Thursday, 30 December 2010

Just one day

It was a thought
that just passed me by.
It was a reason
that suddenly caught my eye.
It was a sensation
that randomly startled me.
It was a glance
that one day jostled me.
It was a hope
that triggered me.

It was honesty.
It was gravity.
It was insanity.

It was desire.
It was dreams.
It was belief.

It was lies.
It was a disguise.
It was deceit.

Wednesday, 29 December 2010

Sweet Justice

There was silence.
There was hope.
There was want. 
There was desire.
There was pleading.
There was need.
There was hurt.
There was numbness.
There was pain.
There was blame.

Then there was indifference.

Monday, 27 December 2010

Only time

Going round and round in endless circles. No end, no conclusion. Just constant eccentricity. 

I have thought about full stops, but those are just too risky. So instead, I leave one more comma, one more trace of my stupidity and hope that you haven't judged me for it.

Sometimes I feel like I don't even know what I really want. I get to a dead end and don't see why I walked all the way in the first place. Perhaps it is just momentum that takes me from one level to another. Perhaps it is as always about the chase. Perhaps I really do want this to work out. Perhaps this time too my paranoia will get the best of me. 

Reminds me of one of my favorite songs.....

Who can say where the road goes.......only time!

Monday, 20 December 2010

Where is your safe place?

Earlier I wrote about places and feelings and this post is almost like a follow up to that one. Places and feelings do go together. Especially those of safety and security. Whilst one place can seem so unsafe and impossible to live in, just 15 mins away you can feel the most secure you ever have.

And as always, it really is about the people. Cities by themselves are hollow caricatures, not too different from one another. Perhaps geographically and historically distinct, but history and geography don't bring you back to a place too often. What keeps you connected to any place is those that stay there. 

Take for instance Ludhiana, a perfectly non remarkable town from the perspective of travel interest. Yet people like me feel a strange sense of completion and familiarity when they go there. Simply because there are people that matter that still stay there. Or then there are memories with other people that keep pulling us back.

Once again I am amazed at how social man is. How incomplete and desolate without other humans. How pathetic and lonely without those around him.

Saturday, 18 December 2010

There's something about nostalgia that makes it so irresistible. 

Today I was crossing an old familiar area and it brought back memories, so sweet and sour at the same time. 

Interestingly I cross this area almost everyday but it only rarely evokes emotions from the past. Partly because I am too engaged with the present and partly because it is exhausting to deal with the past everyday. Each time I think of all that's gone by, I invest a little more of myself in things that don't exist anymore. Now don't get me wrong, I am not advocating moving away from the past. It would be very hypocritical if I did.

I am the most nostalgic person I know. I draw my passion from all that's happened, I laugh at jokes from ten years ago and occasionally cry over things that happened fifteen years ago. I hold and never let go.

Having said that, nostalgia is a guilty pleasure and I don't I let myself indulge in it everyday. Simply because I can't afford to. My life has changed so rapidly over the years that before I know it, an era will pass me by if I think too much about the one that just ended. 

Tuesday, 14 December 2010

Black. White. Grey (Thanks for the inspiration, in more ways than one)

There are two types of people in the world. Those that look at black and white as separate, concrete, simple colors. And then others that see them as grey. The latter see things from the perspective of what they could be. They are never satisfied with things at their face value. They interpret and reinterpret to such an extent that the original words don't even matter. To them, black and white are irrelevant. What matters is where black merges into white.

Lately, I have been intrigued by the contrast between those that see things as they are and those that like to complicate and analyze even the most basic facts. In the words of someone I know, the first category of people is simple and direct. They don't perceive a grey. They don't feel the need to dwell deeper. They understand logic and require straight talk. 

The second category is the diametric opposite. They will find a mystery where there is none, question for so long that the answer stops mattering, they will always be critical and impossible to satiate. This variety only sees the grey. They prod so deep into everything that they forget to see things as they are. 

So what happens when simple meets complex, when two people that are so different collide? 

Perhaps it depends upon who let's go first. Perhaps they don't see the need for agreement. 

As a side, i am pretty sure i am the grey type. And the fact that I desperately want to delete this post and redo it with another layer of orange only proves that complication is definitely part of who I am!

Friday, 10 December 2010

You

A lot of people ask me who I refer to in all my posts. They want to know if "you" have a name. They want me to describe you. They want me to put you in a box and label you. They want to be able to grasp everything I feel for you. They want to be able to understand you, define you, stereotype you. They want to put a face to my words. They want to make you small, tiny and tangible. They want to make you finite and complete. 

