Today,
I did nothing of much importance.
Just listened to some of my favourite tunes,
and ate a tasty lunch.
Thought of a few late retorts
that would have been useful
in an argument I had weeks ago.
Watched the pattern on the floor
made by the fractured sunlight
through the cracks in my window.
Hugged my little sister for a long time
then we talked about useless stuff
and laughed a lot.
Stubbed my toe against the furniture,
used some colourful language.
Had some melty ice cream.
Freaked out a little bit
about my life
and it’s lack of direction.
Shrugged it off
and had another scoop.
Today,
I didn’t get any work done.
Today was a filler day
But today I had some fun.

There was once a little boy, who liked a little girl

and one fine day, by the beach, he found a little pearl.

Thinking of his sweetheart, he picked it up & took it home

and he polished it all day, throughout the night until it shone.



The very next day he put it in a velvet box;

went out whistling, thinking of her golden locks.

He kept thinking of how her eyes would gleam;

how the pretty pearl would make her beam.



He found her swinging on a mighty big swing,

How his heart fluttered when he heard her sing.

The wind catching her hair and tossing it all about;

he thought she was an angel without a doubt.



He clutched the velvet box and took a step forward

then stopped because suddenly he felt like a coward.

What if she spurned his advances & didn’t accept his gift?

Or worse, she thought him funny and had a laughing fit?



His mind in turmoil, his little heart pounding away,

He thought about fleeing 'coz he didn’t know what to say.

Glued to the spot, his prospects sure seemed grim

when suddenly, she turned and looked straight at him.



With no apparent escape he smiled at her tentatively

and like a miracle, she grinned back, the sight so lovely.

Encouraged, he walked up to her and held up his gift;

She reached for it shyly and his spirits started to lift.



As she slowly opened it with a smile upon her lips,

he watched her, fascinated, his heart doing the flips.

When she beheld the shiny pearl, her eyes opened wide;

her obvious pleasure in turn, had him feel overjoyed.



She looked up, her brown eyes warm and sparkling,

cocked her pretty head to the side and kept on looking.

Then after what seemed like ages she finally said,

“It’s really beautiful. Thanks, you are very sweet, Ted.”



Amazed that she knew his name, he said happily,

“It is not more beautiful than you dear Emily!”

She smiled, then laughed good-naturedly at this,

then came closer and gave him a sweet kiss.



His happy heart about to burst, he held her hand;

his love conquest a success, he felt so grand.

He had found his playmate, his first love ever,

his friend, his sweetheart, his life’s pearl forever.

What does it mean to be free?
Does it mean that you live in a place
where you can choose who you want to be?
Take on the world and mold it
in a shape you want to see.

Say what you want to say,
laugh or cry, smile or weep;
take a step forward each day,
or just be still and contemplate
the workings of the Milky Way.

Does it all boil down to having options?
Is this total freedom? Or just one kind?
And what happens after you make decisions?
Does it bring peace to your turbulent mind?
Or guarantee happiness delivered to you
in an envelope all sealed and signed.

Then again, am I asking the right questions?
Or missing the point entirely
What is more important?
To know what freedom is really
or if you can truly ever be free?
Boundlessly. Completely. Essentially.

Guarded dreams, whispered secrets,
summer crushes, December flings,
inside jokes, confessed regrets…

These are but a few things
that we share with each other
without any fear, any misgivings.

You were once a stranger
and now you are my best friend.
my partner in crime, my soul sister.

After all, friendship is all that matters in the end.

Hmm, let me see… Who should I be today?
The person other people think I am
or maybe someone they would like to see.
I could attempt to stand out in a crowd,
easy though it would be to just blend in.
What if I flip a coin to choose between
the good, bad, dark, strong, and weak parts of me.
Of course, I could always just be myself
although, most days, I don’t know who that is.

I walk amid
the silence of broken hearts
and ghosts of the lives never lived.
Oblivious to
the echoes of dashed dreams
and the pall of dampened spirits.

I have received good news
and in this moment,
I am invincible.
Enclosed in a happy bubble,
I let the contentment wash over me.
Later I can return to my troubles
and be part of the crowd again.

The wolves come out to watch
when night falls.
They mean you no harm.
They will not leave.

When night falls,
your silent guardians rise.
They will not leave
until you are ready to wake.

Your silent guardians rise,
sentient of your dreams
until you are ready to wake;
their firefly eyes aglow.

Sentient of your dreams,
they mean you no harm.
Their firefly eyes aglow,
the wolves come out to watch.

Have to forage for words that I can weave
into cogent verses that sound sublime.
Try to hatch a suitable scheme to rhyme,
strain my murky ideas through a sieve,
count syllables – my secret pauper’s peeve.
Must stop watching this TV show and climb
out of bed. Holy smokes! Look at the time!
I need to start writing now, I believe.

