimson bright, and lace it with the dawn’s soft swirls;

Shape it with roses, red and sweet, and lilacs kissed by honeyed dew; For love has made my life complete, and every day begins anew.

My soul is like a morning lark that soars upon the sunlit breeze; It dances like a willow's arc, that bends with grace among the trees;

My heart is like a silver flame that flickers soft, yet burns so free; With fury richer than a name, for love has come, and dwells in me.

Raise me a tower of ivory stone; adorn its walls with ivy, fair. Let roses climb where light is shown, and fill its halls with perfumed air.

Crown it with stars and sapphire light, and windows where the swallows sing— For love has made the world so bright, and every day a blossomed spring.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

In Her Orbit

Her hands do carve—beyond the words— a rhythm swift that breaks the mind; It slips through cracks—unfelt, unheard, and leaves no trace, nor path behind.

Her presence stirs the quiet air— a spark unseen—yet ever near; It moves, it bends, it lingers there— a whisper soft, but strong and clear.

Her eyes—like pools of starlit skies— reflect the world I cannot know; And in their depth, a soul that flies to lands unknown—where none may go.

She weaves with hands I dare not touch, her name doth slip—unto the tongue; Her hands weave songs that float and break, a rhythm I cannot escape.

Her pull is strong—yet here I stay, a breath, a sigh, I cannot flee; For in her orbit—lost I lay, and find no end to set me free.

She moves as water—pure and free— a rhythm bound by none but time; A melody that calls to me, and winds like shivers down my spine.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

Jellyfish, Breakfast and Heartbreak

This morning, I wanted to kiss you, but your face looked like a jellyfish, your lips seemed like they were grasping for air, like fish out of the water, and your eyes were dark and strange, like the bottom of the sea. I wanted to reach for you, but your hands turned into fins, your mouth was moving, but all I could hear was the sound of crashing waves. You stopped making sense, and I just sat there, staring. I didn’t say anything. But I think that (I'm pretty sure), it was at that moment that I knew— I didn't love you anymore.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

Death and Butterflies

A butterfly lands—a kiss, a pause— It carries with it the breeze of the earth, the scent of the flowers, the weight of its worth.

It darts through the sky—gentle and fair— The wind moves on without thought or care, as the butterfly dances through the air.

If I was dead, I would flutter this way— chasing the sun, yet slipping away; I’d be the wind, unseen, unknown— the silence that dwells when you are alone.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

Flesh and Bloom

Fingers press deep— they shape and reshape me. What will you make of me?

Will you carve me into something beautiful, or leave me as I am? Will you mend the cracks or widen them? Will you find beauty in the fractures, in the places where the light leaks through? Or will you see my scars and hesitate, and let your grip slip too?

Will you trace the maps I hide beneath, the roads that lead to loss and grief? Will you plant seeds where my spirit’s bare, and water the roots with tender care? Or will you see the barren ground, and leave before the blooms surround?

Peel me back, layer by layer, like bark from a tree weathered by care. Trace my veins into my roots, where memories run deep and bare; And let them linger, raw and true, until flowers start to bloom in there.

Crawl beneath my skin, slip inside, where all my fears and dreams reside. Unfold the maps etched in my bones, the paths to places that I’ve called my own.

Trace the lines where shadows dance, and light find places I couldn’t say. Find the gulf where sorrow weeps, and the corners where my courage sleeps. Feel the heartbeat of my hidden wars— my quiet thunder behind closed doors.

Carve your name where silence falls, where whispers bloom and shadows crawl. Leave the marks of your intent, engrave the traces of your scent. Leave behind more than fading lines— etch permanence in the curves of mine.

Peel back the layers of my guarded soul, or leave my mysteries untouched. Carve me into something new— make me more than what I was.

Don’t leave me unfinished, for your fingers press deep, but your hands must choose— to create or release, to hold or to lose.

The clay of my being yields to touch, but what will remain when it’s all too much? Will I emerge as something divine, or shatter like a fractured line?

I’ll shed my skin like a snake in spring— a fragile surrender to what change may bring. I’ll let the remnants fall like forgotten rain, renewal rising from the ache of pain. I’ll let the wind carry what is lost, and pay the cost of growth, freedom, and becoming.

For in your grasp lies the chance to see not just what you’ll make of me, but to uncover what’s hidden in the quiet spaces, the parts that even I can’t reach.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

Echoes Within

I want to feel fine, to breathe beyond this weight, to breach the walls, so tall and tight, and break the chains that bind my fate.

But they won’t fall on their own, they won’t let me go, I can’t make them disappear, undo the bricks I've built in fear.

They stand as sentinels of the past, holding all that once felt safe. But silence wraps me in its cold, where whispered doubts distort my grace.