But, what if...there is no you? What if you are stronger than their scope of comprehension and more omnipotent than their imagination? What if you exist, only as a figment in my parallel universe? What if you are colored in more shades than they have names for? What if you are too immense to capture in one single word? 

What if, you are, who YOU think you are. 

Wednesday, 8 December 2010

Concentric Circles (Thanks S. Kapur for the inspiration)

We initiate strangely, you and I.
We start, we stop.
We push, we pull.

We move with caution, you and I.
We spring, we regress.
We watch, we suggest.

We hit reality, you and I.
We recoil, we leap.
We reconcile, we grieve.

We move on, you and I.
We laugh, we regret.
We pretend, we forget.

Tuesday, 7 December 2010

Lately, I have gotten so used to posting everyday that the sudden gap on this blog has left me a little unhappy. And no, I haven't developed a writers bloc or suddenly found myself too busy. Rather, I have had too many thoughts on my mind. When my mind works at this speed, I cant slow down and put things down on paper. So on days like these, I just let myself be, ponder over and over, sulk a little, and then move to the next day. 

How do you categorize things that are so far apart, so abstract and so complicated? How do you successfully preserve every thought, without losing the free spirit that guides it? 

Since, I clearly don't know how, today I am just going to write about random things on my mind. 

1) Premonition: This thought has been on my mind for a number of days now. A conversation with someone brought it up and I think about it pretty often. Is premonition possible? Can we really sense things before they can happen? Very often, I feel things that I believe exist, even before I know what they are. There are instances when I can almost touch tomorrow, when I can reach to what will be. But then I stop. I laugh at myself. I question every instinct and dismiss every gut feeling. I am often left wondering: Is it my mind playing tricks? Or is there some substance to all these "near" feelings? 

2) Reputation: As I have started working, I have become more and more aware of how people judge me. I have also become more conscious of how I judge people. Sometimes I wish there was no judging or repercussion. The curious me wants to know if all of us, including me, would behave differently. 

3) Interspace: The first time I heard of this concept was at NUS. The idea that we are filling all our in-between time with something, always making the best possible utilization of the time we have. Each time I sit in the car and put on my music, I make a decision, to personalize my interspace, to tune out all those around me. That is the one hour in the day that I spend with myself and my thoughts. As much as I love other people, I love the little time that is reserved only for me. 

4) The Chase: I was speaking to a friend the other night and we started talking about how our lives are all about the chase. We constantly move in circles (discussion for another post) and come back to the same point. We start with passion, excitement and commitment. We then meet hope, persuasion and need. Eventually we bump into either disappointment or boredom. And then, we move on. Yet, humans never tire of the chase. We stumble, and we get up again. Because we know no other way. Because being stable and stationary is too simple and straightforward. We like to complicate things. We like to lose so that we can start over. We are the "glass half empty" species. 

I could go on forever. But that's all I have for tonight. Perhaps tomorrow will be a more focussed day. 

Saturday, 4 December 2010

Stranger, what's your motive?

It's always heart warming to meet someone who's been in the same space as you. Someone who understands what you are saying because he or she has experienced it first hand.

But.

Our brains are so easy to trick. All someone needs to do is talk about something that is even slightly important to us and we go crashing down hill. Sometimes I wonder how many people misuse this basic human need of belonging.

We meet new people so often. How is one to know that they aren't just feeding on our weaknesses. How can one say for sure that the person you met yesterday is not using the information he has on you to manipulate you?

Maybe it's naive to not ask these questions before giving parts of yourself to someone. Maybe it'd take a paranoid mind to even stumble upon such a thought.

Friday, 3 December 2010

What next?

I have always held one belief close to my heart. People can never be forgotten unless someone else comes and takes their place. It's near impossible to get over someone unless you get distracted by another human being. 

Only question is - how easy are you to distract? With my short attention span, this come quite naturally to me. I can be totally hung over someone one day and completely over them the next. 

What doesn't come naturally to me is actually staying in one monogamous space, without feeling the need to meet new people or have more refreshing experiences. 

Maybe one of these days someone is going to come along with the ability to keep my attention. Someone who can effortlessly keep me focussed and engaged. That or, I'll just simmer and settle. 

Thursday, 2 December 2010

Farther Away

I wonder about you 
Sometimes

I miss your poetry
Sometimes

I long to hear you 
Sometimes

I crave for completion
Sometimes

Only
Sometimes


Wednesday, 1 December 2010

Because mother's know best!

