Members
Poems
Emanuel Ström Jul 2018
43
Emanuel Ström
Jul 2018
What did he just say? No, that can’t be right. One missing? But we are all here. Right?
Forty one, forty two, forty three… One is missing…
He is right… This was supposed to be a joyous day. The last test of the year. But here they stand. The teacher's, the curator, the principal and a priest… This priest. Like an omen he stood there, an augur, telling of grief to come.
Forty one, forty two, forty three… One is missing…
Slowly the news start to sink in… One is missing… And then it hits… The room falls silent. Just one moment ago everyone was sprouting with anticipation. Now we are frozen.
Forty one, forty two, forty three… One is missing…
It’s him. He is missing. No. Impossible, he can’t be gone. We still need him here. That's right, you are important right here right now, without you we are not whole.
... forty one, forty two, forty three… You are missing…
When I first came here I lived in a bubble, had no friends and no interest in making them. You saw me. You bursted my bubble. You saved me.
I did not see you. I saw the signs, I did not act on them. The jokes… They were only jokes, but jokes are a dangerous thing for there are always some truth behind them.
... forty one, forty two, forty three… You are missing…
The most heartbreaking sound in the world is the crack in a person's voice right as they are about to cry. Today I heard that sound. Our teacher. She who always held us to high standards and she whom helped us reach those standards. She spoke to me and her voice cracked.
... forty one, forty two forty three… You are missing…
Taking one's life. I never understood the term. Taking? Someone who commits suicide clearly does not want it anymore, so why the word take?
Today I understood the meaning. The sound made me understand. When you take your life, you do not take it from yourself. You take it from us. Your friends and family. The ones who are left. You take it away from them.
A scar never to fully heal. An empty space, never to be filled.
... forty one, forty two forty three… You are missing…
Good night sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Forty one, forty two, forty three… One is missing…
He is right… This was supposed to be a joyous day. The last test of the year. But here they stand. The teacher's, the curator, the principal and a priest… This priest. Like an omen he stood there, an augur, telling of grief to come.
Forty one, forty two, forty three… One is missing…
Slowly the news start to sink in… One is missing… And then it hits… The room falls silent. Just one moment ago everyone was sprouting with anticipation. Now we are frozen.
Forty one, forty two, forty three… One is missing…
It’s him. He is missing. No. Impossible, he can’t be gone. We still need him here. That's right, you are important right here right now, without you we are not whole.
... forty one, forty two, forty three… You are missing…
When I first came here I lived in a bubble, had no friends and no interest in making them. You saw me. You bursted my bubble. You saved me.
I did not see you. I saw the signs, I did not act on them. The jokes… They were only jokes, but jokes are a dangerous thing for there are always some truth behind them.
... forty one, forty two, forty three… You are missing…
The most heartbreaking sound in the world is the crack in a person's voice right as they are about to cry. Today I heard that sound. Our teacher. She who always held us to high standards and she whom helped us reach those standards. She spoke to me and her voice cracked.
... forty one, forty two forty three… You are missing…
Taking one's life. I never understood the term. Taking? Someone who commits suicide clearly does not want it anymore, so why the word take?
Today I understood the meaning. The sound made me understand. When you take your life, you do not take it from yourself. You take it from us. Your friends and family. The ones who are left. You take it away from them.
A scar never to fully heal. An empty space, never to be filled.
... forty one, forty two forty three… You are missing…
Good night sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
This one goes out to my good friend who left us too early. Good night sweet prince, and flights of Angels sing tee to thy rest.
Ashwin Kumar May 2020
Forty five dark days
Ashwin Kumar
May 2020
Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
With every passing hour
I go from depressed to hopeful
From hopeful to furious
And back to depressed
The vicious circle goes on and on
With no end in sight
Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
As the first lockdown is extended
The sense of despair grows stronger
My temper grows shorter
My insecurities, buried till then
In the dark recesses of my mind
Suddenly rise like a tsunami
And flood my brain and heart
Leaving a massive trail of dead cells in their wake
Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
As the second lockdown is extended
I become increasingly on edge
Every little frustration comes to the fore
Whether it be the delayed salaries
Or being cooped up in a small house
With five family members
And thus having to endure the sheer cacophony
Of the Mahabharat and Ramayan
Blaring on the TV every day
Or simply the torrid climate of Chennai
Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
How long will this go on?
I have been patient till now
But at some stage, I am bound to snap
And then you will find
That when the going gets tough
The tough get going
However, I get dangerous
So, think carefully, dear Prime Minister
Before you announce another nationwide lockdown
Unless you want to land yourself in quarantine
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
With every passing hour
I go from depressed to hopeful
From hopeful to furious
And back to depressed
The vicious circle goes on and on
With no end in sight
Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
As the first lockdown is extended
The sense of despair grows stronger
My temper grows shorter
My insecurities, buried till then
In the dark recesses of my mind
Suddenly rise like a tsunami
And flood my brain and heart
Leaving a massive trail of dead cells in their wake
Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
As the second lockdown is extended
I become increasingly on edge
Every little frustration comes to the fore
Whether it be the delayed salaries
Or being cooped up in a small house
With five family members
And thus having to endure the sheer cacophony
Of the Mahabharat and Ramayan
Blaring on the TV every day
Or simply the torrid climate of Chennai
Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
How long will this go on?
I have been patient till now
But at some stage, I am bound to snap
And then you will find
That when the going gets tough
The tough get going
However, I get dangerous
So, think carefully, dear Prime Minister
Before you announce another nationwide lockdown
Unless you want to land yourself in quarantine
My 3rd lockdown poem!!