Tag Archives: dreams

I Smile.

I burn my body to ashes

But my conscience savors and yearns

I rot amidst my own ashes

But my soul transpires beyond the patriarchal tavern.

 

I burn and I smile

Beyond my submissive rage

For I have no dreams

Only a small selfish realm.

 

I burn and I smile

Even from my ashes, when he rise

Drowning me beneath my own existence

Setting my red hair- aflame.

 

I burn and I smile

From among the quivering ashes

Subsiding, submerging- dying

O God- Can I please cease the smile?

 

 

Picture Credits: coub.com

 

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Her Mysterious Meshuga.

There is a whirlwind of chaos inside her

An entropy, a madness, a little emptiness

That ceases her sanity from within.

The mania, the frenzy, the wilderness

All a part of her nugatory existence.

 

The deadening disarray enchaining her minds

Building a claustrophobia

Which you may never succeed to define.

The restlessness, the anxiety, the neurosis

All a part of her woebegone reality.

 

She is imprisoned betwixt the chain and its steely embrace,

She resides inside the merciless bolt and clasp,

And yet she has the zeal to envisage dreams,

To live in a reverie, a trance, a ravishing fantasy,

Her weening tenacity terrorizing her pandemonium to feebly vamoose.

 

 

A Dormant Warriors’ Wound.

My father’s friend

His brother,

Whose daughter

For me a complete stranger.

 

A 19 something girl

Docile but not fragile,

A smart intelligent girl

Who was just beginning to rise.

 

Staying in an urban city

Away from her parents and family,

She was inching towards her dream

Wanting her achievements to scream.

 

One wintry day, she caught a fever

Nothing much, may be just cough and cold,

A week went by and she lost consciousness

Her family flew to her in all concomitance.

 

A few days in the hospital

And al fell well,

She came back with a little wiggle

To spend some time with family and friends; just like a Belle.

 

A one moth went by

Laughing and living,

And she was preparing to bid god by

Giving slightest thought towards existing.

 

But wait what________

Hospitals and ambulances and doctors and nurses?

Blood freezing in the brains?

Paralytic attacks?

 

But, wait what_________

Coma, you say?

Mind not working

But the heart beating?

 

But, wait what________

The heartbeat stopped?

The body fell rigid

And_______ The End!

 

The father shocked

The brother denies

Her mother

_____She simply cried.

 

Words and consolations are provided

But how could it ever work?

Pity and tears were shared

But the family from inside- was broke.

 

I didn’t realize

Why did it affect me so much?

I had never even met the person

Then why did I lose myself and cry?

 

It bothered me so much

It shook me so much,

I hid myself and cried

I didn’t know how her folks even tried.

 

But the cliché says- the show must go on

But they say- a woman is too sentimental,

But they say_ we draw others troubles and make them their own

Why do you want to mend yourself when the

Wound is not your own.

 

And so I smile

I gather myself and I go to work,

Doing about everything without a murk

But adding to my heart yet another mark of vile.

 

But the wounds is not my own

So I must be left with a little brawn,

And so I begin again to walk the paths of unknown

Welcoming what He next throws from His throne.

 

And because, it was

My fathers’ friends,

His brother, whose daughter

For me a complete stranger.

 

I am just a little shaken

And I know I will reawaken,

I just cannot begin to think

Of the horrendous gloom on them befallen.

 

But since it’s not my wound

What have I to lose_____

She, to me was a complete stranger

But I hope for her to be her own avenger.

 

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This NAPOWRIMO thing, great so far, I mean to say I am enjoying it. But there is something I have to say now. More like get it out because I can’t keep it in anymore, and also I think if I get it out and share with everyone else, I might as well take things seriously. So last November, I don’t know what happened and I started writing poetry, just for the sake of writing them and many of them still remain unpublished. But Come Jan, I decided that I will try and write one poetry every single day and may be after a few months I will have something I will want to publish, more like I will try to publish. So far, I have stuck with the resolution, of course poetry doesn’t flow every day, but still have stuck with the plan, going against it only occasionally. I really, really want to publish something I write, I don’t care if it’s published by a publishing house or it is self published, but I want that to happen. As I say this now, here, only to make myself more committed towards this, so that I start taking it more seriously. nothing else.

So far, the poetries that involved the Napowrimo, (Except this one) were meant for my book, so if you have read them you can tell me if at all it could ‘EVER’ amount to anything.

In true anticipation of your reviews!!