There are some things that only your mother knows about you. No matter how much anyone else may try, it's impossible to gain that depth of understanding that a mother has about her child.  

I have always known this to be true. A few days back my mother said something that proved it all over again.   She pointed out the fact that I have crazy will power. That once I decide something, no one can change my mind. 

My mothers favourite illustration involves my giving up thumb-sucking. I was one year old and my parents had tried nearly everything: putting spices on my finger, tying them with bandage, telling me a hundred stories. As you may imagine, they failed miserably. Then one day my father looked at me, pointed at my teeth and said "Zoya all your teeth will fall out!". I simply confirmed if he has being serious and needless to say, that was the last time I sucked my thumb. At this point of her story telling, my mother usually recounts her fear at how crazy my will power was considering I was only one. 

Just yesterday, my mother added another illustration to prove her point. This one involves my giving up non veg food. She doesn't know why I did it. Actually almost no one does. But she does know that it took all my insane will power to do it. 

So while the entire world may question my ability to finally make a decision and stick by it, my mother knows that I will. And guys, this time too, I'll prove her right.

Tuesday, 30 November 2010

You are my lie

He doesn't understand me
I only hope that he does

He doesn't comprehend my silence
I only believe that he does

He doesn't see me sparkle
I only crave that he does

He doesn't like me for who I am
I only need that he does

He doesn't belong with me
I only pretend that he does.

Monday, 29 November 2010

Double meaning

Do you ever feel like you are having two simultaneous conversations with someone? One that is really being said and one that is almost said but kept away?

Lately I struggle so much with double meanings that I myself don't know if I am listening at all or I am recreating everything. One moment I hear something you have not said and another moment you say something that brings me crashing down. 

Strange as it may sound, I want to believe that we really are having two conversations. That each meaningless word means something. That each silence contains a million sentences. That you really are saying all those things that I "almost" hear. 

Unfortunately I never know. After each goodbye I am left wondering. On most nights I settle the matter by reconciling my ability to imagine with my ability to be rational. But then there are nights like today when settlement isn't possible. Nights when imagination triumphs.

Sunday, 28 November 2010

One of these days...

Make your move
And wait patiently
One of these days 
You'll get your due

Drop that hint
And turn away
One of these days
It'll be comprehended

Take every risk
And then forget
One of these days
It'll be worthwhile.

Thursday, 25 November 2010

Such is life

I watch you 
As you slowly mix 
The bubble formula

I watch you 
As you delightedly
Blow and smile

I watch you 
As your hopeful eyes
See the bubble grow

I watch you
As the bubble gently 
Blows my way

And then 

I watch you 
As I slowly take my finger 
And burst the bubble.

One more

Do you sometimes feel like shaking someone and asking them for the truth? 
Do you get up with the need to look someone in the eye and tell them how you feel?
Do you for a moment lose your inhibition and decide to take that chance? 

And then do you shut your child-like brain and get back to the humdrum of life? Or do you actually pick up the phone and make that call?

Wednesday, 24 November 2010

Memories of you....

There is a strange sort of nostalgia that pulls me towards you again and again. Each time I say goodbye and think I have forgotten, memories come reminding. 

Shards of yesterday
A million dreams 
Scattered and nameless 

I always wonder if I made a mistake with you. And the little space of could-be leaves me annoyed and just a little unsure. 

And as always I write about it and leave it like I see it, as a lingering-passing thought. Perhaps tomorrow I will remember a little lesser. Perhaps tomorrow I will finally let go.

Tuesday, 23 November 2010

What's your story?

As I walked with him and he told me a little bit of himself today, it hit me that humans treat parts of their history like sacred information. If I share part of me, I expect a part of you in return. However in most situations the sharing isn't equal. There's always a listener. 

The fundamental need to connect with others makes us give up parts of ourselves. Sometimes embarrassing, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes life changing. Each time a story is told, a negotiation takes place. A silent testimony to the bond that exists between two people.

So each time I tell you my story, know that I am letting go off my fear, because I want to trust you and I want you to be the person I think you are. And each time you tell me a story, I know you are entrusting a part of your life in me and I hope I can keep it safe.

Today, go out, talk to a stranger and tell him your story. Or turn to that one friend and finally confide in him. Life's too short.. Take a chance with people, everyday. 