Two lovers lost from each other
fell into deep despair;
parted after a brief embrace
after morning prayer.

They could not come together, yet  
were never far away.
Sundry errands kept them busy
with duties of the day.

Twice, they stole away to unite,
their compulsion was such.
Their agitated longing grew
with every glancing touch.

Evening brought with it a reprieve
from their despondent plight.
They rested peacefully at last,
entwined all through the night.

I
smile when
she says she
loves me simply
because that is what
all mothers do. She nods,
indulgent, when I explain
that blood running in our veins like
a river and its tributary
can’t fathom the depth of her ocean heart
Her kindness, her patience, her forgiveness,
her pride and joy, her laughter, her tears,
her kisses, her embrace, her smell,
her strength, her sheer existence,
everything else unique
to her is the tree
under which I
take shelter;
I am
safe.

Who cares
if we are meant to be or not?

You like my eyes,
I like your smile.
Maybe our chemistry
will only last awhile -
You and I both know
the good things never do.
But we are here now,
so let me play a song for you.

Let us drown
in our miseries together;
Doesn't matter
if we don't have a forever.

My story is a mess, it’s going nowhere;
Continuous, never-ending like Penrose stairs.

So let me be the hero of your story —
I’d like to save you, taste some of that hero’s glory.

I will fight off your demons; for you I’ll bleed.
I will listen to you talk if that’s what you need.

I will hold you to me and never let go.
Breathe life into your stone heart, I will kiss you so.

I will help you break the chains and set yourself free
And maybe, someday, you can do the same for me.

One-click shopping,
instant payment –  
so convenient;
so ******* easy
to cross over
from being a shopper
to a low-key hoarder.

I don’t buy expensive stuff.
No, nothing excessive.

Just read about a new book,
must-read of the season,
rave reviews on Goodreads.
Available on Amazon?
Yes, it also has a Kindle version.
(See,
even though there is no comparison
between the warmth of a paperback
and the cool efficiency of e-books,
I prefer my Kindle simply because  
it’s easier to carry multiple books.)
So I click – buy – get it.
Now it sits
in merry company  
of all the books I bought
so ******* conveniently
while I keep rereading the books
I’ve already read.  

Don’t get me started  
on my obsession with stationery.
Is there any feeling better
than writing on blank paper?
Seeing your busy thoughts
fall in neat lines,
march in formation,
until they reveal the idea underneath.
I keep browsing through the section
of notebooks, journals, diaries,
pencils, pens – oh, there are so many kinds!
I click – buy – get it.
A moment of ecstasy
when the I get the delivery
even though I mostly jot down
any sudden flash of inspiration  
on my phone because it’s always handy.

Getting bigger?  
Get larger jeans.
No need to stand trial  
before judgemental eyes
of the “helpful” salesperson.
Sidestep the self-esteem crisis,
just click – buy – get it.
Easy return policy;
quick refund if it does not fit.

Idly scrolling on social media
and I’m bombarded
with some choice targeted marketing.
How can I refuse
such a customised bait?
Hook, line, click on the link –
there – it’s not that expensive,
nothing too excessive.
I’ll buy that yellow dress,
those cute strappy sandals,
the quirky socks,
ooh a new mascara!
Wear the dress once and chuck it aside,
then go back to cycle the same five outfits.
Put on the mascara,
bat my eyes in jubilation,
then banish it to the drawer
because it gets on my contacts
and causes irritation.

I can go on and on and wax poetic
about the wonders of window-shopping
from the comfort of my couch.
I swear it’s such a great feeling
coming home to find my package waiting.

In life, I have come across people
who always felt like home to me.
It’s a wonderful feeling –
to have someone like that.
That is why it aches
to think of homes
I renounced
when I
left.

One of these days, happiness shall be mine.
The clouds will disperse, sunshine will come to stay.
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

Sometimes it is easy, it is hard sometimes.
If ever I start doubting myself, I simply say,
“One of these days, happiness shall be mine.”

Every once in a while, I can’t help but resign
myself to fate. Yet, I know I will be better the next day.
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

Every blow, every bruise I receive  is just a sign
that my struggle is worth it. I will find my way.
One of these days, happiness shall be mine

There is no way to decrypt destiny’s design;
To keep from drowning, to keep the fear at bay
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

What keeps me going is the belief that I will be fine.
When everything’s said and done, I will be okay.
One of these days, happiness shall be mine,
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

Twinkling mist rolling
through the valley of murmurs;
the howl of a hound.

I am
afraid.
I am afraid of all things.
Afraid all the time.

Afraid to close my eyes,
  I fear the nightmares that follow.
Afraid to wake up,
  I fear reality even more.
I’m scared to look people in the eye,
  Lest they learn the truth about me.
I’m scared to show them kindness,
  worried they might mistake it for weakness.
Although, what frightens me the most
is that my cowardice only grows
every day.

