You have grown
into me
you are part of me
your words are my words
your tones and gestures
my tones and gestures
the way you dress, is the way I dress
How do I separate
How do I escape from you now
without losing my self?
May 2008
( do you think I could compile all these and get a book published?? or are they fit for the waste paper basket?)
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Every word you speak
is a spear thrusting
forcing itself into my body
wounding it, poisoning it
the wound overflows as tears
and as words on this page.
The memory of those words
comes back, again and again and again
Each time I replay them
new arrows create fresh wounds
they fester, they grow
A dull, heavy, deaddening weight
a load of lead
sinks deep into me
and settles there.
Scabs will cover the wound over time
and heal it partially
Smiles hide the tears
Light chatter conceals the pain
But the scars will always remain
The load of lead will always remain
They have become
a part of me now.
may 2008
is a spear thrusting
forcing itself into my body
wounding it, poisoning it
the wound overflows as tears
and as words on this page.
The memory of those words
comes back, again and again and again
Each time I replay them
new arrows create fresh wounds
they fester, they grow
A dull, heavy, deaddening weight
a load of lead
sinks deep into me
and settles there.
Scabs will cover the wound over time
and heal it partially
Smiles hide the tears
Light chatter conceals the pain
But the scars will always remain
The load of lead will always remain
They have become
a part of me now.
may 2008
The doors are shut
Locked out, I wander
over the unknown, frozen terrain
not knowing where to go,
which way to go, stumbling
not knowing how to cross
frozen sleet, landslides, hail
searching for food, living
a hand to mouth existence.
Carrying a burden on my back
of guilt, of fear, of unattainable desire
of self doubt, reproach, of hurt
Afraid of being laughed, mocked it, rejected
Aware of being terrifyingly
Alone.
May 2008
Locked out, I wander
over the unknown, frozen terrain
not knowing where to go,
which way to go, stumbling
not knowing how to cross
frozen sleet, landslides, hail
searching for food, living
a hand to mouth existence.
Carrying a burden on my back
of guilt, of fear, of unattainable desire
of self doubt, reproach, of hurt
Afraid of being laughed, mocked it, rejected
Aware of being terrifyingly
Alone.
May 2008
Without You
I don't know who I am
or where I belong
Lost, uprooted, drowning
I need to believe, keep faith in you
to live,survive, to exist
It is a child's faithtrusting its mother even after a beating
It is a child's belief implicitly believing even after betrayal
I hold on fast to my "illusions"
But I am scared. Oh! I am so scared
I am so sorry I hurt you
I know it must be very hard for you
But don't you see it is not easy to break this faith
Perhaps, impossible?
I don't know who I am
or where I belong
Lost, uprooted, drowning
I need to believe, keep faith in you
to live,survive, to exist
It is a child's faithtrusting its mother even after a beating
It is a child's belief implicitly believing even after betrayal
I hold on fast to my "illusions"
But I am scared. Oh! I am so scared
I am so sorry I hurt you
I know it must be very hard for you
But don't you see it is not easy to break this faith
Perhaps, impossible?
Crisp, crinkly paper, hot
straight from the xerox machine
or from the printer.
Smooth, uncreased clothes
hot from the iron
The smell of dry grass
a dry leaf, on crumpling
Cool water on the parched earth
a fresh hot roti
a bed at night to tuck into
a splendid sunset, a golden moon
the smile of a child
extraordinary pleasures
of ordinary life
May 2008
( are poems like this one and the mango tree one (the one just before this) better or are the highly emotionally charged ones better?? I've been wondering...)
straight from the xerox machine
or from the printer.
Smooth, uncreased clothes
hot from the iron
The smell of dry grass
a dry leaf, on crumpling
Cool water on the parched earth
a fresh hot roti
a bed at night to tuck into
a splendid sunset, a golden moon
the smile of a child
extraordinary pleasures
of ordinary life
May 2008
( are poems like this one and the mango tree one (the one just before this) better or are the highly emotionally charged ones better?? I've been wondering...)