Monday, 22 November 2010

The Game

Roll the dice 
Let's see who wins
Play your bet
Make the wheel spin. 

Tell the first lie
And I'll tell the next
Move backwards
Struggle and suppress. 

Then when you are tired
Stop and reflect
Your pretense might be easier 
But how will you forget?

Saturday, 20 November 2010

And what do you believe in?

I watched Guzaarish today - for free - but that's another story. What I need to blog about is the stupidity of the movie. Actually the stupidity extends far beyond the movie. I have never understood the plea for euthanasia and the idea of suicide (and yes from the perspective of this argument they fall under the same category).

I get that you want to escape your current situation and I am no one to judge the extremity of your life. However the moment you decide to chose death instead I can't help but question your sanity. 

So you are obviously at the end of hope, don't see any miracle changing whatever it is that you are running from. But, you still have hope enough to believe that death is actually less painful and perhaps better! You go ahead, hurt the few people that probably actually care for you, and for what? For a mere possibility that the after life is after all slightly better. Unlike others, I don't think you are cowardly, I think you are completely foolhardy.

But who am I to judge your belief? After all there are a thousand such idiosyncrasies around. And if there's no law prohibiting you from following religion then perhaps there should be no law to prevent euthanasia or suicide. In the land of the crazy, you too should get to chose your own ridiculous belief.

Friday, 19 November 2010

Language. Cross out.
Words. Cross out.
Thoughts. Cross out.

But how do I forget
That silent 
Intense
Surreal
Way I feel
Around you?

Thursday, 18 November 2010

So what will it be?

There's a constant chatter somewhere in my head. No matter what I may be doing or how busy I may be, this one nagging thought continues to trouble me. I can't resolve it because resolutions often involve risk and that's not something I deal with very well.

I have always liked to believe myself to be a risk taker. But lately it's occurred to me that I may take a risk but after so much deliberation that it doesn't remain risky anymore.

I don't take risks, not unless I am pretty convinced of a positive outcome. I take little steps, testing the ground each time. I almost never take giant leaps.

I have lived the paranoid life almost flawlessly. However on some days I get up asking myself just how much I may have lost on the way because I didn't take that risk when I could have. I know I'll never know for sure. It's that fear of never being able to know that stops me from taking a chance. But it's also the same fear that prods me and pushes me to risk a part of me once in a while.

Each time I stand at the edge of a decision, the same question is asked. So what will it be this time? 

Maybe I'll just let this thought nag me for a while. Maybe I'll leap. Maybe I'll get bored of the constant noise and put it on mute. Maybe something even more annoying will displace it. Maybe.

Wednesday, 17 November 2010

Brainless heart

Instinctive desire
Animal sanity
Human need
No rationality

Taking every risk
Making every move
And then 
Regret

Reckless desire
Left uncontrolled
Effortlessly moving 
In opposite directions

Pulled together
Ripped apart
Stupid emotions
Brainless heart

Tuesday, 16 November 2010

If it helps...

Go and save yourself and take it out on me.

If it makes you imagine
Let's pretend you are in control
If it makes you stronger
Let's pretend I don't see through you
If it protects you
Let's pretend I don't see you need me
If it makes you better
Let's pretend you aren't just the same man

If it helps
Let's pretend.

And the flavor changes again....

I always knew that people and places go together. But what surprised me today was how places and feelings go together as well. It's strange that I can feel completely connected to someone and then in a different place, the same someone stops affecting me at all. 

I have always been aware of my ability to connect and let go very quickly, but I never knew the power of my own will to forget and move on. 

Perhaps my defenses are so protective that with even the slightest possibility of pain, I turn around and find something to distract me. Or maybe it's just the way I am programmed, to only care in situations where I am sure. 

It is insanely powerful to be able to have such control. To love and never be lost. To give and always get in return. To forget but never be forgotten.

Tuesday, 9 November 2010

Indecision

I realized today that it's possible to look forward to something without completely wanting it.

To need but deny.
To hope but forget.
To believe but pretend.
To hate but befriend.
To stop but suggest.
To hold but drift.
To wish but fret.
To love but regret.

Sunday, 7 November 2010

The Cycle

Snap
it breaks
everything thats hidden
everything thats safe
suddenly
screaming 
talking out loud. 

Poof 
it leaves
everything that mattered
everything that stayed
suddenly
vanishing
struggles in vane. 

Flash 
it regenerates
everything that rotted
everything that decayed
suddenly 
appearing 
brightest in shade. 

