You reply to my smiles with a nod,
To my words with a smile,
To my letters with a pat on the back,
And, I pine for more from you, for more of you,
Thinking that your eyes look through me,
That I don’t exist for you.
I cry myself to sleep,
And then I'm at peace.
But,
What if you start responding to my love,
Start to understand my feelings,
Start warming up to me,
Could I withstand that force,
Could I bear the love,
Could my tiny heart stand this new battle?
Once drowned, could I ever surface?
Pointless strolling takes up the greater part of my existence,
Too afraid to pick a path,
Even for my morning walk.
Dozens of shallow relationships, veiled by anonymity,
Afraid of commitment,
Like they could gobble me up.
Never gonna do anything.
Thousands of excuses for why I cannot,
Not a single one for why I must.
Dozens of unedited drafts, not a single one published.
I never realise that I cannot postpone life,
And I am too disinterested to take interest in it.
Tired of being tired of being tired. Been here only for 20 odd years, yet feels like…
My eyes want to cry, but my spirit says to them hold on, hold on.
I know I will not stop until I’ve finished the job.
Pain is my only friend,
Leisure and pleasure — strangers.
I refuse to settle for the mediocre,
I refuse to settle for applause,
For, I ought to impress myself before others.
Even if it goes against my own will,
I will do what I set out to do,
I will be what I set out to be.
I will not be the slave of my former self.
And thus, I set out to conquer myself.
I don’t want the selfless and caring kind of love.
I want the kind of love that is cruel and vindictive.
I want the kind of love that I can’t have,
The love that I don’t deserve,
The love that is difficult to preserve.
I want the kind of love that is too hot to handle,
The love that is too far for me to reach,
The love that is too dear that it hurts.
I don’t want the kind of love that loves me back, I want the love that makes me pine, The love that makes me lose…
As time unveils more
Of you, I’m afraid what lies
Beneath the façade.
Periwinkles in the smile, periwinkles in the smile!
Twinkle in her eyes, twinkle in her eyes!
Wrinkles in her brow, with love aglow.
Early Sun rays sneaking in through the window,
The moon taking a bow.
I didn’t want the night to end.
Dawn, in all its beauty, can be a spoilsport.
Go on, seduce the moon, I told her,
And sketch the stars in the sky with your smile.
Dawn must never arrive.
All the villagers gathered around the Zen Master as he was on the threshold of another elusive endeavour. He was on his deathbed. The sobbing villagers were worried that they wouldn’t have anyone to guide them in the future.
The wise master nodded understandingly. He declared, “Worry not,
Oh, pious people! I shall leave my spirit with you through my parting words.”
And thus spake the Zen Master,
When at life’s trough,
When you think enough is enough.
When it’s the dusk of your fountain of youth,
When you are withering from foot to tooth.
When Time comes to collect…
She dived onto him, and he, into her. It was spontaneous, like it was the most normal thing to do then. Thus began the divine dance of the two sexes.
It was the meeting of heaven and earth. Thunder roared. Rain thrashed. But the heat within them could make the sun sweat.
They consumed each other like passion usually entailed. They both knew there are no boundaries for passion. Neither of them were in control. Neither of them were leading. An external, universal force, far more powerful than the two of them was guiding them.
They were more joint than separate. They were more one than two.
The heat stirred the lava in the two dormant volcanoes. Both of them erupted at one go, destroying everything around them, the heavenly dance coming to an end.
I once fell in love with a poet.
We understood each other very well. I thought so.
I was banking on that.
He brought me to the pinnacle of pleasure and simply pushed me down.
I once fell in love with a poet.
He already had made the hard choice between sanity and genius.
But I knew that great love entails great understanding.
And I paid the price for it.
I once fell in love with a poet.
I wrote him passionate letters and candid poems describing my feelings for him,
thinking he’d better understand me that way.
He analysed…
If I could tell you
Of all the times I’d wait for
You to come to me
If I could tell you
’Bout all the times you broke my
Heart so heartlessly
If I could tell you
The times I opened up to
You, and you mocked me
If I could tell you
All the tears I shed for you,
And the smiles forgone
If I could tell you
All the stories of my heart,
For once, you listen,
And understand how I feel,
If only I could tell you……
Tired of a normal life. Afraid of a different one. I’ve taken refuge in Poetry and dreams. Aspiring Aspirer. Steppenwolf.