#glopowrimo
Where am I?
For those who ask:
I am in the home I grew up in
Between the intersection and the train tracks
(Did you know, when I was little and up too late
I heard the whistle of the train
And I thought it was the trumpeting of angels
Come to take me in the night.)
And where am I, Lord?
Where will this be
In history’s books?
Just down the street from a post office
Built during the civil war for shipping shoes
Still open—an essential service
In a time of worry, as it was in the time of war
(There have been sixteen cases in my town
And it has not yet touched me.)
And oh, where am I, my love?
I am with my family
Keeping my hands busy
So my mind stays still
I am in bed, or on the floor,
Or in the living room, or on the porch,
Or putting grooves in the driveway
As I stop to smell the flowers
that have bloomed the same this year
as they have on every other
except this year I have someone to compare them to and
not a blossom measures up to you, my love.
Where am I?
Home
Safe—as safe as one can be
In a familiar place
All of these are true
(But the first answer that comes to my mind
Is always “still miles away from you”)
Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 5:19 PM UTC
Blue bird,
every time I set you free
unfailingly, you fly back to me.
Perched out of reach
never out of mind
evermore locked in my gravity.
I know, blue bird,
the quandary of a heart
so willingly ensnared.
I remember the soothing drum
of its unquiet content.
I have longed for the keen
euphoric sting you bring
even as I banished you.
Without you
I am an empty nest.
I am so… heavy
with you.
Only I can let you go.
Only you can return to me.
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 10:05 AM UTC
A Monginis Cake Shop flex hangs
above a hardware and electronics store
and a man in front of it
speaks loudly into his phone,
trying to explain this his location,
slapping the other hand on his forehead.
Another man, this one on a scooter
going slower than a public transport bus
has his helmet resting in the front
between his feet
instead of on his head.
(Is this blatant disregard for life
or staggering confidence about it?)
An old Nauvari-clad woman
bearing a big vermillion stain on her forehead
innocently spits her paan on a
Clean Mumbai, Green Mumbai graffiti.
I get up to go stand
at the front door
and someone else takes my seat.
They will see a skinny girl
typing furiously into her phone
this very poem.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC
side hugs are like
performative wokeness;
shallow, flaky, meaningless
convenient, censored -
appealing, yes?
appeasing, too, i guess.
but no
i demand the real deal
furnish me with both arms
disregard my weak frame,
i promise, i wont break
let me have it
im not a snowflake
just a girl who
likes to take
on the world
with hugs
as her weapon of choice.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 1:52 AM UTC
Some summers,
My poem is a makeshift home,
It’s cheap tarpaulin hanging by two sticks,
You won’t notice it,
It’s barely even seen,
Let alone stand out,
There are no commuters,
No visitors,
My poem is a makeshift home,
It has unfamiliar cookware resting on its jagged platform,
Sometimes the plastic leaks of sunlight,
And I drown in its shallow puddles,
It’s mostly worn out letters with fatigued arms,
Wrongly fit pieces of a puzzle,
Some summers,
My poem is a makeshift home,
Shabby,
Severed,
Passable,
Home.
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 3:29 PM UTC
is full of nonsense:
summing up my parts,
contradiction is the quotient
and the remainder is a hole
I fail to fill
my thoughts don’t add up;
questions make fractions
that multiply themselves
of their own will
regret is the exponent
when decision is the base
and even the best results
are some digits out of place
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 7:38 PM UTC
Incomplete beauty –
a photograph of a wave –
shadow memory.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 10:39 AM UTC
Softly, the music makes me weep, and I
sink into the storm. You are breathtaking.
My life before you was a dream, a lie.
I am awake now, love, trembling, shaking.
You have ripped my feeble façade away
and doused me in ultraviolet bliss.
You, you are the sky. I am a blue jay
forever reaching, begging for a kiss.
I smolder under your luminous gaze;
I grow heavy, molten under your touch.
Slowly, I open, close, my blood ablaze,
Undulating in your leisurely clutch.
I rise, yield, my heart beating like a drum.
I float, complete, my breath a steady thrum.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 6:57 AM UTC
Your pain is not a gift.
Don’t be burdened
if they don’t rejoice to receive it.
Don’t
let the lack of a correct response
ebb your purge.
They don’t understand.
Of course, they don’t.
They are not you;
They have not suffered
your black holes.
Do you wish them to?
Don’t
brush away their sympathy.
It is the price you pay
to have someone
care enough to listen.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 3:07 AM UTC
Here I sit, collecting sunsets
while you are away from me.