Saturday, 6 November 2010

Revenge

I had the strangest dream last night. Suddenly out of no where, I stood up for myself and spoke out loud. I finally said what I should have years ago. I finally let go off all the pain and self destruction. For one moment, I became free.

And then I got up.

Monday, 1 November 2010

What scares you the most? Is it knowing that you are alone or knowing that you are constantly being watched? Is it knowing that everything is nothing or knowing that everything could actually be something? Is it holding on too tight or letting go too quickly? Does it worry you that life is too short or that life may go on forever? Is it in knowing that you are most scared of or is it the unknown that cripples you?

What scares you the most?

For me, it's fear itself.

Thursday, 28 October 2010

Night Lights


I love how the night-lights look, just lines of hope stretched across the city. They hide every crevice and create the illusion that everything is actually beautiful and perfect. They lie and pretend that every corner of the city is actually equal, that every human dwelling is the same. Before the night-lights, all the hunger, poverty, sadness, despair, illness and death are hidden and silent.

It’s the night-lights that comfort me every night as I travel home, that cocoon me and protect me from the demons that cripple me with fear. They are like all the other lies and pretensions I feed myself. They create my less-threatening parallel universe.

For tonight, these lights are my best friends. 

Saturday, 23 October 2010

Because inspiration is a simple word.


Stop
In track
Hold on
Fear all you leave behind
Turn
Reconsider
And then
Move on
Slow down
And when he stops looking
Run, run, run.

There is always room for inspiration and then there is room for thoughtless thoughts, uncontrolled desire, passionate dreams and fearless living. There’s always room for more, always room to become someone else.

Leaving You


And I am leaving you like I always do
Broken twice, left bright blue
And I am forgetting every fight
Burning the scars, leaving black behind
And I am done with every promise
Tearing every memory, red and cruel
And I am moving to the next plane
Charged thrice, purple orange hue
And I am leaving 
leaving, like I always do.



Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Changing, as always.


Everyday as I get up, what keeps me going? How do I stay motivated?

I guess it’s partly routine, the moment I get stuck in rhythm it becomes easy to do it the same way everyday. At least for a while, I stay focused and enjoy the easy feeling of repetition. But then slowly my short attention span takes over and I need something else to keep me charged.

As the office timings change, I suddenly feel a little lost. Not because the work I am doing has changed. Not even because I spend lesser time with people I care about, but because I have suddenly found more time for myself in the morning.

I have been programmed to believe that the first half of the day is the most productive. Earlier I had no trouble wasting my time just lying around when I got home after office because I knew that I had spent a whole day constructively. There was no room for guilt.

This has got me thinking about how simple it is to fool the human mind. My mind now thinks I have more time and I need to put it to constructive use. So perhaps, I will. And hopefully, my brain will be fooled for long enough to let me create a routine around it.  

Wednesday, 13 October 2010

Flavor of the month

I have always known about my split-second attention. Before I fully think about something, a new idea crops up and poof goes my interest. One moment I am moving full speed, totally excited, and then I change direction and move another way, equally excited. 

On most days, I have a good handle on my impulsiveness. I channelize it towards meaningless things like my need to talk to someone different everyday or to go to new places. But then there are days like today, when my stupid brain leads me from one idea to another. Before I figure one out, my brain has flitted to another. I never know when I'll get bored or just when too little becomes too much. I also don't know why it happens at the exact moment that the idea actually becomes logical and the initial anxiety has passed. 

Perhaps its "the chase" that keeps me engaged. The need to learn more, to dwell deeper, to capture something and then once I fully own it, to finally let it go. Perhaps its the idea of completely experiencing something and then moving on. I don't know. All I know is that even I find it impossible to keep track of my limitless infatuations. 

On days like today, I just wish I could stop and be boring for a while, do the same thing repetitively, or just fall completely, madly and insanely in love with an idea, any idea.  

Tuesday, 21 September 2010

Mind Game

Skip the introduction
Move quickly to the next
Ignore the contradiction
Capture, don't suggest. 

Hold onto my attention 
React to every threat
Mimic my imagination
Offer, don't expect. 

Recognize the transition
Rush as you interpret
Track each movement
Watch, don't correct. 

Sense the nearing end
Lay down the last bet 
Close with precision 
Leave and forget. 

Tuesday, 14 September 2010

Just a thought

I grew up as an optimistic, confident, paranoid girl. I was paranoid about death, ghosts, men, accidents, thunderstorms, flights, new places, new people, snakes, insects, failure. I was scared of so many things that fear itself scared me. So I learnt to deal with it. I am twenty one, still paranoid, still confident. 