Laden boughs
Hang heavy, thick with blossom
creamy-white profusions
sweeeter than perfume
yet wilder...
Here and there, green mangoes
peep through your arms
green parrots nestle within you
for close comfort
oh beautiful lady!
pregnant with the hope of thinsg to be
your loveliness
is too much
for this summer evening.
May 2008
Hang heavy, thick with blossom
creamy-white profusions
sweeeter than perfume
yet wilder...
Here and there, green mangoes
peep through your arms
green parrots nestle within you
for close comfort
oh beautiful lady!
pregnant with the hope of thinsg to be
your loveliness
is too much
for this summer evening.
May 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
I had the find of my life yesterday... being such a poetry freak...
I bought my dream book y'day... a poetry collection of Alice Walker!! wo-oooo!!!! you should have seen my face when I saw it in the shop... I am so, so crazy...
The second was a poetry collection by sylvia plath!! just as good!! (though I doubt if I'd like anything as much as the former)
can't believe I actually "own" and "possess" books like these... I thought you just saw them in bookshops and libraries!
I bought my dream book y'day... a poetry collection of Alice Walker!! wo-oooo!!!! you should have seen my face when I saw it in the shop... I am so, so crazy...
The second was a poetry collection by sylvia plath!! just as good!! (though I doubt if I'd like anything as much as the former)
can't believe I actually "own" and "possess" books like these... I thought you just saw them in bookshops and libraries!
Frozen Russian snows
Bitter cold
a weary traveller
bundled in a shawl
selling gay carpets.
He has been travelling...
travelling all night
Lines on his face,
the look in his eyes
speak more than my words
resting but briefly against a wall
scribbled over with
meaningless nothings
What is life for him?
The nonsense? the gay carpets?
Or the look in his eyes?
September 2006 (written during the poetry workshop with Vivek narayanan)
Bitter cold
a weary traveller
bundled in a shawl
selling gay carpets.
He has been travelling...
travelling all night
Lines on his face,
the look in his eyes
speak more than my words
resting but briefly against a wall
scribbled over with
meaningless nothings
What is life for him?
The nonsense? the gay carpets?
Or the look in his eyes?
September 2006 (written during the poetry workshop with Vivek narayanan)
Silence
made eternal
a moment
immortalised.
Silence
helps me see
within me,
without me
Wide blues and greens
Spreading trees
Twittering birds
Within me, doubts
fears of relationships
with each one of you
'What is" for me, is not
for you. Already, it is changing...
I am thinking...
september 2006 (written during the poetry workshop with Vivek Narayanan)
made eternal
a moment
immortalised.
Silence
helps me see
within me,
without me
Wide blues and greens
Spreading trees
Twittering birds
Within me, doubts
fears of relationships
with each one of you
'What is" for me, is not
for you. Already, it is changing...
I am thinking...
september 2006 (written during the poetry workshop with Vivek Narayanan)
Friday, May 23, 2008
Illicit desires
phantoms of my brain
I made them my reality
held them close to my heart
clung on to them
did not want to let them go.
In most private moments
when I'm undressing, or bathing
when I'mdreaming
you are there with me
you live inside my head
all the time
Do you have two existences?
The real you... and the
you inside my head-- it's scary!
I wonder if that makes you
actually there with me
in secret, private,personal moments
And then, I see the real you
you avert your gaze, walk past me
and leave me wondering...
May 2008
phantoms of my brain
I made them my reality
held them close to my heart
clung on to them
did not want to let them go.
In most private moments
when I'm undressing, or bathing
when I'mdreaming
you are there with me
you live inside my head
all the time
Do you have two existences?
The real you... and the
you inside my head-- it's scary!
I wonder if that makes you
actually there with me
in secret, private,personal moments
And then, I see the real you
you avert your gaze, walk past me
and leave me wondering...
