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 Sep 2016 Prathipa Nair
Stephan
.

When sleepless evenings

endlessly gather in lonely hours
keeping you from your dreams

I feel bad because I love you,

but wonder if this is the reason
that every night

you are in mine
Compact Poem Series
 Sep 2016 Prathipa Nair
Illya Oz
Why does your nose 'run' and your feet 'smell'?
Why do we call a building, a 'building' if it's already been built?
Why is it called a TV 'set' when you only get one?
And why does an alarm clock 'go off' when it starts ringing?

Why is it called a 'near miss' when you don't hit something?
Why does 'cleave' mean both to split apart and to stick together?
Why call it 'taking' a dump, when you leave something behind?
And if a 'vegetable' goes into a coma, is it called a person?
English is weird :)
 Sep 2016 Prathipa Nair
Illya Oz
The red balloon flies up
into the endless blue sky
Out of reach of the little boys
small frail hands
He cries for the loss
of his precious friend
His mother sighs
and tells her son
'You should have held on tighter'
When I was little my dad use to read me this story called 'The Red Balloon' about a boy called Pascal who found a magic balloon that became his friend and followed him around. In the book it was like everyone was trying to take the balloon away from him and in the end the balloon was popped by some bullies when it was trying to protect Pascal, which always made me sad, but then lots of balloons came and carried Pascal off into the sky. I still really love that book, though I think it may have been a movie first.
Somewhere in a strange land
An unknown heart throbs for me
      Etching an amorous graffiti
On the blank walls of my mind
Where ever I am, I feel a pair of eyes
Fondly surveying and scanning me,
Speaking to me in silence
And keeps me awake in the night
I feel it all, I hear it all
Filling me with a sweet ache!

When night birds croon in the woods
And their mates answer the serenade,
When the moon begins her somnambulistic walk
And light beams percolate through pine needles,
When a hundred eyes open in the blue heights
To watch over the sleeping Earth,
When the whistle of a train is heard far away
And its music wanes into a monotonous drone,
When the rooster makes his first clarion call
Breaking the serene silence of the night,
When glow worms float in darkness
Like cruise ships over the sea,
When night gales shake the slender coniferous trees
And wind whistles among their leaves,
When sailing clouds blind the stars
And the night turns into an ebony shade,
When the opening Jasmine secretly exults
In her own exotic scent,

Sitting in my dimly lighted room
      I draft this message of love
      Pouring all my warmth into it
      Thus emptying my love laden heart
That blazes with the fire of love
And encode it in cryptic script
      To be mailed to you, my love!

Oh, it might take much time
Better it be a whispered endearment
Sent through this perfumed night breeze
That shall carry it from this end to that end

So kindly leave
your window open!
Do you remember
The fairy tales we spun
On those blazing summer noons
When the road tar was melting
And we bunked classes
To be under the forest flame
Shadowed from the world outside
When we thought time would be immortal
As you wiped the sweats from my forehead
And with every thread of yarn
I would grip you harder
In an effort to prevent gravity
From letting those moments fall
Into the abyss of memories.

Do your eyes still see the Prince
That never took you away
When you tell your grandkids
The fairy tales?
March 31, 2016
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