A warm summer night
Can blister my skin.
Make me pray
For the slightest breeze.
Make my eyes droop with fatigue.
Keep me awake.
Dangling just out of reach of slumber.
But if you say my name
In your hushed tone.
If you look at me
With equal laze in your eyes.
It can cool me inside
Like a submersion into the sea.
I can't wait for the winter
Somewhere within the levels of the conscious
between the bowels of the deep and
the deepness of my thought
I am caught
in the secrets that I keep
in the darkness of my sleep where
I cry in waterfalls of tears and joy
the unhappiness of fears
employ and use me
or so it seems.
These dreams see fit to haunt me
and sleeping draughts have no effect.
This dissatisfaction that I feel
peels away and when the day has come
wonder why the sun still lights the sky
and wonder why it does not light my heart.
Do I need to look upon the charted stars up there
to understand myself and know just where and when
I go to then
will that make me a better man
if I learn to understand the master plan
and is there such a map.
'I need a slap to wake me up' but I think that's a fallacy
dreamers like me need no such thing.
Each morning I bring a bucket to the well with wishes in my head
and these are fed up through the day
into my conscious thought
and once again I find I'm caught
my thoughts should pay attention to what is going on
before I even know it
the fleeting hours have run away
The night would say,
'it serves you right you've got what you deserve,
I reserve the right to kick against the night
and rest my case.
Tonight, I dare to hope.
I dare to hope that you will work.
I was afraid,
I afraid that you would just disappear
like all of the other men.
Is it too soon, my dear?
Is it too soon to hope?
Well, it might be,
but there is a little hope,
a little hope that you will stay,
a little hope that what you say is true.
I will try not to hope to much.
I keep pushing it down.
But I think I'll take the risk;
I think I'll take that chance,
and hope just a little.
it's quiet here
in my liar's empire
they say i'm
they say i'm
they say i'd
and that i
might have tried
wouldn't be surprised
couldn't see it
in his eyes
in my eyes
it's in my eyes
you'd be surprised
inside my eyes
it's quiet here
inside my lies
You say you care for them truly
Yet you do things which make them unhappy
You tell them you treasure the relationship that you share
Yet you cause them hard feelings they can't bear
You assure them that they can always count on you when life gets rough
Yet when you fail to be a shoulder, you leave them no choice but to get tough
Words without actions are dead, they said
Just thoughts and feelings that are thrown out of your head
But what you think and feel only matter to you
Not to me, not to them, not to anyone's point of view
It's what you do to the people you say you love that matters
That's the only thing that matters
Yesterday, you were once a child
Who was innocent and mild
Your genuine smile was a sign of happiness
And every act you did had a touch of gentleness
Your room had everything you were after
And the outside world didn't ever matter
You knew completely where you belong
And it seemed like nothing could go wrong
Today, you have to accept that you have grown up
Must know when to speak and when to shut up
Smile if you should, whether you mean it or not
And when life knocks you out, just take another shot
Realize that your room was just a tiny box
It was never the reality full of cottons and rocks
Lucky if you find your place in this world so strange
And if not, it will always be you who will have to change
Tomorrow, it may not be of value who you were yesterday
Should have to make a stand, no matter what others will say
But there will always be an exception to every rule
Wisely choose your beliefs so as to avoid creating a fool
However, if a circumstance dictates that fooling yourself is a must
Then cope with it and gain yourself a trust
Besides, change being inevitable means everything can vanish
But still, leave a mark at least, which your ascendants will cherish
Under my rainbow
The stars shimmer bright,
And blanket the earth
With an emerald light,
The birds sing their songs
Into the softest of sighs,
And they linger as long
As they want in our skies.
Here, our morning sings wonders
That dance through the trees,
To enchant every dew drop
Touched by the soft breeze.
Clear through to the mountains,
All capped with their white,
That shine like a beacon
Through our whispering night.
Under my rainbow,
The colors that shine
Will blaze a fierce wonder
To fire your mind.
The Orchids all bloom,
And they're never the same.
And the stars up above,
They call you by name.
There are no teardrops, my boy,
Unless they're teardrops of joy.
There is never a frown
To linger around.
There is never a someone
You can't call your friend.
There is never a heart
It cannot mend.
Every Hollyhock petal
At play in the breeze
Will nod as you walk through
Our Poppletoff Trees.
Every Raspberry Rose
On our Emerald Isle
Oh, they'll fire and bloom
To your wonderful smile.
Each Cornflower Willow
Will whisper your way,
Sprinkling stardust in
All of their play.
Under my rainbow,
When we sleep, when we dream,
We see worlds and wonders
No other has seen.
There is never a rush,
There is never a when,
Though the twilight may blush
Time and again.
