#desi - Hello Poetry

I am unaware if you love me or not, but I visualize us in various ways. What if, centuries ago, we were two swans floating amongst water lilies, or what if we were two leaves of the same tree, falling to our death? What if you were the dark skinned Krishna with a flute, and I was the one destined to be forever yours? If you are indeed the shore to my billowing tides, my beloved, let me seek refuge in your arms.

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Mar 21

Mar 21, 2026 at 3:10 PM UTC

Krish_E_S

Seek Refuge

I am unaware if you love me or not, but I visualize us in various ways. What if, centuries ago, we were two swans floating amongst water lilies, or what if we were two leaves of the same tree, falling to our death? What if you were the dark skinned Krishna with a flute, and I was the one destined to be forever yours? If you are indeed the shore to my billowing tides, my beloved, let me seek refuge in your arms.

10

i am not easy to love i whisper it into the breath i blow across the cup filled with steaming tea i am not easy to love i trace the words into the stone at my finger tips as i gaze at the water rushing over the edge of the cliff i am not easy to love my mind chants as i open my palm to catch the fallen dice all this time later, a decade and a half, it was time to write the truth in stone for us both “i am not easy to love”

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Aug 7, 2022

Aug 7, 2022 at 11:57 PM UTC

gbye

stone script

i am not easy to love i whisper it into the breath i blow across the cup filled with steaming tea i am not easy to love i trace the words into the stone at my finger tips as i gaze at the water rushing over the edge of the cliff i am not easy to love my mind chants as i open my palm to catch the fallen dice all this time later, a decade and a half, it was time to write the truth in stone for us both “i am not easy to love”

8

There are aunties all around us, appreciating their daughters, "Meri beti khana bohat acha banati hai" "Meri beti ne tou pura ghar sambhala hai" And then comes me.....who has a lazy **** to even make morning chair;(

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Jun 1, 2020

Jun 1, 2020 at 12:12 AM UTC

dreamer-2

Untitled

There are aunties all around us, appreciating their daughters, "Meri beti khana bohat acha banati hai" "Meri beti ne tou pura ghar sambhala hai" And then comes me.....who has a lazy **** to even make morning chair;(

4

I am a small and expressive six-year-old I just came back from India, just a trip to visit family I wear a bindi My hands are decorated with mehndhi*¹ I wear bangles on my arm of all different colors I wore a little churi daar*² And everyone teased me “She has a disease?” “Why is there a dot on your forehead?” “You look funny” A few of my friends tell me that I look pretty and they wish to wear it too. I get a few compliments but the rest hurt I never wore a bindi in front of them again I washed my hands to rid the orange stains I never wear my Indian clothes I am a not so small and not expressive sixteen-year-old I see music festivals, I see movies, I see the people who teased me when I was six They wear the dots that I had worn They decorate their hands with what they call “henna” It wasn’t an Indian holiday I’m a little hurt Why was I teased? But they are praised “It’s aesthetically pleasing?” “The bindi is indie” Do not tease me for my culture And then take it for your own praise Is that even fair? Do you think that’s fair?

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Apr 20, 2019

Apr 20, 2019 at 11:47 AM UTC

vern

i am a six year old

I am a small and expressive six-year-old I just came back from India, just a trip to visit family I wear a bindi My hands are decorated with mehndhi*¹ I wear bangles on my arm of all different colors I wore a little churi daar*² And everyone teased me “She has a disease?” “Why is there a dot on your forehead?” “You look funny” A few of my friends tell me that I look pretty and they wish to wear it too. I get a few compliments but the rest hurt I never wore a bindi in front of them again I washed my hands to rid the orange stains I never wear my Indian clothes I am a not so small and not expressive sixteen-year-old I see music festivals, I see movies, I see the people who teased me when I was six They wear the dots that I had worn They decorate their hands with what they call “henna” It wasn’t an Indian holiday I’m a little hurt Why was I teased? But they are praised “It’s aesthetically pleasing?” “The bindi is indie” Do not tease me for my culture And then take it for your own praise Is that even fair? Do you think that’s fair?

29

I still think of the burning black eyes of thee, Shreeta; the most beautiful desi girl thin as a sun ray; smart as my vintage Encyclopedia Britannica; sweet as heavenly honey, never stinging me; bee rubbing thin hairy arms together into my memory; Shreeta the only devi descended in sandals holding a single candle lighting every star in the wide, wide sky; whose sharp-cheeks & caramel features art an epiphany & the definition of every order of love from blissful Nirvana to the realm of demons where thou's bare feet truck through snowy mountains where the albino Yeti falls in love w/ thee; so perfect as the earth itself personified; sit to **** in ur condo's luxury super-toilet; there is always & only thee, Streeta & my love will always be overflowing upon thee & I will drink ur crystal clear ***** like sweet, sacred strawberry scented ambrosia

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Jan 25, 2018

Jan 25, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC

johnny-noiπ

Shreeta

I still think of the burning black eyes of thee, Shreeta; the most beautiful desi girl thin as a sun ray; smart as my vintage Encyclopedia Britannica; sweet as heavenly honey, never stinging me; bee rubbing thin hairy arms together into my memory; Shreeta the only devi descended in sandals holding a single candle lighting every star in the wide, wide sky; whose sharp-cheeks & caramel features art an epiphany & the definition of every order of love from blissful Nirvana to the realm of demons where thou's bare feet truck through snowy mountains where the albino Yeti falls in love w/ thee; so perfect as the earth itself personified; sit to **** in ur condo's luxury super-toilet; there is always & only thee, Streeta & my love will always be overflowing upon thee & I will drink ur crystal clear ***** like sweet, sacred strawberry scented ambrosia

18

When I was thirteen my mother Took a rose and crushed it Letting the thorns ***** into her sides Pinpoints of blood blushing on her arm “This is what a man does to a woman, What he takes and what cannot be Restored, this what you must endure This is what your family must endure Because you are a woman.” So is it any wonder that when you Pushed yourself inside without asking I did not stop you, that I only closed My eyes and saw the image of that Crushed red rose lying limp Between my mother’s feet

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Jul 4, 2017

Jul 4, 2017 at 3:37 PM UTC

nuha-fariha

Roses are Red

When I was thirteen my mother Took a rose and crushed it Letting the thorns ***** into her sides Pinpoints of blood blushing on her arm “This is what a man does to a woman, What he takes and what cannot be Restored, this what you must endure This is what your family must endure Because you are a woman.” So is it any wonder that when you Pushed yourself inside without asking I did not stop you, that I only closed My eyes and saw the image of that Crushed red rose lying limp Between my mother’s feet

15