Category Archives: Poems
Few personal, few fiction!
I speak of the unintended separation.
The void consuming every little trace of happiness left.
Grieving the hollow self,
Of elation, mirth and hope bereft.
Surrounded by intelligent machines,
I somehow forgot the human within.
Denied myself the joie-de-vivere
and myriad of emotions you taught me to gloat in.
Staring into blank sheets all night,
drowning in nostalgia and dreadful emptiness.
I would feel like bleeding out on the paper
and pour all I felt, enveloped in the harrowing darkness.
No doubt the sheets remained empty
reminding me it was half a year back I casually brushed off
the fact that I was fine with getting the sensuality we shared
from my pristine heart being forever stripped off.
I would trade my soul for the good old days,
when we would so effortlessly ignore the world.
Spending hours in the lap of nature, entangled with each other,
watching closely as the magic unfurled.
It was a delusion that I could survive
sans the guiltless pleasures you brought.
None to be blamed but my ignorant self,
for even conceding the idiotic thought.
Now I know you are a fragile little thing,
that demands fierce love, madness and obsession.
I promise to feed you even if I’m starving.
and even when I’m sick, I would nurse you with caution.
I’ve watched my heart shatter into countless pieces
and now that I’ve picked each one of them
I place them in your caring hands
hoping you would rescue it from the mayhem.
Dying countless deaths in a single day,
trying to fit in with humans, which will forever remain a fallacy
I officially declare that I can’t live without you,
Oh beloved, Poetry!
With twinkling eyes like those of a mischievious child,
the toothless lady endlessly smiled.
Behind those thick rimmed glasses were the doors
that ended straight down at her soul.
Lying on her death bed she felt beautiful even then and there,
running those skinny fingers playfully through her wavy white hair.
While gazing at the outstretched sky she went on humming her favorite song
as if staring into death’s eyes and asking him to sing along.
When asked by her curious granddaugher the secret to her happiness,
she said its just a choice she made in her yonger days.
To be surrounded by the happiest people on earth,
and to be forever gleaming with positivity and mirth.
A few other secrets are reaching out far and wide for all your dreams,
and never give up eating your favorite ice-creams.
Feed your soul with good books and poetry every single day,
also warm hugs from your loved ones work wonders they say.
(P.S: I imagined myself in my oldage and wrote this poem and I strongly hope this is the kind of woman I become someday. On this special day I wish that all the ladies out there start practicing self-love and take care of their mental and physical health as seriously as they care for others. To all the strong and beautiful women who inspire me to be a better person each day, wishing you all a Happy Internaional Women’s Day 🙂 )
As she watched nature weaving it’s own wordless poetry,
her heart fluttered with ecstasy and soul beamed.
And while the playful breeze tingled her senses
she wrote as she walked on the exotic beach.
She felt like the ocean, her roars creating music.
Fathomless and serene.
One who knows she will have her share of storms,
and yet nurses calmness on the surface and within.
She ran along the woods
soaking in glitters of sunshine filtered through the trees.
And smiling wickedly at the surrounding wilderness,
she crowned herself ‘the queen’ with a tiara made of blossoms and leaves.
She knew she was magic incarnate.
Fiercely independent, passionate and free.
An embodiment of elation and peace.
Like the unshackled bird, singing as she flies in glee.
a shimmering mirage.
An embodiment of reverie and deceit.
a sweet lullaby that makes me dreamy.
A holy chant that awakens my inner beasts.
His piercing blue eyes,
haven for raging storms of venom.
A fathomless ocean threatening to drown me whole.
a dangerous territory.
The devil has trapped me there for eternity.
skilled and addictive.
A magic spell that is too strong to break.
His chiseled body,
like a lifetime’s work of a passionate sculptor.
Reincarnation of the Greek Gods.
His calm mannerism,
like a sea that has battled the worst of storms.
The mystifying silence that puts words to shame.
a sensation that burns into the skin.
The kind that leaves a sweet ache lingering.
He is the book I read and re-read,
and happily stay pressed among its pages.
Suffocated and intoxicated, yet gloating in a thousand sentiments.
He is the desert while I’m the lone wanderer,
looking for an oasis within his barren heart.
Like a moth drawn towards fire, knowing its a death trap.
He is the journey that has no end.