And please be as much critical as you can be. I will work on whatever is wrong with my work, or me 😉

Her Altruistic Mien.

Have you ever seen a heart

Who has love, unconditional?

Have you ever met someone

Who has given herself so benevolently?

I have.

And I keep meeting them.

Whenever I talk to a woman

Every now and then.

I meet her in an infant daughter

Who is innocent enough to believe,

That her father might leave her midway

Given she did not comply with his portents.

I meet her in a young sister

Who gives up every thing,

And bears with her parents’ anger

Only for that miscreant little brother.

I meet her in a teenage daughter

Who makes friends with her mother,

Shares her first heartbreak with her

And one day she leaves everything, to be just like her.

I meet her in an amorous wife

Who loves and lusts her husband,

Blending into his family

As milk into sugar.

Her past lay behind

Shedding tears every once in a while,

She calms down herself

For breaking down has never served right.

I meet her in a doting mother

Who serves her child first,

A tired body she might own

But love will still that child own.

Day and night, she will take care

Of children she brought as their own,

Leaving behind her own dreams

She nourishes her family’s soul.

I meet her in a grand daughter

I meet her in a mother in law.

I meet her in a grand mother,

I meet her in nieces and aunts.

I meet her, and I will keep meeting them

In every woman who lives as a woman

Who comes into life

With learning her first words as ‘sacrifice.’

I meet that foolish soul

In every other woman,

Who gives more momentum

To emotion than reason.

I wish they’d know how to live

With ‘EMO-SON’ as a feeling,

May be then they’d never end up

With that senseless feeling.

But what could she do

For her heart’s in the right place,

All she wants is her people whom she loves

To be happy and full of solace.

Of course she is an ignorant fool

For she has lived a forfeited life,

Her loved ones will comply

Why did she surmise?

She cries and sheds some tears

Every now and then when she loses her endurance,

But she lifts herself up,

Finding valor, from I know not where?

And she is back with her giving self

While I wonder how much is left for her to give,

Will there be a time where she’ll be herself left with nothing but pain

And all she’ll have in return is a disgusted look in vain.

How much could a person give after all

How much love can a heart bore?

How much repugnance can one take

How much can she after all bear?

How does a soul carry itself with so much weight,

How can a body live with so many burdens?

And yet I see them, I meet them

All live paradigms of seemingly insane individuals.

I meet them. And I keep meeting them

I just wonder, sometimes,

Have you ever met such a foolish creature

Or is it just me who sees beyond the rational measure?

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Ps: Only, sometimes it feels like it is just not worth it, to give so much of love, and ‘selfless service’.

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The Author’s World!

“What if we are all just characters in a novel…. And when we forget what we want to say. It’s the author backspacing?”

 

I read this today and now all I am wondering is, really? What if? I mean what if we are all just fictional? What if everything that’s happening to us is a dream or an illusion?

 

Come to think of it we are merely those characters, handled by an unseen source, whose stories are edited and rewritten without anything being done on our part.

Still I rise!

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise

I rise.

-Maya Angelou.

And thus I love this woman too.

When You Just Cannot Breathe!

I was strangled. A rope tied around my neck, the grip was getting tighter by the second, and my eyes were widening with the same force. Beads of sweat rolled from my forehead, to the corners of my cheeks, towards the chin falling onto my breasts, mingling with the musk beneath.

 

I tried to free my hands, my legs, but all I could do was to sway in motion on the floor, wriggling like a paralyzed dog. Then came the panic attack and I couldn’t breathe, I thought it was just an attack out of fear, but no I couldn’t breathe any more. My mouth was trying to tear through the duct tape- in vain kissing it. My eyesight was simply wading, I could barely see any more. People were coming in, finally coming in view, but just at that very moment my eyes gave in, my senses were crumbling. Legs were moving in front of me, I could see through the watery eyes, despite the blazing fury. I could listen to their heartfelt laughter, despite the wringing noise in my ears.

I kicked one last time, in vain.

I gripped my hands with the fingers through the rope, in vain.

I stomped, wriggled, in vain.

I craned my neck, in vain.

I breathed the last sigh, trying to relieve the pain, but in vain.

I strained to see, but all in vain.

I shut my eyes, falling deep, deep into the oceans of nothingness, uncertainty.

I was so choked up, I just couldn’t breathe, I lost all hope, surrendering to that uncertainty.

And just then I woke up, finally breathing again.