They said I blew
it out of proportion.
I was told to let it go
so I did the mature thing
and looped an uptight string  
around its neck, strangled
it in a vexed snaggle,
before setting it free
to float. I let it go;
(though, not really).

Good advice must be broken
into bite sized pieces
so as to avoid choking
on its well-meaning intent.

Now,
I carry it with me every day
but it is a weight off my shoulders.
They say it suits me.
I agree.
What a facetious accessory it is –  
maturity!

It’s day seven of NaPoWriMo;
I have to write a fresh poem.
But it is also Monday
and I have no topic,
no inspiration.
So this feeble
nonet will
have to
do.

Does this ever happen to you?
You get into a messy, ugly fight,
but you lose steam about half way through
when you realize you’re the one who’s wrong.
Now, you want to stop arguing; you really do.
But for some idiotic ineffable reason
your mouth won’t do what your brain tells it to.
So you keep spouting nonsense with all your might
and continue to quarrel without a clue.

I was a little older than six
when you came to us,
ruddy cheeked
with a shock of curly hair,
tiny fingers that wrapped
around my pinkie
and squeezed
happiness into my heart.

You were (and still are)
the epicenter
of the world forever changed.

To be honest,
my childhood began with you.
I don’t have any memories
of being anyone
before I was your sister.

I know you will say
that’s just because I’m dumb.
That’s not the case, idiot.
Mom always tells me
that I was a lonely child,
neither sad nor shy,
just content playing by myself.
I choose to think
I was waiting… for you
to join the fun.

And what fun we’ve had!
Making up dance routines
to our favorite songs;
Smuggling snacks to bed;
Adding new levels
to invented games.
Remember “Sleep, Sleep”?
Competing to see who
could pretend to sleep
without moving the longest –  
I’m sorry I tricked you, boo.
I knew you would drift off
and I’d be able to read in peace.
You caught on soon though
and I had to think of other ways
to keep you still.

So I began reading to you
from books I loved,
stories and poems,
of adventures so epic
they called the magic to the skin  
and you listened,
tickled pink.

You listened, enthralled,  
to the gibber jabber
I came up with on the spot,
often asking for more.
To this day, you listen
and pay heed
to every word,
every notion
like it is really worthy
of your attention.

There’s something special
and ethereal
about neon nights like this
that makes the world seem new.
I’ve known you so long.
Definitely not the first time
I’ve heard this song.
And I think
I’m in love.
To be honest, I can’t tell
if I’ve fallen for the song or you.
What difference does it make anyway?
For now, the universe aligns perfectly;
Life almost makes sense.
So as long the music keeps playing,
I suggest we keep moving
together. As one.
And when the song ends,
after the last note,
if I still crumble at your touch,
we’ll just get ‘em to play it all over again.

Open your eyes. Wake up, wake up.
This is just a dream, it’s not real…
Keep your head down, don't dare look up.
It won’t see you if you keep still.

Swallow your dread, push down the fear.
Open your eyes. Wake up, wake up!
Clench your fists, suppress the shiver;
one wrong move and the game is up.

Don't scream when the monster eye up
above you sets the sky ablaze.
Open your eyes. Wake up, wake up!
It is shifting its evil gaze.

(Gasp) You have been spotted. Oh, no!
Legs stuck like a fly in syrup,
you can't flee; there’s nowhere to go.
Open your eyes, WAKE UP! WAKE UP!

Remember…

When we had too much time on our hands
yet never ran out of things to say.
When we thought we knew everything,
when every path was the right way.

Silences used to be complete;
silver nights after a sparkling day.
Something about the days gone by
makes us want to rewind them and replay.

But maybe it is not that simple.
Maybe we are looking back the wrong way.
Maybe it seems easier because we fought
and lived to fight another day.

We can take a stroll down memory lane
but it’s not a worthy place for us to stay.
For nostalgia is a sepia toned b*h
who distracts you as today slips away.

I wish you would come
to see me. Only, I am
glad that you haven’t.
I have some healing to do.
I have some blooming to do.

You know the feeling
when it is pouring outside
and you are home,
tucked in,
warm and cozy.

You lie in bed,
awake,
listening to the rain
drown everything
in white noise.

