"apprehensive" poems
Your ability to cheer me up is impeccable.
What's more incredible is your beautiful smile.
How do you always grasp my attention so easily?
It's like your inside the air that I'm breathing.
I feel naive wondering if I even stand a chance?
Thinking about you sometimes puts me in a trance.
I can't help but point out that it's completely in vain,
Have you noticed this, or am I just going insane?
And I hope that you can forgive me for shutting you out.
I never really meant to, it was because of my doubts.
Doubts that you'd do that to me at some point I mean,
It's happened so many times that I've become apprehensive.
Afraid; anxious.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
I remember
sometimes
her voice would quiver
like paper lanterns
dancing in some
foreign nighttime glow
I fancy
sometimes
I knew that sweet tremble
at a tea ceremony table
beneath Chinese skies
many years before
it first caressed my ear
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 10:46 PM UTC
Many have come to pry me open.
Many have come asking for the key.
Offering promises that the doubt would lessen,
flaunting their oaths as currency.
Plenty have assured that they're not like the others.
They promised that their words were forged in steel.
They had come with nothing else except to offer,
their ears and support just so to seal the deal.
"Forgive me", I'd say... I am still a tad apprehensive.
But I do feel the need to speak...
I do long for ears attentive,
Not the ones which are attached to mouths that easily leak.
I know that there are such ears...
Hard to find but they're definitely there.
They'd be ready to catch my tears,
more than willing to show concern and care...
Yours seem rather reliable... That much I see.
They've come with intentions seemingly untainted and kind.
Don't suppose they'd take my words ever so lightly.
They won't lap up my secrets with treachery in mind.
Again I find myself here at the same spot.
About to hand over the duplicate key.
This familiar leap I hope you'd have me caught.
Please don't give away my secrets for free...
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC
A girl stood before me at the supermarket
a few random items littered her basket
pink socks poked out from her sneakers
they were covered with little creatures
an inch of flesh stood between
those ankle high socks and her jeans.
Nice socks I exclaimed!
she turned around inflamed
looked at me and said
I have a boyfriend
her face now red.
Are they his I asked?
her face broke into a laugh
*sorry I got so defensive
guys make me apprehensive
I don't really have a boyfriend
sometimes I just like to pretend.*
*I know how you feel I replied
in embarrassment I've often lied
and whenever I'm struck by beauty
of someone new I meet
I can't look directly at them
I look towards their feet.*
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
Cobalt. Gunmetal. Pastel. Powder. Forget-me-not.
Out of all the blues,
She has the eye color with no name
The eye color that is slowly driving me insane.
Who gave her the right?
To have something so beautiful
I see blue everywhere;
In paintings, photographs—even the air
There are no crayons that can capture it
Not even color codes on computers can match her eyes
Her eyes are the space between the rippling depths of the ocean and the shards of reflected sky
They are the eyes that squint a bit as she smirks because she thinks she's sly
No matter how much I glance to the left during lunch
The color escapes my mind and simply becomes a concept
In my thoughts frustration likes to roam
If it weren't for the non-existent green, her eyes would look like sea foam
But here is no green—
Only hundred year old glaciers, rivers, and stormy skies
I don't even know what blue is anymore
As angering as they are, her eyes are still something I adore
I'm tempted to just ask her what color they are,
But that would mean that I don't pay attention
To do so would be like mistaking a stranger for your dad
Everyone will become apprehensive and think that I have gone mad
Her placid gaze tends to bore through my shell
I feel vulnerable— like she can see my dilapidated soul
But I know that she means no harm;
She is amiable and full of charm
Who knew blue could mean so much
And still be convoluted?
Blue washes the shore with the push and pull of the tides
Blue has managed to stain my thoughts and dye my insides
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
I enter Auschwitz 1.
Apprehensive crunches with every step.
I stand in a gas chamber.
Fully clothed.
With oxygen flowing freely.
I stand on a spot where thousands have stood before me.
But I'm able to make an exit,
Yet I'm rooted to the floor,
Transfixed with horror.
I feel like the last remaining tree,
surrounded by a forest of death.
Deforestation makes me sick.
*
Birkenau has a secret
that it doesn't want to tell.
A broken ending stood still.
The arches.
The ruins.
The tracks.
Thuds of reality slapping my face.
Stood inside the bleak barracks,
our guide asks us
"Imagine what it would like to be here -
What you'd see,
smell,
hear."
My eyes widen open in a scream,
they sting, fighting back at the image conjured within my mind.
I take a sharp breath
and close my eyes.
I am scared.
