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HeronBlue Apr 2018
About to turn twenty two
how long has it been since I learned to tie lace of a shoe?
how long since I learned the best way to live is without a clue

I feel just like ten
why does school seem to be so distant and fragmented then?
Like a memory long unpolished yet bright. I'm older all right.

Nah, I feel like fifteen
why, then, for happiness do I turn to a five-inch screen?
should be out in the field if I am a teen
why doesn't the city, colors and friendship seem evergreen?

nope. too dry to cry
a river thinking the world is mean.
Now I cheer for both the men fightin'.
With inner peace comes bloodlust ridin'

So this is what it feels like to be twenty-two!
Not bad. one-third gone and now left is another two 'twenty-two'
till I bid this consciousness adieu.
HeronBlue Apr 2018
You know you are a penniless poet in a third world country
when returning home to yourself, old electrical devices,
a bonsai and loneliness gives you more pleasure
than waking up every morning does.
HeronBlue Apr 2018
I birthed one flower
just one
and I was so proud
I wore it everyday
in sun and in cloud
like my crowned jewel it lay.

you saw it one day.
loved it and promised to stay.
I warned you
that flower is the only part of me
I can display
without any shame due.

you refused to listen to reality
thought beauty to be internal and steady
never understood the meaning of 'ready'

so I wasn't surprised
when you said you didn't know
what to do when that flower died.
I had nothing but ugly emptiness to show

as expected, you left.
thought my flower to be my craft.
I just laughed silently inside
only if you were the one to decide!

seasons pass by
one by one
sizzling summer, restless rain
wasteful winter. my wait was fun.
another spring, another flower
better, brighter, bigger.
another youth just like you got attracted
as usual- not to me, to my flower.
compared to you, she is prettier.
HeronBlue Mar 2018
bought me a golden, a silver and a lead
told him I just need one to shoot me dead
smiling softly, "aim for your head.
first time's the charm" is what he said.

clock strikes twelve and bubbles burst
I squeeze the trigger in wanderlust.
the bullet, through my flesh, blood and bone runs
passing my pain to the loved ones.
HeronBlue Mar 2018
a bottle of merlot, half-empty
a board of chess, halfway through
chamber of a vintage colt, half-loaded
all lay before me yet i stare at the clock
intoxicated. exhausted.
for me, peace does not come dropping slow.

some lay awake as they are in love.
madly so- she on him, praying that they never fall apart.
He on michelangelo
longing to touch god in fingertips.
goodnight, mr. and ms. valentine
and all the ships at sea.

some stay awake because they work.
desperately so- for they have a lifetime of ratrace to attend to.
trapped in an eternity of mediocre intellectual confusion.
goodnight, mr. and ms. toiler
and all the ships at sea.

some cry awake the whole night.
surprisingly so- were they not "schooled" properly?
does she not know- "nothing lasts forever."
does he not know- "boys don't cry."
goodnight, mr. and ms. dolor
and all the ships at sea.

my companion is bored.
"who, then, sleeps in peace?"
time to show her the ships anchored.
we go outside in the mist and walk with ease.
and stop at the bend of the street
where a vagabond sleeps barefeet.

— The End —