The more I explore, the more I find.
Life feels like a treasure hunt, with him by my side.
He is not a dream but a nightmare that freezes my heart cold.
My escape from reality.
Waking up to the familiar pain shooting through his neck
and a grumbling stomach put through endless tortures by time travel juice,
ignoring the mind numbing headache
his eyes transfixed to those rolling empty bottles effortlessly trying to seduce.
As his lustful lips longed for a sip of the poison
driving him ill at ease,
his parched throat let out a pained groan
begging for his thirst to appease.
Crawling his way to the well stashed bar in the living room
he felt like a stubborn and naive kid.
As he dragged himself thoughtlessly towards his doom
he yearned for nothing but from his burning thirst getting rid.
Right when he wrapped his fingers round the bottle of ill fame
to quench the thirst that understood no bargain,
he heard the voice of his deceased beau calling out his name
from a far corner of the outstretched garden.
Stumbling and falling every few steps on his way outside,
as he ran clumsily towards the voice of his sweetheart,
the distance kept growing with every step forward
and he felt his insides into a thousand pieces being ripped apart.
Screaming his heart out as he squandered whatever remaining zeal
he ultimately gave up on existance and the willingness to live.
And as if to quench his thirst and fulfill his dying wish
a drop of dew sitting atop a grass blade brushed upon his lips.
Thinking about finally joining his beloved in God’s abode above or under,
seconds before the soul’s departure he was washed over with bliss.
And counting his final breaths he smiled like a baby in deep slumber
letting the fact sink in that the dew drop was life’s ultimate goodbye kiss.
Traveling the world with a frantic zeal,
she was naive of the hoarding smoke and dust
enveloping her innocent skin
with an ugly mask of a vying dark horse.
As the smoke clouded her cognition,
and dust coated her inner voice
she felt like losing the virtues and morals
that had shaped her into a noble human
slowly and quietly fading away.
As the realization kicked in
and she felt like she had lost her real self
somewhere on the way,
a small voice spoke from the back of her head
reminding her that her prized assets
were hidden beneath the layer
of accumulated filthiness.
The filth was anger, jealousy, hatred
and the greed to conquer the world,
which at first seemed requisite fuel
to ignite her passion and resolve.
What she never knew is
she would be sacrificing herself
in the journey of winning
everything else in the world.
Perhaps what she considered fuels
were in fact depleting her of vigor and grandeur.
Been proven by history time and again
empathy, humility, love and elation
are the finest driving forces of success
and embodiment of a life of perfection.
Having learned her mistakes
and earnestly deciding to shed the mask off
as she let the wisdom sink in,
she dived deep into the sea of redemption.
They said she could never create music
for she wasn’t gifted with hands.
But they were deluded
for they only saw that she was physically impaired,
and not the burning passion within that flamed her desires.
‘My body is simply a machine that takes my commands’ she said
pacing frantically through the lush green grass.
‘I give the orders, not take them’
cried her chirpy heart.
And she hopped over the piano,
creating sensational music
and uproar among the men she belied.
Despite the odds she lived her dreams
and left on the pages of history a substantial benchmark
to remind the world not to give up on their dreams even in the darkest hour.
“I am”. These are undoubtedly the two most powerful words. For what words follow them define you as a person. They become your reality. They become the mirror that reflects up to what depths you have discovered yourself.
I’m glad that all the bloggers out there are answering this million dollar question in their most creative and unique ways. Well I was going to settle with a line( like we’ve been asked), however I don’t think I’ll be doing justice to myself if I keep the poem unheard.
I am the girl next door with that peaceful look
resembling a sea so calm.
Battling countless raging storms within
floating on surface with grace and charm.
I am a constantly traveling soul with books worldwide
with a gloriously messed up brain.
Willing to devour every second of this precious life,
my forever wandering heart I can barely contain.
I am the moon that shines oh so bright
yet quite lonely in the dark
while the stars tease from miles away
dancing on clouds like upbeat glowworms.
I am my favorite architect
for I build myself each day.
Feeding on knowledge and wisdom
keeping my conscience from darkness away.
I am my worst enemy. Savage. Poison.
That deliberately ruins some of my days.
Giving in to anger and frustration
taking it out on myself in the worst possible ways.