Love Poem?

Lately a lot of people have asked me why I only post poetry on my blog. Each time I simply list out the advantages of ambiguity and abstraction. People always buy my argument. 

But is that really it?

Is abstraction really that important to me? Do I really need to hide behind vagueness? Also, isn't poetry specific enough to make me just as vulnerable? Perhaps it is. Then what is it that keeps me from posting my daily rants on this blog? Honestly, there is no real reason and laziness would qualify just as much as fear. 

So today I am going to make an exception. I am going to write freely, without confining my thoughts to the structure of rhythm and meter. Today I am going to write just because writing makes me happy and releases the captive emotions that I so cleverly hide. 

______________________________________________________________

Love Poem

As I sat there watching her rummage through her cupboard, find her things, throw them in a bag and walk out with my hand in hers, I felt my first real heartbreak. I was eight. I learnt very quickly that love is limitless, that love is unbound and most importantly, that love is fiction. 

* * *

They were my best friends and I could see how happy they were. I watched them as they fell in love and even as they fell out of it. I was in love with the idea of love. As they - infatuated with each other - made and broke promises of togetherness, I felt my next real heartbreak. I was thirteen. I learnt that love is beautiful, that love is miraculous and most importantly, that love is deceitful. 

* * * 

We argued about everything. We started with a fight and ended with it. As I heard him crying in my drawing room, pleading my mother to understand his love for me, I felt the greatest heartbreak of all. I was seventeen. I learnt that love is crazy, that love is passionate and most importantly, that love is flitting. 

* * *

He had a way with words, a sense of calm surety that drew me to him. He silently stood behind me through every ebb and flow. As I waited for him that one last time, I felt my numb heart thaw and break, yet again. I was nineteen. I learnt that love is permanent, that love is stable and most importantly, that love is fragile. 

* * *

I was sure that this was it. That there had to be a reason that kept brining us back together, that kept pulling and gnawing into my very being. As I read everything that he wrote to her, I felt my heart break one final time. I learnt that love is adventurous, that love is exciting and most importantly, that love is illusory.  

________________________________________________________________________

Wednesday, 1 September 2010

Love Past

You are a color on the horizon 
sharp, diffused.

You are a whisper in my silence
heard, refused. 

You are a shadow on the rearview
cherished, used.

You are a fraction of my deception
mollycoddled, abused.


Sunday, 29 August 2010

Goodbye

And then he turns to her…
“Save me”, he says.

[Is thunder enough to shake her?
Or does she need the rain?
She told him it’s all over,
Then why did he turn again??]

She looks at him,
And asks herself
“Why?”

[Friends don’t kill each other
Then why did she let him die?]

Tears stream down
Crying for him
Crying for her
Is there anyone to blame?

Sorrow erases sorrow
And pain soothes pain
He holds her hand in his
She firmly pulls it away.

“It’s over”, she repeats,
Loud and clear.

Can relief be enough reason??
Can love sway?

[Yes, she did love him deeply
But it faded away.]

He looks at her
And weeps

And with each drop
Her soul: hardening

This is the last goodbye.

Her joy
His grief

[What grows together…
Doesn’t always die in oneness…
It’s a sad picture
Sorrow begging, misery]

She turns
He turns

Knowing so well
They may never meet
But in their hearts
She knows
He feels
There is never a goodbye.

Every tear they cry,
Will heal.

My Father Wrote Me Poems


In my mothers womb

I heard a voice talk
Unlike other infants
And to my mothers wrath,
It was my father sharing
Many of his thoughts.


One day about a prince
The other day about some frogs
But the best was only one
The one told everyday
About dolls and frocks.


As I grew from womb to school
He taught me how to dance
How to spell my name
How to walk
Everything…. [Memory fades away]


Then one night as I slept
I heard him softly walk away
I pretended to be asleep
And he preferred it that way
I guess he was scared
Scared, I would blame.


I never stopped him
And he never stayed
We slowly grew apart
And things began to change
I learned to live without him
To dance my own way
I even learned to write
Though our style's grew astray


Then one day
15 years from the last in womb
I sent him a poem
I wanted to know what he thought
If he thought I could rhyme


A year passed
And no reply
I gave up
But continued to write.


4th of June: Today


I opened up my mail
Scanning through birthday cards,
I saw his name
I wondered what it was about
Wishing it was “happy birthday”.