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 10:00 AM UTC
I want to live a life of sin
Full of women, money and gin
I'll do away with all the rules
And fill my fists with skin and jewels
I want to let go of my morality
Timid, apprehensive mentality
So that I can become a man
And live the only way I understand
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
Feelings are funny things
I used think feelings were the sweet feelings you felt when you were very young
When you were little
(Before the emptiness came)
These were what feelings were... to me.
So it used to baffle me when I got older
After I'd gone through some traumas of my own in life
And suddenly I found much to my dismay
That I no longer felt anything inside myself anymore
Only an emptiness, a numbness, a nothingness... a void
Those lovely early feelings had now all gone
I knew...I knew there was something wrong
But then I'd hear some people say
"Oh, I feel this way or I feel that way... I feel happy, I feel sad, I feel...
And I'd think to myself What! you still feel something inside yourself
Y'know Me! I don't feel anything anymore
All my old feelings that made me who I was they've all gone
And I have no idea how to get them back again.
But then I'd think
Y'know when you say you feel...say you feel lonely or depressed or calm and confident
Overwhelmed or in control... whatever!
all these different emotions/ so called feelings
But these aren't.... these aren't the real feelings are they
Not like the feelings you had when you were a little child
Their just... aren't they just words describing mental states where/how you find yourself during the day
You feel sad probably because you're thinking sad thoughts
Or you feel happy because you're thinking happy thoughts
But sure I could do that
Yea! I could say well I feel... I feel hungry
Or I feel a bit apprehensive about something that's coming up
Or maybe I feel excited because I'm going out to a show somewhere
But these... these aren't the real feelings are they though
Not the lovely sweet feelings you had as a little child
No! Their not the same.
Y'know when a child comes into the world they start as a clean slate
They have no words at all to begin with
Yet even then they have these incredible sweet feelings inside that make them feel so happy and so special
It makes them feel like they own the whole world
Maybe... maybe their a symptom of the Divine. I...I don't know.
And I'd say this to someone sometimes and it's like they'd look at me kind of strangely
As if to say "What do you mean... when you say... the real feelings!
Aug 25, 2022
Aug 25, 2022 at 12:02 PM UTC
This is about my beloved physiotherapist.
He tried his best to help me recover quick.
And today the initial period is reminiscent.
Dr. Amrinder Singh Kaler,
My generous physiotherapist,
Has a rather rare surname.
I used to enquire his name,
As I was extremely curious,
Much like a kid I had been.
Brain injury took heavy toll,
Severely quick memory loss,
At times I used to forget it all.
All day long I was apprehensive & confused,
Scared I remained thinking of physical pain,
I would ask them if someone would come.
I would ask him his name during therapy,
My memory was extremely short & poor,
I slowly learnt his first & second names.
But I would still ask him his surname,
I was not be told straight away by him,
He told me to strain my mind & guess it.
To tell him his own name was not easy,
Especially when I was so much in pain,
It was so much difficult for me to tell it.
But after few months' passage,
It didn't pain much to exercise,
As much as when I was worse.
I found it difficult to recall his surname,
I did say several Sikh surnames to him,
I would say all surnames but his own.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
the narrative does not cling to classicalism of stating whether the pronoun usage is either singular or plural or both to allow an armchair of expression; after all... there's enough for us to bypass the classical philosophical debate about subject and object, simply investigating pronoun usage in relation to singularity or pluralism.
there’s a theory where poetry came from,
one read: cleopatra wanted to hear sweet-nothings
calibrating a razor with a viper’s kiss...
another read: she báthory?
she báthory? she the one that turned milk into blood?
she can burn in hell.
i thought we were un-dialectical in the realms of concern?
no... you see... poetry came from punctuated-impressionism...
or a fear of it... punctuation of course, not from the impressionism...
poets fear punctuation...
give them a semi-colon
and
they
treat
it
like a sidelined line of verse.
this is poetry in mathematical equations:
i had a pear(,)
it was a spare(.)
i had a care for traffic(-)
so i missed( )
the expressions and started using an obelisk to quarter up the mammoth
into chop suey...
poets simple say: next line! when prose says next paragraph
and the prized execution of the 100m sprint . . . (.)
that’s universal alpha romeo with alfa bravo charlie delta (echo)...
come on in the u-turn... give us a smile......... :),
poets says... i need breathing space
without sentenced timing of silence, for the toad to feed inspiration
and envy!
no wonder you came with the alpha - zulu
alphabet given that you used ɪɡ and zoʊ...
so tell me... where’s this copernican west upside down
(this heliocentric west with east being the big bang)?!
i'd swear the thing stopped orbiting in circles
and a thing that's on it's thought started to become
orbital... a fashion sense of the 60s 70s 80s 90s repeated -
that's right, the whole thing became heliocentric
and we became narcissists instead of solipsists
in the geocentric system of worked-up plagiarism
with adequate excuses.)
