I wasn’t born to write
With every bent petal,
and every fallen leaf,
my ma’s sweet kisses
And papa’s gentle smile
I learned to write

A five year old me was once fascinated
by the loop of an ‘e’
and the playful swing of an ‘m’,
The wide smile of a ‘d’ delighted me
Words were powerful and mesmerising,
now they lie discarded and ignored
in broken stanzas of self proclaimed irrelevance

I watch the black ugly marks
That taints countless sheets of paper
They surround me in a sea of ink
That once flowed carefully and slowly
A thousand thoughts with each single word
Drained lies my mind, my breath’s not a whisper but a plea
My heart pumps blood not ink, I’m not a poet, it says
Incoherent scribblings mock me with their existence

As a child, confined spaces scared me
But now, a confined mind petrifies me with just a glimpse
A pen stays gripped in my hand
I wonder what it fears more
My inability to let the ink flow coherently
Or my arrogant ramblings, regardless
And fearless of consequences
While I stumble on disjointed verses

A paper aeroplane is my best accomplishment
In my two hour search for freedom and thought
Who cares for pretty words and mystifying couplets?
When the idea of a paper boat seems much more exciting

-പ്രിയാന്ഷി ദാസ്‌

Went to the word market
looking for bargains.

found some:    cheap PAIN
                          cheap LOVE
                          HURTS galore.

In the fancy alluring boxes
Almost ****** me in.

Rack on rack:  Disobedience
                          Bad Choices
                          PLEASE NO MORE

All went in **** Bags

Box upon box of
A clean looking place
nothing fancy

I saw baskets full
Running over
                          Faith
                          Hope
                          Love.

­                          Redemption
                          Gr­ace
                          Mercy

ALL WERE FREE.

Some of the same words
used differently...
Love was fulfilling
Pain and Hurts were still there
but in the distant memory.

Redemption and Hope were
in strong demand this time of year.

There was "scent of Rose"
lingering in the air.
Memories of love
caressed my spirit.  

The place was not crowded
the people were the best.