He had written a single word
The one I’ll never forget
Fairies dwarfs and little frocks
Can never correct that day


“Goodbye”, he wrote
Everything else left unsaid


My father always wrote me poems.
This was the last one he sent.

Last Words

Furious thoughts
unevenly spread
Scribble, scribble
quibble, quibble


Addicted
Dipped in ink
Inspiration flowing
Attended, passed.


One idea,
Then another instead.

Using, abusing
Ranting ahead
Jotting, blotting
Said, still unsaid


Cross out
Write again
Frustrated, determined
Driven, insane

Crush the paper
Throw away the pen


Words knifed across the arm
Hate inscribed
and left to interpret


Deed done

Life lost
A final word
and at it, left

Clouds


Suddenly they separate
Falling like tears from a dream
Drop by drop
Touching me
Wiping away ink from paper
breaking and shaking
word by word
reaching out
leaving me dishevelled
With only memories
tear by tear
washing me

Smile in Stone




Frosted emotions 
Kept unseen
Latched in boxes
Sewn in seams

Voiceless feelings
Hidden inside
Knotted and crushed
Put out of sight

Bustling anger
Jostling tears
Curtains drawn
Concealed fears

Silenced guilt
Empty screams
Tearless hurt
Broken dreams

Almost said
Then left alone
Too scared to cry?
So smile in stone.

Hear My Heart

Stifling within
I want you to know
It’s tearing me apart
Beginning to show

Hear the words
I do not say
Feel the things
I can’t portray


Chorus
Grant me loved wings
Let me soar
Hear my heart
Give it a cure


See the tears
I cried so long
Silence covers
All my sound


And I look at you
So calm, sincere
Your eyes speak
Why won’t you care?


Chorus


Hold me close
Hear me say
Love me now
Don’t go away


It kills me so
Can’t keep this inside
I love you
Don’t want it to hide


Chorus*2 (fade)

Burned Memories

A brown tattered album
Frayed by hands of the past
Yellowed termite eaten pages
Memories burned and aghast

Old frayed thoughts
Touching faces captured in pose
Looking and feeling
An era of long ago

A smile etched on paper
A tear cried and captured
Wine, salt and emotions
Left to enrapture

Last threads that tie
Today with yesterday
Pictures in history
Imprinted again in memory

Dreamer

Walking alone
Solitude or loneliness?
A slow merging reality
Questioning destiny
Heart or mind?
Me or mine?
No record left
No way back
Weighted passions
Stabbing and belittleing
Dreamer from somewhere
Merchandising reality
Giving up everything
In search for an illusion

You, I and the miles in-between

Two separate nations,
divided by land and sea.
Living in different time-zones,
far away: you, and me.

Yet, love cuts through distance,
feelings travel over miles
hearts beat together
sending love, across time.

Relying on instinctive trust
Moving with unsure-surety.
Born worlds apart,
hoping, someday, to meet.

Growing closer:
unshaken, forsaken: reality,
there, for a moment,
we forget.

And almost touch
caught in bliss, in mockery.
And then again, we remember:
you, I and the miles in-between.

Love Memoir

Rock-cut intricately
woven in a gold chain
A diamond heart
lost and estranged

Another:
A scented letter
agelessly written
worded in loving pain

Picture of togetherness
those sad-happy days
of deceitful romance
casting loves embrace

Once again
I stumble on memories
diamonds and letters
lovers, loved and gone
cared, hurt and withdrawn,
leaving treasures to remind.

A teardrop and it’s over
cutting across ages

sifting through time
smile for those thoughts
for pain, sublime.

Ludicrous Painting

Fragile, beautiful, complete
venomous beauty

she looks like him
she frowns like him.
Even that smile
striking grace.

Tightly held,

treasured for sure.
Bundled in assurance
cuddled in security
in hands that walked me,
giving her

borrowed love

I look at the man she’s with
A loving glance,
Not returned.
His eyes are mine,

yet the love is hers.

There must be a reason
for her to take my place
ruin the memory

Scar the face
He still loves me.

Ludicrous painting
My father
fathering her.

Small Mercy

A quiet peaceful woman
Rosary clutched tightly
Clad in white
Thick rimmed glasses
Toothless smile


Young minds cross her
Everyday
No one stops
Shouting, questioning,
They walk away.
Small mercy: she’s deaf


She sits by the window
Looking outside
Seeing a world
That’s left her behind


She gets up happy
To be beaten and unfed
Left in the hands of selfish regret
Small mercy: she forgets.


