Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

I find that my imagination flourishes with the  lemony scent of lemons,

That on rainy days, as the skies open up and pelt the crusty dry earth, my mind wanders,

And on calm starry nights, as my myopic eyes try to make out the different constellations and I pull a solitary act, words turn over in my mind.

At that moment, it doesn’t matter to me where a word goes, or the fate of my imagination,

I am somewhere between reality and oblivion,

That space of  anonymity is where I found you,

Hiding between my lone words, struggling to come out into the agreeable vicinity,

We are the same at that moment, yet terribly different,

It is nothing and nothingness at loggerheads,

The fight to get you out into the open is bumpy and lethal,

Bloodlust for the longest of days,

But,

I like to discover things.

I discover, that, the Big Bang was really noiseless,

That the lemony scent I love so much, would be sweeter than strawberries,

That each time I glimpse a full moon, I always see the same side..

So now, I discover you,

Tall and lone.

Solitary and nuclear.

Venomous smile and lanky frame.

A fine relationship with your feline friends.

My imagination halts for a second…my heart too,

I am stepping off a high cliff uncertain whether the parachute will open or not,

It will be a bad bloody fall or a bloody good fall,

And as the air whooshes around my ears and the watery wind blows into my willow eyes,

I suddenly realize that the Big Bang must’ve been noisy after all,

And you are there to break my fall.

Neatly and timely seconds before I hit the ground.

A bloody good fall it appears.

I feel a happiness so profound that my lingering fear skides away into the green-eyed universe.

I am here now.

You are here now.

There is a promise of more to come,

For you have peopled me.

V.O

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The imprints of my glasses on the side of my face tell a story,
A riveting, yet harmless story,
But a story nonetheless-
A story of endless routine,
A story of unacknowledged complications,
A story of a life disguised as tough crosswords and complicated puzzles,
A tall-tale of restrictions-
     Restricted emotions
      Restricted need
      Restricted completeness
In all this, my vision is painfully blurry and it barely notices the endless posibilities of life around me,
There’s a potentially entertaining lover’s quarrel just two metres from my restricted perch,
There’s a crawling baby guffawing toothlessly at nothing in particular,
And the flickering lights in a nearby abandoned building would be considered creepy by the next normal person,
But I don’t notice all these-
I don’t want to notice-
The indifference is comfortable,
I don’t even notice the rapidly swaying door I’m presently walking into-

In two lengthy seconds, I finally understand why writers before me have said that the universe, or God has a sick sense of humour.
Or more accurately, the heart wants what it wants.

I understand these exclusively cheesy commentaries when you bumped me right out of my absent-mindedness,
And suddenly it was like the rivers had burst their banks and the waters hurried to drown anything in their wake,
My shifting gaze met your piercing one and my heart burst at its seams,
You reached out two strong arms to steady me and a genie escaped its enclosed bottle,

I felt. I felt. I felt.

Res

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triction did not exist in my vocabulary.
I let the emotions consume me.

Affliction and confusion were the first to assault me,
Then like a burst of light and sun and oceans,
Reckless passion and something that felt suspiciously like raw nerves started a wild inferno in the pit of my stomach,
I stepped back-shocked, for the impact was staggering,

My glasses, askew from what had become my favorite collission in my history of clumsiness, slipped and clattered to the floor,
They went unnoticed,
For presently, I was in a hypnotic trance,
I felt steady fingers at the imprints on the side of my face,
And I knew there was no going back to  restricted indifference.

V.O.

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Most people would refer to my numerous fascinations as normal. Typical. Ordinary.
But to you, ordinary never existed when it came to me. I was alien. Everything about me was starry.
My fascination with the Holocaust Period, my enchatment with the Titanic enchanted you, the spaced out gaze I got everytime I looked at the great orb that is the moon as it covered the earth with its pale light, my urgent need to traipse on the surface of the moon and somehow inscribe our mark-proving the existence of our love; was hilarious to you.
You would throw your head back and your shoulders would shake with mirth at my insistence that we had to make it to the moon.
You’d remind me that I didn’t even love anything Science.
And that realization made us sink into a crumpled up mess of hysterical laughter,
And so we resorted to painting the moon-
An oily canvas and paint-filled faces later, we presented our artificially real moon to the world,
It was yellow. A palish yellow that reflected in our eyes,
It had rocky edges and a bit of greyish paint on the sides,
Science had suggested that we include the greyish sand,
So on that night that we painted the moon, we respected Science,

Nights like these when the moon is crescent make me horribly nostalgic.
I am now strictly fascinated by full moons-another thing that you would have found alien.
I keep our fake moon in the ceiling of my room,
It creates an illusion that even the moon rises with the sun,
It keeps you here.
It creates an aura of your presence.
It reminds me that your ashes are not floating, or sinking somewhere in the Atlantic,
For one short minute,
Our fake moon brings you home.