May 2008
a heart is bleeding, breaking
a wound is overflowing
tears are falling
this girl could never learn
that there are mistakes in life
that can never be amended
this girl could never accept
that what hurts can be here to stay
she fought too much against it
this girl could never believe
that the impossible in impossible
she was foolish enough to hope
this girl could not change
the centre of her universe
she was as a worshipper, at a shrine
this girl could never understand
how someone else could change
so much. oh, so much!
this girl could never realise
that someone had a right to withdraw
a right to dislike her, a right to hate her
This girl was also a kid
who said 'I didn't mean to do it
Please don't shove me away for it!'
The cars on the road are blowing their horns
people in their homes are eating and sleeping
the earth,the planets, are rotating, revolving
a heart is bleeding, breaking
a wound is overflowing
tears are falling
thirs girl wanted more than what she had
this girl must pay for her sins
this girl must suffer.
March 2008
a wound is overflowing
tears are falling
this girl could never learn
that there are mistakes in life
that can never be amended
this girl could never accept
that what hurts can be here to stay
she fought too much against it
this girl could never believe
that the impossible in impossible
she was foolish enough to hope
this girl could not change
the centre of her universe
she was as a worshipper, at a shrine
this girl could never understand
how someone else could change
so much. oh, so much!
this girl could never realise
that someone had a right to withdraw
a right to dislike her, a right to hate her
This girl was also a kid
who said 'I didn't mean to do it
Please don't shove me away for it!'
The cars on the road are blowing their horns
people in their homes are eating and sleeping
the earth,the planets, are rotating, revolving
a heart is bleeding, breaking
a wound is overflowing
tears are falling
thirs girl wanted more than what she had
this girl must pay for her sins
this girl must suffer.
March 2008
Jealousy
Jealousy is the hunger
when I can't reach the apple on the tree
Jealousy is the thirst
when I know I must go to bed without water
and I see you feasting on apples
and I see you drink of the clear stream
this hunger is growing at me from inside, consuming me
this thirst is making me a dry, shrivelled pea
it's making be bitter and morbid
I avert my gaze, I cannot look
cannot see you feasting merrily
Once upon a time I had all I could want
of apples and cold water
I like you, you're nice, and lovable and cute
I wish all good, no harm for you
Only...
I so wish I could have red apples and cold water.
March 2008
Jealousy is the hunger
when I can't reach the apple on the tree
Jealousy is the thirst
when I know I must go to bed without water
and I see you feasting on apples
and I see you drink of the clear stream
this hunger is growing at me from inside, consuming me
this thirst is making me a dry, shrivelled pea
it's making be bitter and morbid
I avert my gaze, I cannot look
cannot see you feasting merrily
Once upon a time I had all I could want
of apples and cold water
I like you, you're nice, and lovable and cute
I wish all good, no harm for you
Only...
I so wish I could have red apples and cold water.
March 2008
Incomplete
a broken heart
an emptiness in the soul
an aching void
searching, yearning, desiring
completeness, fullness
In vain. Infulfilled. Unsatisfied.
At once too empty and too full
Words I don't allow myself to say
Feelings I don't allow myself to feel
Trapped. Imprisoned.
Condemned to incompleteness.
February 2008
a broken heart
an emptiness in the soul
an aching void
searching, yearning, desiring
completeness, fullness
In vain. Infulfilled. Unsatisfied.
At once too empty and too full
Words I don't allow myself to say
Feelings I don't allow myself to feel
Trapped. Imprisoned.
Condemned to incompleteness.
February 2008
Missing You
Lost in dreams, memories
Sweet reveries of mine own
Missing you.
Perhaps I prefer to be lost.
reality is harsh. reality hurts.
I want to tell you that I mis you
i want to tell you that I love you
But I cannot do either
Perhaps I prefer to be lost
reality is harsh, reality hurts.
'Control! Restrain!', I tell myself
'This is nor right, you cannot do this'
I wish i could tell you that I want to be with you
Perhaps I prefer to be lost
Reality is harsh. Reality hurts.
I remember how you looked, what you said
I remember how we talked, how we walked
Didn't matter what we did, so long as it was you
Perhaps I prefer to be lost
Reality is harsh, Reality hurts.