She stares at today
But faces yesterday
Her face is hopeful
Her emotions: inept


She looks at her world
Fragrances of flowers
Beauty and smiles.
Small mercy: she’s immobile.


An enchanting woman
In a disheveled body:
Broken legs
Deaf ears
Chained in Alzheimer’s.
Small mercy: her heart is fed
Her soul is complete
Her dreams are covered
Her thoughts in-shield

Unsaid

It was unsaid
He was gone


[Last night he was here
And things seemed alright
But happiness doesn’t last
It vanished with the night]


She cried
They cried
not together
Each to his own


[He was the man of the house
And now they felt unprotected,
Forlorn]


She was crossing by their room
And heard a muffled cry
It broke her heart
But she only sighed


[Personal pain
Weighs far more]


Walked past the door
Walked past her child
Guilt glistened in her eyes
Nothing more to say


[Thought: he was selfish
Leaving them alone]


It breaks her heart
He just comes and goes

Just when they move on
The past knocks at their door


[it a sad painting
together yet lonesome]


Last night
He came on impulse
Took them to dinner
Leaving her at home


[She brings them up
He takes them away
The pain is hers
The pleasure all his]


She glances at her driveway
Sees him walking away
And he looks back
His tear stricken face


[Both with tears
Weeping all alone]


And it hits her
He’s gone
Once again
Leaving her alone
Alone with her pain


[The kids to feed
The household to run]


They said that one single word
“Divorced”
Since then she’s the same
Teaching them
Feeding them
Cleaning and working


It was
And is unsaid
He comes and goes
And in the end
They are all alone
Alone with their pain.

Together, Alone

Eyes that look
not at,
but through


Ears that hear
their own
silent voices


Words that speak
and caress
only the speaker


Minds that dream
shallow thoughts
of selfish destruction

Lonely crowd
each to his own
living his death

You

I wrote a promise
and sealed it with dew
perfumed it with love
and blew it to you


I captured a dream
treasured in memory
I sent you the thought,
and set it free


I whispered a prayer
And silently craved
for serenity and peace
then gave you my fate


I carved a sculpture
hands steady and true
molding till perfection
then saw it grow into you.

I painted my masterpiece
of a late night beach
You were there
Just a little out of reach.



I kept looking for gifts
and searching for things to do
but there is no price to give
that can bring me you.

I closed my eyes
dissapointment and tears
I felt a touch and saw,
YOU, wiping my fears.

Don't Turn

Shut the window
what you see is not today.
Those dreams, those sounds,
belong to yesterdays.
Draw the curtain,
conceal your fear,
obstruct your thoughts,
pretend not to hear.
That kiss, that smell
that cushioned embrace,
block those eyes
constrict the space.
Kill your senses,
dont let them feel.
Murder the desire,
let wounds heal.
Ease your past,
soothe your grief,
sense the closure,
bow and leave.

Unquenchable Remembrance

Wet lips quivered and said,
“I’ll forget, you’ll forget.”
Words left to resound
in their heads.

She turns
He turns
Knowing so well,
they may never meet.
A last glimpse
their love, past tense.

_________________________________


That was months ago.
Today again, she sits and writes,
but instead of words
memories creep inside.

The smile that was his
the magic in the kiss
the power of his hold
the songs that were told
the endless surprise
the language in his eyes

This time her poem is complete,
words unsaid,
on a tear-lined sheet.

She whispers,
hoping for him to hear,
“I said I would forget
but here I stand,
drowned in memory.
I said you would forget
but here I stand
askance, do you remember?”

Friday Mournings

I tip-toe down the stairs,
trying hard to remain silent.
Like every Friday,
the house is enveloped
in a wisp of chocolate air.


I slide into the kitchen,
she's standing near the sink.
Hair smudged in flour,
hands covered in sugar,
busily mixing ingredients.


I kiss her cheek
without expectations.
I tell her I am leaving,
pick up my bag,
and hurriedly say goodbye.


I sit in my bus
and close my eyes.
I recollect Fridays gone by
and each has only
one thing in common, Chocolate.

It's been twenty years now
since her first chocolate.
She was baking for him,
with very little time,
she cooked in her red chiffon dress.

Even today she sits by the window
chocolate by her side
waiting for a man, long gone.
and like her first mourning
the chocolate is thrown away, uneaten.