I fear the demons in my head.
Sceptical of the world in general,
I despair
at the emptiness of my soul.

But still I rally.
Still I push back.
Does it mean
I am
also a little brave?

Ideas once in
permeate your very being.
They won’t let you sleep;
will rob you of any peace.
Steadily they grow
like an intangible force.
They won’t let you be
unless you take action and
turn them to reality.

I
itch to
peek beyond
the thick curtain
of my depression;
check if I have
some part of
myself
left.

I don’t remember what it was that made me stop and think about the tendency of my thinking. But I remember how I felt when I had the epiphany that I had become, of all things, a hater. I realized, with a sinking feeling, that the things I hated far outnumbered the things I loved.  

Instead of saying that I loved the night, the moon and the stars, the placid silence, the comfort of solitude, and how some flowers smell better in the evening – I complained that I was not a morning person.  

I said I detested morning breath instead of saying that I loved running my tongue over my teeth after I had just brushed them. I moaned about hot weather more than the relief I found in the shade. So many pet peeves, so many inconsequential things marred my happiness.

I despised people who were quick to judge others. I was intolerant of intolerance. Unkind people irked me. I hated it when a friend came to me to speak ill of another friend. Why choose me? I did not want to be complicit in such duplicity. But I let it happen because I knew from experience that calling out problematic behaviour, especially with the people you know, serves no purpose other than souring your relationship. So, most of the times, I tried to simply extricate myself from the situation without engaging. But I fumed. I fumed about my powerlessness. And I hated the fact that despite loving them, I couldn’t like some people in my life.  

I used to joke about not knowing what I want in life but being sure about what I didn’t want. But I noticed too late that I kept adding to one list while ignoring the important one.

Now, I am trying to unlearn this rigid worldview as I grow. I am choosing gratitude for the good things in my life and not frustration at the things out of my control.

I have wanted you
for so long
and with such hunger
that now I think
I would rather not have you at all.
For once you’re mine
I will lose that sense of longing
and there will be nothing to
fill the agonizing empty spaces
that time inevitably blows in.

I know it is strange
and slightly moronic
but I just want to want you
for a little while longer.

Incomplete beauty –
a photograph of a wave –
shadow memory.

Intentions, aren’t they always good?
You tried to do the best you could.
Though finally it came to naught,
you never gave up, never stopped
saying it’s for the greater good.

Intentions, aren’t they always good?
Seldom taking the path they should.
Noble, with a worthy cause wrought,
intentions rust.

Intentions, quite misunderstood –
even the best ones never could
right any of the wrongs they bought.
The well-meaning battles you fought
hardly could have done any good.
Intentions rust.

It’s frightening how
a word from you
can lift me from
the depths of despondence.
Your absence,
even for the briefest time period,
can leave me agitated,
a quivering mass of nerves.
Occasionally,
for a mad moment,
I yearn to show you
how completely you own me.
It passes…
You can never know
of the incredible hold
you have over me.
I fear
all the violently wonderful
feelings I conceal
will one day
cause me to implode.
But then
you look at me
with such stillness,
I feel see-through.

Of course you know.

I
can see
you torment
yourself with doubts
about my feelings
even as your eyes hold
my dichroic heart captive.
Don’t you see? It’s not you, it’s me
who has more at stake for, unlike you,
I can’t reveal my insecurities.

Often I look back
and try to pinpoint the day,
the moment, I became
the type of person
who, when life is perfect,
waits with bated breath,
for the other shoe to drop.

Always, I hope
that bad times are not here to stay,
only to be disappointed
while bad slides to worse
with each passing day.

When did I become the fool
who believes that just because
night follows day,
and dawn lifts the shadows,
that when the going is good
something terrible is around the corner?

Has it ever been so
that life has served me
joy and grief in equal measure?

But still I wait
for the situation to change…
Unable to enjoy the good,
unfit to deal with the pain.
Stuck jumping through the hoops
of my hyperactive brain.

It registers as soon as I open the door,
a keen foreboding feeling.
An unfamiliarity never felt before
sends my senses reeling.

This is my home, my haven sweet;
yet today it does not belong to me.
I exhale and follow my tentative feet
while I repress the urge to flee.

I feign bravado by humming as I
go check every room casually.
I get more comfortable by and by –
the eeriness wanes thankfully.

Wake up in the morning, I listen to the news -
People keep fighting; they have conflicting views.
No need to fret, it’s just the world falling apart.
A brand new day though we're off to a shaky start.

The clock is ticking; there are things to be done.
No time to spare, there are battles to be won,
Dreams to be chased, still a life to be made,
Lots to prove, no room for distractions in my head.