Walls demand courage to collapse, to break them is to break myself. So I’ll press my palms against the stone, I’ll dig my fingers into the pain, and pull apart the seams of yesterday.

Now the ocean sleeps, still and deep, guarding the wounds I choose to keep. For love, I’ve learned, is not the bind, but solace in the grief we hide.

For the part of me I’ve failed to love, I’ll give it the space it needs to breathe, I’ll free the echoes locked in my chest, and let them weave their way through me.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

The Weight of Roots

It’s not the roar of crashing waves, Nor lightning tearing through the sky, But rather like the gentle stream, That carves its path as years drift by.

No fevered rush, no dizzy heights, No burning stars that burst and fade, But steady hands and knowing eyes, A light that lingers in the shade.

No need for words that overflow, No promises of boundless skies, Just love that deepens as we grow, in roots steadfast, where strength resides.

It’s not a fire, wild and free, But glowing embers, slow and true, A quiet love that lets us be— That’s soft, and sweet, and meant for me.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

A Tempting Harvest

Beneath the orchard’s heavy shade, I lie in wait like a promise made. The air is thick with ripened breath— sweet decay, the kiss of death.

My skin holds whispers, amber-glazed— an offering so sweet in taste. Each curve a hymn, each line a plea— a temple steeped in mystery.

I am the wine pressed slow from years, aged in sunlight, steeped in tears. A richness born of roots that cling to earth, to time, to everything.

Touch me as the rain meets soil, not hurried hands that bruise and spoil. For I am not a sleazy prize, but roots that grow where worship lies.

And when the last drop leaves my vine, when all that’s ripe becomes divine, you’ll find me lingering, sweet and slow, in the shade where the orchards grow.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

Flowers Blooming Everywhere

Say my name in exaltation, like honey lingers in the air. I place my heart in adoration, like flowers blooming everywhere.

The orchard winds know where I stand, beneath the vine where shadows dance. You reach for fire, the crimson core, but flames like mine demand much more.

So call my name in soft devotion, like waves that kiss the endless shore. I turn the tide, I draw the line, my sweetness speaks; the choice is mine.

Come, and tread this fertile ground, pick the flowers off my chest. I'm no fruit for careless negligence, but to cradle and caress.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

When Seasons Meet (Part 2): Summer Meets Autumn

Summer stands, her golden glare, a crown of sun, her fiery hair. "I’ve ruled with warmth and skies of blue, now here you come with changing hue."

Autumn steps with softer glow, her hands releasing leaves to flow. "Your fire fades, your breath runs dry, I cool the earth, I hush the sky."

"But what of heat, of life’s delight?" Summer asks, her flames still bright. Autumn nods, her tone subdued, "I bring reflection, quietude."

Summer leans, her warmth to share, "Then take the torch with tender care. For as you turn the green to gold, you weave a tale both warm and cold."

Autumn smiles, her colors deep, "I cradle life as it must sleep. The fields will rest, the earth will sigh, while embers glow beneath the sky."

The breeze entwines their gentle hands, as time reshapes the shifting lands. One fades, one rises, yet they know, each one’s importance to the flow.

Summer lingers, her golden hue, "Will they recall the skies so blue? The songs of waves, the laughter bright, the endless days that chased the night?"

Autumn whispers, soft and low, "They’ll carry you wherever they go. In fading light, in leaves that turn, they will long for your return”.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

When Seasons Meet (Part 1): Winter Meets Spring

Winter stands at the edge of spring, a breath of frost in everything. "I’ve held the world in still embrace, wrapped in cold and silent grace”

Spring, with petals in her hair, dances like a child. "You hold the earth in frozen chains, but see, the thaw begins again."

Winter sighs. "The world needs rest, a moment long, a quiet pause, a muted song."

Spring spins lightly, full of bloom. "Rest is needed, yes, but what of trees and bees and sweet perfume?”

Winter shakes his icy crown, his eyes now dimming to a frown. "I’ve watched the world fade slow, slow, slow, in shadows deep, beneath the snow."

Spring reaches out, a hand so warm, "Yet every frost must break and form— the sun will chase away the gloom."

Winter hums, a song so deep, of ancient nights, of skies that sleep. "But without me, would you exist? Can you bloom without the mist?"

Spring’s breath is tangled with the breeze, her whisper, silent as the trees. "You shape the earth with frozen hands, but watch—my touch will fill the lands."

Winter nods, a quiet grace, his breath, still cold, but slowing pace. "In time, I’ll leave and let you reign, but know, dear Spring, I’ll return again."

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

Strokes of Yearning

Write me like ink on paper, let me stain your every thought. Trace my name in fleeting whispers, catch the spark that they see not.