Though the firefly lingers
With each tender hello,
And the mountain tops glisten
With their new fallen snow.
To inspire your Muse,
And then set her free.
She'll show you those wonders
That few ever see!
Here is my solitude,
Where there's rest for my soul,
Under a rainbow
That few ever know.
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Remler
"You see things; and you say, "Why?"
But I dream things that never were;
and I say, "Why not?"
-George Bernard Shaw
I'm always falling for girls who are arrows shot through the hearts of prodigal sons.
You've been in my head for days.
I've been clinging to your later
Like a shipwrecked sailor
Clings to the shattered bow
As the ocean tries to swallow him whole.
You swallowed me whole,
And you barely even opened your mouth;
Just wide enough for me to taste honey
And see stars that have been three nights creating haloes around my drunken head.
But you'll only hold my hand in the shadows;
You'll only ask me how I am if you know the answer will be
I've got you under my skin
But you're under it, girl.
You're seven layers deep,
And suddenly you're rushing through my bloodstream
And filling my body with a five-dime dream
That is only of your face.
Everyone knows that web of red veins
All lead back to the heart.
So I'm putting up fences
But leaving gaps between the posts
So when you’ve circulated my system
and I can feel you tingling electricity in every one of my cells
It’ll look like the bars I’ve put up were to keep you out
But really the space between was to let you in.
I’ll be shining a light so bright that maybe you’ll grow powdered wings
and flutter towards me like a moth who can’t ignore the flame for even one more second.
You’re more like a butterfly though.
When I look at you I see every colour;
I see grace and beauty, and in your voice I hear a melody so sweet it makes me wonder
whether you’re a girl,
Or if maybe you’re a songbird.
Maybe you build a new nest every night
From twigs and feathers and broken hearts.
You showed me a cutting of your old boyfriend’s hair
That you keep in your wallet
Because you dream of recreating him.
I thought if I knew how I’d make an army of this boy for you,
I’d carve his face from limestone
And give him blossoms for eyes
But I’d give him my lips,
So that when you kissed him I’d taste you.
And it’s not like I’d make you,
But inside my head we’re every day making each other laugh;
We’re every day running through dappled fields,
Calling each other’s names,
Smelling each other’s hair.
It’s the sweetest thing.
That’s all I really want to say
Is that you make me smile and dream,
And sometimes I’m looking at your face
For just a bit longer than you’re looking at mine,
And in the half-light I think,
Isn’t she beautiful.
In the hustle and bustle of a metropolitan city, I searched you down. Stalked, hunted and fished you out. Out of the 7 billion people, I found you, and that was all which mattered. You. Your hair still soft and ruffled with care, you lips still pink without usage, or so I hoped, your eyes, sparkling as always behind your thin framed silver glasses. You, with your bold look, walking across the streets like you own them. You, with you heavy and slow steps walking to your destination with a purpose to conquer. You.
And in that unknown city, so far away from the root of our existence, with mindless honks of drivers and a play of lights everywhere, I found somebody that I used to know. A face not forgotten, yet changed, eyes which haunted reappeared and a voice which lingered rung in my ears. I found you.
I would purposely bump into you, pretending to be in a hurry, pretending to not recognize the only face embedded in my soul, drop my valuables, say something like my identification card, give you a quick smile and a sorry and run off and disappear into the wave of the crowd.
You would just stare at the card. Be reminded of a life so distant, possibly a life forgotten, probably forcefully. Be reminded of how a girl, crazy and wild, young in her years, had come and gone from your life. Be reminded of the question you always used to ask yourself "what happened?"
I would hide to see your face grow white. You had just seen a ghost. A ghost of your past, who you had forcefully left behind. Now, after decades of separation, years spent not even giving it a second thought, years spent away, you were reminded again. The fire was lit again. The fire which made you pick up the card, stare at the number and automatically dial it up. I would say "hello", at which you would cut the call still unsure of what you would say. Scanning, devising a plan, you would call again, only this time you would talk.
"Hello", I would say confused.
"I found your wallet miss, remember you bumped into me earlier?"
"oh yes thank god for you sir. Tell me where you are and I shall come and pick it up."
and with that you would let yourself go.
after all, a "hi" i all we need to melt, to fall, to die, all over again right?
and with that I woke up to the alarm screaming in my ears to remind me that reality still persisted, and that it would take more than a dream to get you back.
The last few passengers hopped on catching their breaths with a huff and a puff and taking the remaining seats where they could, while handling their bags in one hand and their mufflers and hats with the other. It was just an ordinary day for them. A day when work and reaching their office on time was the only thing they could think about. A day when half their time on the launch was spent worrying if the Tiffin box packed so lovingly by their wives toppled over to create a mess. A day when they couldn't stop and stare. A day when materialism came before appreciating nature’s beauty.