You feel the fog lift
from your mind.
Ideas take shape,
building,
till the air is alive
with possibilities.

Yeah…
when that happens,
take my advice –
write it down.
All of it.

Because
if you don’t,
the next day you won’t
remember
any of last night’s
“brilliant” notions.

Oh Lucy, dear Lucy —
Is it true, are you blue?

Oh Lucy, poor Lucy —
How can we help you?

Oh Lucy, sweet Lucy —
What on earth makes you cry?

Oh Lucy, come on, Lucy —
Can't you please tell us why?

Oh Lucy, silly Lucy —
That's not reason enough.

Oh Lucy, buck up, Lucy —
You've got to be more tough.

Oh Lucy, goodness Lucy —
You can't always be sad.

Oh Lucy, smile Lucy —
It is really not that bad.

Oh Lucy, pretty Lucy —
Now that's the way to be.

Oh Lucy, good girl, Lucy —
See? Just choose to be happy.

Oh Lucy, fickle Lucy —
You were fine just yesterday.

Oh Lucy, sullen Lucy —
what's your problem anyway?

Oh Lucy, ugh Lucy —
Are you still on about that?

Oh Lucy, shut up, Lucy —
You ungrateful little brat.

Oh Lucy, quiet Lucy —
Have you nothing else to say?

Oh Lucy, lovely Lucy —
Where have you gone away?

Oh Lucy... where's Lucy?
No! Say it isn't true!

If only you knew, oh Lucy,
how much we loved you.

I know
I’m in love
when once again
the colors start to sing
for me.

You pull the fondest smiles out of me
    And make me want to squee internally.

Without effort, you dispel the gloomy days;
    You set me straight from my maudlin ways.

My heart’s desire, star of my dreams,
    I can’t get you out of my mind, it seems.

Truly, I don’t have the faintest clue
    How am I ever going to survive you?

Feelings,
those insidious little things.
They ******, make you squirm,
sneak in unawares,
make nebulous all that is firm.

Feelings,
those traitorous little things.
They lift you up, make you float
then change without a warning
and sink the **** boat.

Feelings,
those warm little darlings.
With you through harmony or strife,
your companions, they let you
revel in the drama called life.

It has a slow beginning,
This new book I am reading
Though it’s not a riveting tale
I follow its dry, meandering trail
Boom! A twist in the plot. Gasp! No!
What happens next? I need to know…

I snap to attention, sit up straight
as I worry about our hero’s fate.
Will he prove his innocence to all?
Or will he give up and take the fall?
I turn the page and readjust my pillow.
What happens next? I need to know…

Another twist hits me out of the blue,
Our hero’s not the man I thought I knew!
His dark secret has finally been revealed.
Will he pay for his sins? Will he yield?
I’m down to the last fifty pages or so.
What happens next? I need to know!

I attempted to
ensnare my darkest desires
with the help of dreamcatchers.

Filter out all those
recycled thoughts to unveil
a pipe dream that is just mine.

Fresh dough, sauce, and melted cheese,
plus wholesome veggies,
add tender succulent meat,
baked to perfection.
Breathe it in before
you dig in.
Drool!

It was a lonely night
and the moon was bored.
So he looked down
and saw two lovers
out for a night time stroll.

Ever the romantic, he grew ecstatic
because tonight he would make sure
they would fall in love a little more
by the time the night was over.

He bent his sickle-head and started to collect
his starry friends so he could rearrange them
in a more alluring manner.
In his haste to showcase his talent however,
he failed to notice the disappointed couple
turn their backs on the empty sky.

When he realized he had lost his audience,
the moon was left to contemplate in silence
the folly of the stargazers’ impatience.

If only they had waited,
he thought resentfully
as he scattered the stars
into the night absent-mindedly.

I love to watch the rain
Rain with a flash of lightning
Lightning with a dash of thunder
Thunder makes me wonder
Wonder at the wayward wind
The wayward wind sets the rhythm
The rhythm sways the world
The world is in chaos
Chaos is peaceful
Peaceful is the moment
The moment when I am at home
At home watching the rain.

This is a poem
only because
you deem it worthy.  

Without your gaze,
amenable and open,
it is a line broken
in erratic fashion –
a skeleton
awkward, unbecoming.