it's here it the poets apprehensive of punctuation symbology
and instead writing "sparingly,"
to write, e.g.:
i
hate
this
love
affair
claimed
to
be
the
world...
i
rather
chisel
chequers
into
geometry
of
x4
90º.
makes sense poets begot fear of
punctuation and not grammar, they
serviced to explore nothing else,
leaving grammar open long enough to *****
mathematics in... remember...
poets are firstly concerned with punctuation...
secondly with grammar...
philosophy for poets is grammar;
**** i'm um um so drunk i'll need to revise.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC
on the night train to Vienna I dreamt
as the soft tangerine light bled into the windows,
tumbling down infinities of Italian countryside
absorbing into my retinas in summer shades
of dusk-colored haze
entranced I was--
a nervous girl of sixteen years,
uncharted valleys sprawling ceaselessly
at the beds of my fingers,
love languages my tongue could not yet
stretch its fibers around
freedom forming its hunched silhouette
just outside of thin glass windows
cooled by the night’s apprehensive breeze
endless, it seemed
the rumbling blur of possibilities--
my hands sedated for the first time in years.
quietly existing in the jolt of a moving cab,
the subtle ricochet through the faint lamppost glow
of fragile Austrian dreams.
home-- four thousand and forever miles away
and yet here was fine, just fine
a girl with stringy hair and a steaming cup
of midnight European tea
as her mother sighed to herself in the
peak of her American afternoon,
wondering whether her baby had found sleep
in someone else’s morning.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 9:22 PM UTC
Attention apprehensive affliction
Becoming begging believing (in)
Chaotic collapses creations
Demanding demolition degeneration (and)
Epic enlightened endings,
Fake fantastic flows (and)
Greater glamour gore (inside)
Hedonistic homemaker hope
Indicating irrational inspiration
Joyful jittering jugs (but)
Knowledge keeping knees
Letting lovers lose (still)
Meaning maybe more (a)
Notice nothing nepotism
Opportunity oppression ordered
Popular pages prohibited
Qua quantum quivers
Revolving random rallies
Sadly still suffocating
Toxic tension talking
Until unique universal
Virtual vanity villains
Wanton winning waves
***
Yes! You yield
Zap, zing, zoom!
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
There are no endings
as long as I have in
my mind.
I always start off so optimistic,
I'm disappointed every time
Starting off expecting nothing
pleasantly surprised
But the voices they keep talking
and the road is hard to find
We start off so high
looking down on all mankind
but as we decend
the
buildings get bigger and bigger
as
reality ascends
There are no endings
as long as I have in my mind
When change it comes
all will never be the same again
It's a rise and a fall
the time of us all
The light starts in the East
Darkness comes in the West
Change is on our finger tips
But gone with the wind
Anxiety sings in apprehensive images
Peace it sings in harmony
The heart it beats so slowly
In the midst forever
In the past forever too
There are no endings
as long as I have in my mind.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 8:34 PM UTC
Crush:
An intense but usually short-lived infatuation.
Fantasizing about the relationship that could happen.
Shy:
Timid, easily frightened away.
Although the wanting to just say hey.
Wonderwall:
Someone you find yourself thinking about all the time, the person you are completely infatuated with.
But the wish for all the shyness to disappear is still here.
Nervous:
Highly excitable; unnaturally or acutely uneasy or apprehensive.
The wanting to meet but still playing defensive. Accommodated by umm, uhh, ummm.
Hello:
Used to express a greeting, answer a telephone, or attract attention.
Hi, umm. Don't blow it, don't blow it.
Hi! I think you're cute, pretty, adorable, beautiful, lovely, gorgeous. Would you like to go on a date?
Date:
A social appointment, engagement, or occasion arranged beforehand with another person.
She said yes.
Happy:
Delighted, pleased, or glad, as over a particular thing.
She is not just a thing, she is my everything. She makes me very happy.
Love:
A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
It's a four letter word that can have a million meanings and yet only one.
Marry:
To take as an intimate life partner by a formal exchange of promises in the manner of a traditional marriage ceremony.
I take you to be my wife to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us apart, and this is my solemn vow. I love you.
You:
You mean so much,
Yet I do not have a definition.
Because you always seem to surprise me.
No words in this dictionary can describe your overall beauty.
Amazingly, I'm at a lost of words.
Beautiful:
The dictionary's crush;
A person who is reading this.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC
Misunderstood and overwhelmed
Testy and dissatisfied
Apprehensive and alone
Shaken and yet stirred
Confusion isn't crazy
Crazy isn't stupid
Just because there is silence
Does not mean you are not heard
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 2:24 PM UTC
And me i wait down the weight,
of the past
by leaving my plate,
Untouched.