Kolkata woke up one fine chilly morning to a sky set ablaze. There was always something about Kolkata and its lights that intrigued me. The perfection with which every corner was lit just as much as it should be, the hidden eye candy which could only be seen if you look into your soul to appreciate. Worshipers from all over flocked to the ghats to offer their prayers. And with the mindless honking of the city behind them and the open river in front, they dipped themselves in continuously to be forgiven of their sins. As they lifted their folded hands above their heads to pray and dipped themselves, they made the water all around them make huge ripples which were lost in the vastness of the mighty river. And with that, they were forgiven of their wrong doings, or at least that’s what they believed.
The engines roared to life as one of the crew, miserably opened the ropes and threw them on board after ringing a bell. I stood in one corner of the launch eyeing Kolkata, taking every bit of it in - its morning awakening, its old red bricked buildings, or at least the ones which still stood straight, its ghats green with moss and over crowded with devotees, its icy cold winter morning, and the current of the river beneath the launch floor. Kolkata had woken up to one of the coldest days in recent history. 9 degrees and the wind was up. On the Ganga it felt as if I had come away to some faraway land, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, to find peace. Silence surrounded me and the only sound faintly audible was the low whistle of the breeze brushing past my cheeks kissing them which felt like tiny needles poking me all at once.
The water looked like liquid glass, floating away to infinity and beyond, as far as my eyes took my vision. As the launch turned to face its destination the Howrah Bridge came into view. Standing tall with its two gigantic pillars the sun peeped from between the cables to shine on the water creating a river of gold while the sun’s reflection seemed a ball of fire just within our reach. The bridge cast huge shadows causing a sudden darkness to arise in the water which otherwise seemed ablaze.
Across the river the world waiting for me felt distant. Was civilization actually that beautiful? Or did nature just wrap its covers around to hide the flaws of mankind, his ruthlessness, his ignorance towards other beings and its lack of humanity? The dashes of green popped out of the corners of towering buildings, as sun cast its golden rays on them creating shadows on the opposite side.
The small boats sailed on as the launch took me from bank to bank. The rowers sat at the back on the edge with their rows half immersed in the water. And as the currents made them flow by, the ripples came and hit our launch and travelled back into the vastness and disappeared. They sailed through the disturbed water, and its shadows sailed alongside. The rivers serenity was contrasted with the blobs of weed floating by, entangled with driftwood and mixed with shiny cloths, probably the leftovers of the previous durga puja celebrations.
The sky was a game of colors by now. The sun, still a ball of fire, was slowly creeping upwards, the light grey clouds just behind it shot rays of gold down through the gaps they found on the world below, the sky otherwise was a play of grey, blue, red and orange set in order from the ground upwards without a definite point of distinction. A group of three birds, crows most probably, flew overhead enjoying the sun’s late arrival to the cold morning.
My hands reached for the railing. I gripped the rods tightly looking for security. I looked around me to spot the different lives sailing with me. Some on their phones, some sat with their eyes glued to the cold blank floor, as if they didn’t deserve to be uplifted by nature’s display of her beauty, some staring down at their watches to scrutinize each second to realize how late there were while others stood with a blank expression staring out onto the river, probably going over what they did wrong, playing the images on repeat, making themselves miserable. Me? I stood leaning on the railing looking out also. But I wasn’t in my misery. My misery was behind me. I looked forward to life. And for now I looked forward to my destination. And amongst the crowd I was alone. This was my moment and mine alone. No one could have robbed me of this moment, and no one can make me forget.
The river gave me peace of mind. Its tranquility and its continuity made an energy of constancy flow within me. A belief that this too shall pass, that every moment shall pass. Never ending was its path. A path which life had chosen. Who are we to disrupt it? Who are we to stop? Life flowed on. And times were not always smooth sailing. There will be waves rocking you, making you lose your balance, there will be rocks at the bottom, sometimes holding you together while other times damaging your base. With time and distance the river will get polluted, but it all depends on what you want to show and what you choose to see. It will be used, to its maximum capacity, with only a handful of souls to stop and think about it and do something about it to the best of their abilities. Things varying in all sizes will cross it, sail by without paying any heed to the water beneath it making them sail smoothly, never appreciating it, and soon it becomes a part of them which they pay no attention to it. It will always be there though. Its existence will always prevail over it being ignored. And when you stop to think, it’ll be there pushing you along the way, to your destination, where you will have to say goodbye to the picture perfect moments, the soul touching feelings and the voice within you which screams in its silence to set yourself free.