'Stop it! This is wrong!' I say to myself
But it doesn't make me stop loving you
I will always love you and miss you and care for you
Perhaps I prefer to be lost
Reality is harsh. Reality hurts.
I want you to read this. I want you to end this.
It is wrong, but I cannot forget it
I may, in time, learn to live with this.
But perhaps I prefer to be lost
Reality is harsh, Reality hurts.
February 2008
Lost in dreams, memories
Sweet reveries of mine own
Missing you.
Perhaps I prefer to be lost.
reality is harsh. reality hurts.
I want to tell you that I mis you
i want to tell you that I love you
But I cannot do either
Perhaps I prefer to be lost
reality is harsh, reality hurts.
'Control! Restrain!', I tell myself
'This is nor right, you cannot do this'
I wish i could tell you that I want to be with you
Perhaps I prefer to be lost
Reality is harsh. Reality hurts.
I remember how you looked, what you said
I remember how we talked, how we walked
Didn't matter what we did, so long as it was you
Perhaps I prefer to be lost
Reality is harsh, Reality hurts.
'Stop it! This is wrong!' I say to myself
But it doesn't make me stop loving you
I will always love you and miss you and care for you
Perhaps I prefer to be lost
Reality is harsh. Reality hurts.
I want you to read this. I want you to end this.
It is wrong, but I cannot forget it
I may, in time, learn to live with this.
But perhaps I prefer to be lost
Reality is harsh, Reality hurts.
February 2008
Brown, slim
a teardrop face
tall, but not too tall
slender, but not too slender
a near-perfect figure
naked, bare
just the right fullness
a young woman
a girl turning into a woman
I look at the curves
the breasts, the waist, the thighs
the long fingers, the arms, the legs
long, soft, hair, black
falls down thick, till the waist
caressing my bare, bare body
Sensual. Evocative.
I gaze into the mirror
my eyes look into mine...
and I fall in love
with Me!
February 2008
a teardrop face
tall, but not too tall
slender, but not too slender
a near-perfect figure
naked, bare
just the right fullness
a young woman
a girl turning into a woman
I look at the curves
the breasts, the waist, the thighs
the long fingers, the arms, the legs
long, soft, hair, black
falls down thick, till the waist
caressing my bare, bare body
Sensual. Evocative.
I gaze into the mirror
my eyes look into mine...
and I fall in love
with Me!
February 2008
Bright gems and stones
encased in silver, gleaming
Long, Dangling. Irresistable.
Two years of dreaming and waiting
and watching and yearning and longing
My silver earrings-- a dream come true
Finally, a reality. I, the proud owner.
MY silver earring collection.
I loved them.I loved them too much.
I loved them eachd ay as I took them out
and put them on. Reveled in them.
Never took them for granted.
Twelve or thriteen pairs of them
in all kinds of colours. I lost them
I lost them, all at one go
My fault. My mistake. I was stupid
I was dumb. And I lost all of them.
That doesn't make it any better.
I was addicted to them, felt almost
naked without them. wanted to kill myself
when I found that I had lost them.
Silver earrings are trivial. Life goes on.
And yet, I would too gladly exchange
this poem, for my silver earrings.
January 2008
encased in silver, gleaming
Long, Dangling. Irresistable.
Two years of dreaming and waiting
and watching and yearning and longing
My silver earrings-- a dream come true
Finally, a reality. I, the proud owner.
MY silver earring collection.
I loved them.I loved them too much.
I loved them eachd ay as I took them out
and put them on. Reveled in them.
Never took them for granted.
Twelve or thriteen pairs of them
in all kinds of colours. I lost them
I lost them, all at one go
My fault. My mistake. I was stupid
I was dumb. And I lost all of them.
That doesn't make it any better.
I was addicted to them, felt almost
naked without them. wanted to kill myself
when I found that I had lost them.
Silver earrings are trivial. Life goes on.
And yet, I would too gladly exchange
this poem, for my silver earrings.
