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Meenakshi Iyer Jan 2019
When I stand on rooftops
I tend to scan my options;
hard concrete, soft bushes,
or the corner site of construction.

On the highway in a cab
I calculate the force of momentum,
passing trucks that could easily crush
any object that rolled out in random.

On the shore of a noisy sea,
while others frolic I look to the line
that always beckons so sweetly,
it's the end what I think to find.

Passing trains and sharp knives,
the blunted razor in my shower,
bags of plastic in my house
the thoughts come at any hour.

It never really does go away,
the desire to shut my eyes and forget,
but like a game of cards, I place my hand
to hear my like pulse beat, " Not yet."
Meenakshi Iyer Jan 2019
I have learnt so much from books,
I'm always attached to one.
But as I read them I realise,
they've learnt so much from the world.

They've evolved with the world,
in their language and punctuations,
used our ways to narrate,
stretched themselves from drama
to horror, business  and science fiction.
They've changed their shape and form
to keep her in their lure;
short, graphic and sometimes still in volumes
they've left us asking for more.

I have learnt so much from books
I'm always attached to one
but as I read them I realise
our lessons are not done.
We are yet to pick up,
the grace of ending chapters,
the art of reading between the lines
and tolerate them cliffhangers.
We are yet to find our balance
between our chosen characters
delve deeper into the complexity
of simplistic and unsaid words.

Beyond all this I've learnt
to keep bookmarks in those pages,
those moments that made my story
different from all others,

I have learnt so much from books,
I'm always attached to one,
It is the one that I am currently writing,
And I need to get to the final chapter

I need to get to the part where I write
She lived happily ever after.
Meenakshi Iyer Jan 2019
You were my golden egg secret
the glass slipper is buried deep,
the spell I never said out loud
the kiss that bested even sleep.

You were the might of thunder
the sword that slayed all evil
the book that held old magic
the love that could turn lethal.

You were my Achilles heel,
the resolve that held me strong,
the arrow to my bow, bullet to my gun
you were my silent soul song.

You were an untold fairytale
and I may have ripped the chapter
that would bring you to life, this early demise
has now wrecked my happily ever after.
Meenakshi Iyer Jan 2019
It takes a different kind of courage
to survive hope;
to resist the call,
of the bottomless pit,
to refrain from the comfort
of an always full glass,
to stay put on the ledge
when the wind nudges,
and all things to come
seem worse than what has passed.

It takes a different kind of stupid
to deny despair;
to embrace the notion
of affording second chances,
to echo the chant
that some things are meant to be,
to take solace in knowing
there are better possibilities,
and keep telling your worst
you haven't yet seen the best of me.
Meenakshi Iyer Jan 2019
I'm afraid of the light
because I know what will follow,
I look at corners and worry
about what's hidden in hollows.

I fear climbing up too far,
for the fall down seems painful,
the endless spirals, the familiar ground,
just makes all things good more dreadful.

I feel dizzy when I look up too long
and I almost feel the earth give away,
every turn that doesn't bring doom
makes me anxious of the next day.

I know I can't keep staring into the water
waiting for the abyss to swallow it whole,
but every strike of a match is a reminder,
of how easily it can all go up in smoke.

I wake up with trepidation,
and a veiled sense of hope,
telling myself I've avoided disaster
telling my head, this is our new home.
Meenakshi Iyer Jan 2019
In the past decade,
I have stepped past
the metre of words,
and moved into colorful,
ornate constructions.

Come to use clauses,
taken grueling effort
to reason in taut,
but often found fraught,
elaborate expressions.

So is it any wonder,
I now find it confining,
after failed attempts
to stick to words that need
discipline, rules and timing?

It took a lot of courage
for this form of depiction,
without the cover of metaphors,
leaving little room for
mixed interpretations.

Now my tongue is loose,
and my fingers have found release,
so I shall explore this discourse,
and for a while set aside,
my want to write good poetry.
Meenakshi Iyer Jan 2019
Like the bird that sweeps away
desperate to get away from the tree,
and the butterfly that rattles in its cocoon,
wanting to spread its colors, be seen,
like the paper boat, in its flimsy skin,
waddles down the bumpy watery lane,
I too only looked to go, leave,
I too only looked to escape.

The confines of the past were tight,
like the arms of a sweaty friend,
I did not like so much anymore -
no, I didn't like what the friend did represent.
And in those arms I wriggled and cursed,
no coffee bean or dandelion green
could surpass my level of bitter,
and curse I did,
foul, rank and obscene,
like the gory scene in a massacre movie,
I only slashed and whipped my arms around
to rent every shred of where I belonged,
not wanting to accept everything that I had been.

Self-loathing; in hindsight,
and with a dose of self-esteem,
seems like the mirror
you punch with your fist,
and when down your arm
the blood drips,
and even when your reflection is contorted,
you keep looking.

It seems like the shrill caress
of nails on a board,
it hurts your blood
and shakes your brain cells,
but you can't stop doing it
even you can't take it anymore.

So that sweaty friend released me,
or released myself when I flew,
up, away, so far past
everyone and everything I knew.

Only I walked into a cold river bed,
into a quicksand was where I had led,
sinking so fast into an abyss so strange,
I couldn't hear anything past my thoughts
that kept roaring in my ears,
"This was a mistake!"

Life has a tricky way of
making you realize,
wisdom comes after the pain,
truth only follows lies.
So I fell hard, and thrashed around,
looking for my friend's sweaty arms,
I wanted to be held, comforted,
I wanted to remember it all,
the ups and downs, the regrets and promises
I wanted to recall the good days,
I wanted to go home and course-correct,
I wanted to forgive, and learn to let-go
I wanted to mend my ways.
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