I dissolve my silly regrets
in steaming mugs of tea.
I’d miss you more, I think
if it weren’t for the playful sea.
The waves tease me with a wink –
I’m easily distracted, you see.
The weather has been great,
these days I’m almost happy.
So I enjoy myself while I wait
for you to come back to me.
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC
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.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
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.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
Some girl I never knew
knew an art that wasn’t kung fu.
She did not whistle well
when her peaches didn’t sell.
And a boy I never liked
loved her not at first sight.
He kissed her on a day it didn’t rain
never to lay eyes on her again.
Nary a soul whispers her name,
nary a heart feels any shame.
She was pretty not so long ago,
this girl I will never know.
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 9:59 AM UTC
Yes, hello, how are you? How have you been? I want to tell you about a lot of things. Like the pigeon I spoke to the other day. It listened. It stayed as if it understood how much I needed to vent.
There was also a story I read. I knew it how it was going to end. You often do with tragic endings. Nevertheless, I persisted. I read all the words and wept just like the writer wanted me to. It was an adequate excuse to mope for a bit.
I discovered I can no longer bend enough to touch my toes. I wonder when that happened. An afternoon spent reaching for my feet left me with a pulled hamstring, a sweaty nose, and a shallow sense of shame. But I am not too concerned.
What else? See, I keep forgetting the stories, the baubles, I saved for you.
Oh, yes! I found a secluded pathway when I got lost during an evening stroll. I was too keen to find my way bay back to heed the bluebells that beckoned me like will-o’-the-wisps. But I went back the next day and followed the narrow tracks till it emerged to a low ridge overlooking the city. There was a well-worn tree stump that made me think that maybe this was someone’s hideout.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter;
They still find me in my dreams on lonesome nights.
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.
Once, a daft heart soared to discover someone dafter;
Oddballs together, we tasted the world’s wacky delights.
Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter.
Jokes so silly, never unkind, banter flew by faster.
The crazy faces we so carelessly wore highlights
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.
Subtle changes sometimes hurt more than sudden disaster.
One heart has evolved while the other fool still cites
Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter.
Life is a long book; our frolics were only one chapter.
Reminiscing about those golden olden days invites
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.
Frail those bonds never were, friendship never did shatter;
Separate but close, we’re both still oddballs by all rights.
Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter,
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
I don’t want to talk;
I just want someone around,
doing whatever we want.
Occasional songs,
noisy yawns, and soft chortles
relieving our shared silence.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
Find me before I am forever lost;
This madness tastes too sweet.
Give direction to these stumbling feet;
They cross lines that can’t be uncrossed.
I gave you up before I knew the cost.
How easily I admitted defeat!
Find me before I am forever lost;
This madness tastes too sweet.
Save my heart before it hardens to frost;
I need your warmth, your burning heat.
Will you please cling to me when we meet?
Find me while my heart is still soft.
Find me before I am forever lost.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
A certain pleasure
seeps throughout my arid soul
when the rain gently
coaxes the unyielding earth
till it is lush and verdant.
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
Even though a cold heart
tries to remain unfeeling,
detached,
unexpected kindnesses
and easy smiles
remind it
that the world is still a warm place.
Even though a broken heart
tries to remain wounded,
lamenting,
changing seasons
and fresh desires
remind it
not all love has to be eternal.
Even though a trembling heart
holds fears
of the unknown,
curiosity to know what lies
beyond comforting complacency
remind it
that courage finds those who seek it.
Even though a lonely heart
tries to remain stoic,
shut in,
fleeting joys,
pure and tender,
tempt it
to choose hope over despair.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
Imagine –
going to bed;
falling asleep
instantly.
You wake,
fresh,
from a dreamless night.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
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.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
When I caught the sunset yesterday
I thought of you,
Smiling at the smeared horizon,
How magnificently you would wear its hues.
You came to mind when it rained
On Tuesday, as I sprinted to take shelter
Under the awning of a flower shop.
Winter is long gone, and yet
Ever morning, I wake up to a cold bed.
Residues of hungry dreams remain
Etched on my skin.
Hot coffee, warm cinnamon rolls,
Even the smell of fresh laundry
Rouses a repressed memory –
Everything brings me back to you.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
Fresh dough, sauce, and melted cheese,
plus wholesome veggies,
add tender succulent meat,
baked to perfection.
Breathe it in before
you dig in.
Drool!
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
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.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 10:34 AM UTC