January 2008
Desire
Desire
hot, strong desire
engulfs me, consumes me
moves from the pits
up, up, filling my mouth
fills each pore and core of me
Desire
all the more powerful
for being unexpressed
I shake and tremble with desire
My lips, open and parted
The words die away, unspoken
Unattainable desire
Passionate desire
Desire. Desire. Desire.
24th april 2007
(wrote this one day before my paper 7 final exam in BA Eng Hons 3rd year, cos I was driven to despair... and got a 63 in that paper!! so, if you want a 1st div, stop studying and write poems on the exam eve!)
Desire
hot, strong desire
engulfs me, consumes me
moves from the pits
up, up, filling my mouth
fills each pore and core of me
Desire
all the more powerful
for being unexpressed
I shake and tremble with desire
My lips, open and parted
The words die away, unspoken
Unattainable desire
Passionate desire
Desire. Desire. Desire.
24th april 2007
(wrote this one day before my paper 7 final exam in BA Eng Hons 3rd year, cos I was driven to despair... and got a 63 in that paper!! so, if you want a 1st div, stop studying and write poems on the exam eve!)
Poetry
In deep despair
when there's none to care
when I'm trapped or scared
pulled to pieces, pulled
dead, battered, broken
and all alone.
Then, Poetry, it is you, my friend
it is always you in the end
to lift me, to save me, to cure and to heal
like soothing balm on open wounds you feel
you take me to beauty, to ecstasy
to moments of perfect epiphany
I owe you much but little can I give
I strive to recah you but little can I climb
A humble request, oh, poetry, do not leave this child...
may 2007
In deep despair
when there's none to care
when I'm trapped or scared
pulled to pieces, pulled
dead, battered, broken
and all alone.
Then, Poetry, it is you, my friend
it is always you in the end
to lift me, to save me, to cure and to heal
like soothing balm on open wounds you feel
you take me to beauty, to ecstasy
to moments of perfect epiphany
I owe you much but little can I give
I strive to recah you but little can I climb
A humble request, oh, poetry, do not leave this child...
may 2007
Sometimes
a morning can be dismal
or heavy, or weepy woeful
Sometimes
a morning can be mundane
hard work and toil, work and toil
Sometimes
a morning can be a poem
a beautiful epiphany
Did the morning change?
Or was it me, I wonder
Sometimes
Or was it the spark, the fire
rebirth that made the difference, I wonder
Sometimes.
may 2007
a morning can be dismal
or heavy, or weepy woeful
Sometimes
a morning can be mundane
hard work and toil, work and toil
Sometimes
a morning can be a poem
a beautiful epiphany
Did the morning change?
Or was it me, I wonder
Sometimes
Or was it the spark, the fire
rebirth that made the difference, I wonder
Sometimes.
may 2007
memories
Rolling waves of memory
carshing, flooding
consuming, engulfing
Flitting leaves of memory
page after page
reopening worlds
a fragile, tenuous link forms memory
with the lost reality that is no more
will be no more, will be no more
falling, falling memories
nostalgia welling up
threatening to overtake reality
a bitter-sweet smile
accepting the truth of life
yet cherishing the unforgettable...
may 2007
Rolling waves of memory
carshing, flooding
consuming, engulfing
Flitting leaves of memory
page after page
reopening worlds
a fragile, tenuous link forms memory
with the lost reality that is no more
will be no more, will be no more
falling, falling memories
nostalgia welling up
threatening to overtake reality
a bitter-sweet smile
accepting the truth of life
yet cherishing the unforgettable...
may 2007
Welcome ! Join in!
Everyone is most welcome and more than welcome to post, comment and join in, pls!! I wanted to have good discussions... what is the point of a blog after allif I am talking to myself! I can do THAT without one...
I don't want the "admiring bog" that Vikram Seth's frog had "frog and the nightingale", (remember class 10th?) , I just want you to join in, any which way!
I don't want the "admiring bog" that Vikram Seth's frog had "frog and the nightingale", (remember class 10th?) , I just want you to join in, any which way!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)