V.O.

TWISTED FOREVERS.

Posted: May 14, 2016 in Uncategorized
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We were a vast risk,
Me, with my bipolar personality,
A rather trying attitude-
An inexplicable temptation for anything forbidden,
And you…
You..
With your astonishing lack of emotional involvement,
Your readily available uneasiness,
And a private penchant for horizontally stripped shirts;
We were a wrong strategy,
A strange concotion with a depressing logic-
A striking contrast-
A bizarre coincidence.

We were two souls reluctant to admit we were a ticking bomb,
Our attraction was chaotic-but we tried.
God, did we try.
But what will reastically happen, will realistically happen,
You were suddenly unsatisfied,
I lacked a sense of responsibility..
I was unfamiliar to you and your new situation,
And there we were, at an unfortunate crossroad,

And when the bomb exploded,
It was grisly. It was dark.

I watched you saunter off into the sunset,
And my heart lay lifeless at my feet.

V.O.

TRAITOROUS HEARTS.

Posted: March 9, 2016 in Poetry
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Dear Diary,
Let’s call my heart a progressive patriot,
It has finally caught on!
Or has it Diary?

Its cheerful wink and confident gait excites my usually dreary soul,
Its beat is inches steadier,
The pulse is far from restless,
And the warm blood sings in my narrow veins;
It HAS caught on Diary.
But-
Why does it still write him unfinished letters that his dark eyes that are like chunks of frosted ice will never read?
Why does my patriotic heart still forcefully exchange e-mails with my rebellious brain forcing us to remember that he liked his coffee black and lukewarm?
I had hoped that we had forgotten that he preferred his white Napoleon T-shirt to his bottle green hoodie,

Diary, I’m terrified that my heart still remembers our first kiss,
Our first quarrel, then several more.
My heart is supposed to have got wind that like the proverbial mysterious ghost, it is unseen.
Unnoticed by his dark eyes.
But in its usual fashion, it will defend itself and declare haughtily that it is part progressive and part traitorous.

But still Diary, I swear- I PROMISE that it has caught on!
It’s simpler.
It’s easier to believe.
Someday, it will not remember his blank stare,
His neat handwriting,
Or his penchant for frigid weather.
Presently Diary, my heart has slipped off from my chest, it is strictly perverted and needs psychiatric care.

V.O

WORLDS APART.

Posted: August 4, 2015 in Uncategorized
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I am here now,
Motionless in one corner of an impossibly spherical earth,
And as surely as we belong to the universe,  the glinting sun pops out of a family of cumulus clouds,
The heady heat of August becomes steadily unbearable as it becomes apparent that everything will soon cook under the glare of the overwhelming heat,
I burrow deep into my corner unsuccessfully fighting my persistent claustrophobia.
I imagine you in your corner,
Eagerly anticipating the days of wintry cold,
Basking in the mystifying cold and barely covering your numb-from-cold face,
I imagine you staring blankly at the transparent sky in your corner and appreciating the softness in your world,
From my uncomfortable corner, I know it was inevitable-
Your world is better-
Do not abandon the glint of greenness for my despicable darkness,
You are there now.
I am here now.
There is no promise of more to come.
V.O

LiFe CyCleS.

Posted: June 14, 2015 in poems, Poetry
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It’s a gamble, life.
It’s playing poker without a poker face,
One minute you’re winning against all odds,
The next you’re stuck- enclosed in four pale walls radiating doom,
You take it in stride-the doom,
If you’re lucky enough,
Survival instincts kick in,
“Survive” “Survive” “Survive”-the latest mantra in your mind,
So like a desperate soldier on enemy soil, you fight,
And sometimes, you win and go back to that happy place-
Sometimes, you fold in on yourself-
There’s no fight left in you,
A sense of foreboding kicks in,
Soon it’s defeat like its never been told,
Or heard-
Or written,
It’s unbelievable loss recounted from the mouth of a mother mourning the unfortunate death of her child,
The hopelessness is never far off,
It creeps in as steady as a hand on a tiller,
As confident as a cancerous tumor meandering its way in an unfortunate part of the body,
Worthlessness, meanwhile, would be waiting impatiently in line to combine forces with hopelessness and defeat and loss-
And together, they’d conjure up nasty thoughts in your tired mind-
“Throw yourself in the freeway, why don’t you? ”
“Wouldn’t it be lovely to see how fast hypothermia kicks in?”
Ultimately, you win over all those voices,
You sigh after your victory,
As you patiently await the next cycle-
Wondering in your heart of hearts if that would be the one to eventually end it all.
V.O