Sketch my eyes in hues of wonder, shade my smile like stars at night. Frame my soul in fleeting moments, bring my shadow into light.

Paint me bold, in strokes of yearning, blend your longing into mine. Let me be your endless turning, bound by neither space nor line.

Weave me softly through your verses, in every rhythm, in every rhyme. Let me linger in the pauses, in the spaces of your mind.

Sculpt my presence in your silence, where words are left to wander free, Let my echoes fill the distance, a soundless song you cannot see.

Write me like the stars write stories, in the heavens where they fall, Each one a spark, an allegory, a universe contained in all.

For I am the ink that flows from fingers, the breath that moves with every line, A gentle pull, a sweet insistence, a quiet truth that’s yours and mine.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

Shades of my Soul

I flip like a magazine; read me upside down. Each page a mystery, each word a twisted sound.

My thoughts, they blur and shift, like ink that never stays, One moment I'm a dreamer, the next, a fleeting haze.

I write like a storybook, a complex tale in disguise, But if you hold me close enough, you’ll see the truth within my eyes.

My mind is filled with open pages, ideas flipping through like seasons, I’m not the same from one to the next— A cycle with no reason.

I click like a photograph, a moment caught, then gone, Fading with the light of day, but I linger all along.

I paint like a canvas torn, pieces scattered in the air, Every edge a truth reborn, in colors bold and rare.

I am a work of shifting art, a brushstroke incomplete, But if you pause, you’ll see the heart that lies beneath my heat.

So turn me over, take your time, I’m not what I appear, the truth is hidden in the lines, a world both far away and near.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

Nectar of the Night

Beneath the moon's ethereal glow, where shadows dance and secrets grow, A world unfolds, both dark and bright, a tapestry of silver light.

A trace of nectar sweet I wear, while earthly desires wound and tear. The fruit I offer is fresh and pure— so good it lingers in the air.

I am the dove, both fierce and still, a harmony of saint and will. I walk upon that narrow thread, between the sacred and the dead.

Beneath my skin, a heat divine, I offer both the sweet and wine. A chalice filled with whispered grace, the secrets of the human race.

Beneath the tides of time’s embrace, I wear the stars upon my face, A fleeting ember, bound yet free, the mirror of eternity.

Come now, embrace this sacred mask, the purest sin behind my ask. In love, in lust, in all I crave, I dance between the moon and grave.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

In Your Veins

We are misfit dreamers In a gallery of artifacts But don’t let love dwell us apart— Let it seep into your grasp.

Let it grow where shadows sleep, In places where the broken roam Where silence lingers, secrets keep But echoes in the undertow.

I’ll drench you in red wine, So sweet it burns your bones Until your mind’s a tangled vine A place where love is carved in stone.

I’ll fill your veins with every sip, Until your heart beats wild and fast And in the silence of our grip The shadows of the past are cast.

I won’t stop till your mind unravels, Till the truth is mine to keep A love that wanders, endless travels That haunts your thoughts while you sleep.

And when the dawn breaks, soft and slow, I’ll be the echo that remains A whisper of my love for you As it courses through your veins.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

Ripe for the Taking

I stare at the sky through that pane of glass, A trembling mirror of dreams that pass. Moonlight spills, ancient and deep, A quiet vigil where secrets sleep.

Do you see me now, or just a reflection? Am I fruit enough for your affection? I’ll sweeten for you, I’ll ripen and swell, If only your hands would treat me well.

But the weight of love is a fragile thing, A fruit on a branch that bends with the spring. And still, I hold it—this heart, this shell, Trying to learn how to love myself.

Let the sky lean heavy, let the stars stay far, For the dream was never about what they are. It’s the way they linger, the way they gleam, Pulling me deeper into my own dream.

— Nandini Marson

[s-strangebird]

The Shape of Us

Love is like a gentle breeze, Whispering through the swaying trees. It lingers near, unseen but true A quiet force that binds us two.

Hope is like the morning sun, Softly rising, night undone. It fills the sky with tender light, A promise of the day’s new fight.

Joy is like a sweet refrain, Dancing lightly in the rain. A fleeting smile, a gentle sway, A spark that lights a fleeting day.

Fear is like a chilling breeze, It sneaks through cracks and bends the trees. It haunts the dark but melts with sun, A fleeting race that's never won.

Grief is like a silent song, A melody that lingers long. It hums within the heart’s deep well, A story only time can tell.

Peace is like a quiet stream, Flowing softly in a dream. A calm that settles on the soul, A place where broken hearts grow whole.

We are like the stars that fall, Fading softly, one by one. We burn too bright, then slip away, A spark that lives, but will not stay.

— Nandini Marson