I am that fiercely independent person,
who needs no companion or savior to survive.
Yet who laughs, wails, loves and hates with no regrets
watchfully keeping every emotion alive.
In the world where ruthless assassins await
to tame the souls as they please.
I refuse to give up my freedom of choice
and enjoy the adventure called life while mystic moments I seize.
While appearing for a job for the very first time, a couple of months back during our pre-placement training and mock interviews we were constantly given certain guidelines so as to frame a perfect answer to the question- “Tell me something about yourself.”
We were asked to start with our academic background and recent achievements, followed by family background, accolades and some other details. Even though I never objected to the format laid by them, I was constantly torn between being my real self( who is more of a dreamer than a realist) and someone who would nail the interview( by hiding all those things about myself which I was actually proud of). It felt gross when the trainers kept repeating the line that in order to bag a job you need to “sell yourself”. But isn’t that what we are used to doing ever since childhood? Trying to please our parents, teachers, friends and even strangers in the society.
During all this time while we are trying to please others by being not ourselves, but someone they would adore, we forget who we really are. We pretend to be someone else for so long that the skin we have climbed into sticks permanently and refuses to be removed. While making sure that others feel comfortable around us, we stray away from our own company.
Am I an introvert? egotist? Nah, I am a person who refuses to be intimidated by the world. I don’t make friends easily because I believe that peer pressure can destroy you as a person. Constantly being surrounded by people who mock your imagination just doesn’t suit me. Even though I am polite to everyone in general, I hardly enjoy the small talk. At times I enjoy loud music and crowds where I can’t hear my raging thoughts. And at times I pine to stay in solitude, where I can have the company of just my thoughts. Yes, I find myself confused and lost at times but I love the chaos that I am.
I am a person who does not take much pleasure in going by the stereotyped rules and beliefs. Despite of being warned during the mock interview to stick to my technical strengths and speak nothing but of academia, I spoke of my love for poetry and shamelessly admitted the fact that I enjoy reading literature more than my core papers. Even though there was a slight fear of being rejected, there was a sense of satisfaction and self-respect. It might have been an incidence of meager importance then, but it ultimately helped me in understanding the purpose of life. It’s all about finding your true self and being that person whether the stereotyped society approves of it or not.
Now, this is how I would describe myself in one line-
“I am a wild and troubled soul with a messed up mind who refuses to be tamed by the world out there.”
A hopeless romanticist,
a restless soul,
there she goes wandering along the banks of her utopian island,
followed by mischievous glow-worms dancing on her sublime thoughts .
She blows life into slumbering words
leaving behind footprints on the sands of time.
With a poker face she walks by your side,
her pursed lips deceiving you
of the loud cries of her racing thoughts
deafening her with the clattering of the restraining chains
that drag her like a trampled toy.
Screaming and demanding to be set free,
her dreamy self strangles her with threads of extreme passion.
Lost in the silent battles with her own self,
she slowly learns to derive pleasure from the pain that clouds her qualms.
She dreams of snowstorms while the sun rays bathe her feet.
She fancies bloodbaths while staring blankly on the clouds so limpid.
Conjuring painful fantasies she bleeds on the lifeless sheets,
producing heart-wrenching tales and poesies.
She sheds bitter-sweet tears as she writes,
with deep solid strokes she paints the bloodless canvas
and brings it back to life.
She delights over her reader’s distress,
confusion, chaos and brainstorms that shake the naive souls.
Slaughtering her own chastity into pieces,
she dies a thousand painful deaths in her reveries.
But her heart only beats more fiercely as time flies
and makes her feel astonishingly
oh so alive!
It fills me with ruth and empathy
as you continue to mark my body with cuts and burns,
delighting over my forsaken will to fight the hostility
sucking away even the last few droplets of hope and elation.
I willingly embrace all your tortures and afflictions
for I am engraving my pictures in your mind
like scars of the battle-wounds that never heal
erasing the fortuity of you getting away from me.
I wouldn’t threaten to kill you at once
for there would be no pain or penance.
What I want for you is a slow and painful death
that you will face each day until you get tired and decide to strangle yourself.
For I’ve heard that memories are the best slow poisons
that guarantee a prolonged suffering,
haunting you at places and times
making sure you get addicted to the anamnesis.