You take my common words
upon your clement tongue
curiously tasting every emotion
compassionate, kind,
with your all-consuming spirit.

You magnolious stranger
with the soul of a friend,
we may never know
each other’s life or pain;
unable to console
or hug
or even wave hello.
But you paint my sparse canvas
with so many inimitable layers,
your perspective,  
your experience,
your empathy,
and the brightest color –
imagination.

This is a poem
only because
you see it as one.

i only wanted to be quiet for a bit
   my words had become empty of meaning
  by embracing silence i thought i could
   try to get in touch with what i was feeling

  why the emptiness grew deeper roots
   i never really understood the reason
  my heart fell still, my blood ran cold
   i felt more lost with each passing season

It is remarkably difficult to find
that moment in the middle of a day
when nothing is on your mind,
all the chaos just fades away,
and somehow you know that you will be okay.

Chocolate on chocolate,
the faintest tang of
apricot jam with a side
of whipped cream. Oh, yes!
Decadent, scrumptious
sachertorte.
Sigh!

Once upon a time,
my skin was skin,
splendid,
as long as I kept it clean.

Now I’m told
by the TV, internet, and magazines,
my skin
needs plumping,
brightening,
smoothing,
anti-wrinkle cream.

The mirror
used to show my reflection –
it served a purpose
like a toothbrush
used to maintain oral hygiene.

Now a mirror reflects
not just my visage
but judgement;
flaws
that need fixing.

Now I’m the clingy lover,
insecure, as I hover
two inches from the glass surface
that is less fragile
than my self-esteem sometimes.

I have learned the importance
of self-care in my darkest moments.

I have learned not to chide myself
for the past I have left behind.
I have taught myself not to belittle
the seemingly insignificant ways
I take care of myself every day.

My body that continues
working, every cog turning,
no matter how I am feeling
fills me with wonder.

My mind, a juggernaut,
surprises me every time
with its resilience.

So I do all I can
to make myself feel better.
I try to take care of things now
so I am not overwhelmed later.

I need to dance with you and listen to you sing. I need to look at you, and  catch your eye at the exact moment you turn your head and smile at me. You have shown me that magic exists; kindness is not a myth. You, I need to do so many things with you. I need to follow your fingers as they move rhythmically to the tune of the universe. I need to breathe in your effulgent happiness. I need to touch and feel your scalding soul. The sadness that grips you and the darkness that stains your eyes, I need to partake in its lilting stillness. And as you float and stumble, crash and burn through life, I need to be there, pulsing, writhing, drowning in the abyss of wanting you.

If you let me sleep
I will not ask to be free.
I will don the chains
you insist are not a leash.
Allow me to drop
deeply, slowly, in rapture
without the plummeting end.

If the long tunnel
must bait me with the promise
of light ahead while
its long shadow weighs me down
I need to lie here
and rest before I accept
the white untrue hope.
If tomorrow must arrive
and I have to greet
the blue rascal with a smile
let me say goodbye for now.

Close your eyes, sweetheart, wish all your wishes
as your mother sings you this lullaby.

Wrapped in a flurry of goodnight kisses,
soar high on the wings of a firefly.

Shatter the moon in a thousand pieces;
sprinkle some bright stars across the night sky.

Sleep now, my love, dream your troubles away -
You have more dragons tomorrow to slay.

My thoughts get polluted in the short span
of time it takes them to run to my tongue.
Intent evaporates, I find myself
spewing banality with confidence.
Dubious sense of humour fails to land
a punch; I dodder past with a faux grin.
Finally it’s time to pass the baton
to another unwilling candidate.
I nod pleasantly as we continue
our dull charade of camaraderie.

Once upon a time being sociable
meant exchanging infrequent messages.
The small talk prattles on… I think about
the lost luxury of writing letters.

Sometimes I have something to say.
Sometimes I want to say nothing
about what I really feel –
I bury it within layers.

It is easy to write because
sometimes I have something to say.
Every word sprouts out eagerly,
a bamboo grove by morning light.

I begin my expedition
without a set destination.
Sometimes I have something to say;
I end up saying something else.

I’ve built a wall of reticence;
poems are the open window.
Reluctant as I am to talk,
sometimes I have something to say.