"Try hard enough, bleed out your heart 'n' soul,"
That’s what they say, the ones who know it all,
"Then maybe, maybe, you'll get what you want."
I try to believe it's that simple but no, I can’t.

Philosophy and reality are too contradictory;
Does it count as a win if it is a Pyrrhic victory*?
Traded friends for wolves in sheep's skin, I did.
Beliefs, principles, I've let them all go bit by bit.

Can't overthink, need no distractions in my head;
There are dreams to be chased, a future to be made.
Can't lament the life not lived, the road not taken,
Those sunsets I missed and my love forsaken.

Feed me a story –
I feel hollow
listening to the wind
work itself to a storm.

While we wait for the rain,
spin me one of your tales;
something wholesome,
with sweetness that will linger.

Soothing clichés
to slake my restive mind.
Although your voice is solace enough.

I have so much to say to you
but I haven’t yet 
mastered the skill
to undress my convoluted thoughts
to their bare essence.

So tonight,
under the swollen sky,
talk to me
about anything,
and everything –
keep me company.

Certain sounds used to bother me.

Human noises like people breathing drove me crazy – it didn’t have to be a wheeze, a rasp or a rattle. It remained a battle to ignore the everyday sound of normal breathing, indecipherable, barely a decibel.

Another peeve, of course, was people eating, the cacophony of masticating – I flinched as I heard them chomp, crunch, chew, and munch. I recoiled in distaste as they audibly swallowed their lunch.

I didn’t understand why I found the innocent sound of a faucet dripping so irritating. I felt like a monster because I couldn’t control the flash of anger when I heard someone drumming their fingers, tapping their feet.

One word saved me from the lunacy of self-loathing – misophonia – a name for my malady.

I don’t know what it is about labels that turns your torments into traits. Labels are the leash you use to control your troubles. Ever since I discovered I am misophonic, mundane sounds, while still annoying, no longer overwhelm me.

There is a certain thrill when you are
teetering on the very brink.
An intense, almost perverse
curiosity to
see whether you will
continue to
stand tall or
will you
fall.

I love you;
I love you deeply, madly.
I love you violently,
I love you respectfully.
I love your nose, your hair,
I love every square inch of air
That touches you.
I love you in every way possible
And I love you in impossible ways.
I love you darkly,
Calmly, cruelly, selfishly;
I love the stormy passion you inspire;
Sweet stark desire,
I love you unbearably, heartbreakingly,
I love you tenderly,
In sadness and in joy
I love you now and forever.
I love you
Even if I’ll never have you.
And if truth be told
Because I love you so,
Now I love my black heart too.

Sometimes I wish
we lived in a different century,
a different era,
so when you had to go away
I could write you letters.

Letters,
a whole stack,
with penmanship so quaint
and words so fancy,
you would not be able to stop
marvelling at their beauty.
(I imagine)
You would spend hours on end
unravelling the secret longing
behind every blithe sentence,
every playful word.

And while absent-mindedly stroking
the dried ink on the parchment
as if it were my skin,
you would miss me so infinitely much
that without wasting another second,
you would hurry back home
to me.

If I open my eyes, I will be awake.
I am awake; I don’t want to open my eyes.
Even though dawdling in bed is unwise
it is a bad habit I have yet to break.
If I were a morning person, I would shake
off sleep’s sluggish cloak and arise
fresh as a daisy; my arms open to the skies
and greet sunrise without the bellyache.

It only takes a favorite song
Come up on the jukebox
To fish her out of her despair
They call her Lola, Lola Fawkes.

She laughs at nonsensical jokes,
Likes clouds and sunny glades.
She licks the ice cream tub clean
And paints her toes in two shades.

She speaks of butterflies and shadows;
Says she sees them all the time.
The butterflies tinge her dreams,
The shadows add a smell of grime.

She lives and dies with every moment -
Does it all over again each day.
In her heart she truly believes
That salvation is always a blink away.

Some days, I recede
too far back into my mind.
Thoughts are like a maze –
it’s so easy to get lost,
the way back is hard to find.

There
she goes
once again
ignoring life
as she falls in love with another song.

This fleeting love affair however brief,
is the only
time she feels
truly
free.

The hazy world sharpened
when myopic Maddie
got a new pair of glasses
sitting pretty on her pert nose.

Now she could discern
each leaf in a foliage,
and tell people apart
from a  respectable distance.

She peered at every face,
thrilled that now she could
describe the smallest details
in case she were ever called in
to sit for a police sketch.

Smug glee turned to horror
when her wondering gaze
met quizzical stares
and she recalled
that her glasses
were transparent.

Have faith; You must believe
what you are picks its way.
Through each setback you receive,
have faith. You must believe
there is nothing you can’t achieve.
Remember this if you begin to sway,
“Have faith – you must believe
what you are picks its way.”