Instead i devour the self hate,
And compensate
for the thoughts in my head.
By pacing along a path,
that'll only lead to my death bed.
But me,
I already died inside,
Many years ago.
And my heart it may slow,
But it does not show my ability to swallow
Mouthfuls of regret at time.
And me,
I combine,
Thought and feelings,
With actions,
I have no sense of attraction,
When i stare at my reflection
That screams rejection,
And i pull out a fraction
of the person i used to be.
Because me
I am 100 pounds too heavy,
80 pounds to heavy,
Every single pound too heavy.
And this weight loss is steady,
And these burdens i carry,
With this thinking that refracts me
Prevents me the ability,
To see any positive trait, or quality,
I drown in a sea,
Of unforgivable mistakes,
I break, crack, smash
Into a thousand pieces.
And you,
You try to iron out the creases,
With therapy and weight gain,
And to you,
I am a piece of paper with a name,
And my tiny frame encompasses
Years of self blame,
Disdain.
And me,
I slip through the cracks in the earth,
As i claw and clasp for an inch of
Self worth.
I try to ride and surf
This tide,
But the feelings inside,
The thoughts in my mind,
Do not allow me to find
Acceptance anywhere.
And me i exhale rotten air,
As i stare at my past,
And i try not to feel,
But this pain is so real,
So me, i skip a meal
And refuse the next,
I filter through the net,
Stomach regret,
And maybe one day yet,
Ill be ready for freedom,
Excited and apprehensive about the person,
I have the potential to become.
But for now,
My meal is undone.
And me,
I run
in fear,
There is no life here,
No beauty near.
And the sheer idea,
That maybe,
Just maybe
A number shouldn't dictate my self worth.
Shouldn't cause me to hurt, myself
That i am worth more,
The idea of closing the door,
Too much to bare.
So in silence I'll stare,
I'll restrict and starve,
And lose my hair,
And don't tell me I don't care,
Because it'd be impossible
For me to care any more,
But can't you see
There's a fire inside of me
And Im burning at the core.
And i guess that makes me a coward, a quitter,
But i can't see anyway fitter,
And it tastes so bitter
Chewing on the past,
And the taste it lingers
And fills up my glass.
But until you've walked in my ever shrinking shoes,
Do not judge me,
Or the choices i chose,
Do not question the freedom i lose,
This body i abuse.
Do not remind me
Of the sanity i could find
For you have no clue
Of the hurricanes
That run wild within my mind.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 6:07 AM UTC
I can't say I will marry her really soon for sure, because this is India and the society here is really tough.
But I'm Atul Kaushal, my name literally means Incomparable Skill and I intend to achieve something significant in my life, such that I'm fully capable to fulfill all her unsaid hidden desires when we marry.
I don't want her to feel any regrets or other negative feelings when she marries me some 7 years later, I only want us to be different than the rest of world such that unlike most of them no problems arise between us due to various worldly problems.
May be I'm dreaming of something perfect, but so far my life has been perfectly imperfect with the share of misgivings I have had is the majority in my performance card and I now wish that when she marries me the only thing which is imperfect is our hairstyle every morning we wake up smiling as we remember the previous night.
May be I am or may be I'm not demanding too much from time - I'm just asking her in my destiny - just her - in my mornings I imagine her jogging with me - in my days toiling at her desk in the office just like me - in my afternoons calling me to verify if I had my lunch we had packed in the morning - in my evenings asking how my day at office had been and telling about hers too - in my weekends I see 'us' having fun.
May be I am or may be I'm not being too apprehensive in my mind - apprehensive that whether her family will accept me as their son-in-law, or we would have to forget each other, or we will have only one way left and that be just to take help from the court and elope to get married, or may be I will just have to abduct her from the wedding venue in full public view in front of her parents, uncles & aunts, siblings & cousins, friends & acquaintances, Hindu priests & pujaris, may be thugs & bodyguards hired by her family to keep the wedding a smooth affair, and may be my parents might refuse to let her in.
But under ideal conditions, it will be as I desired and even later we would be happily parenting two kids for I don't wish to have just one child like I myself had been in my childhood; these scars of loneliness are dug prominently on my face, but these disappear, yes these disappear when you make me smile along you as I hear you smile and I believe that these will surely disappear permanently after our formal union; till then I miss you meri nanhi si jaan my sweet young love, like I should have missed when I was fifteen too - I miss you and I miss you because I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you and I more than love you.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 2:33 PM UTC
#
You are in there, I am certain of it--
Behind the gear's finely-honed,
precision fit gear..
in to gear
in to gear
into gear..
And I wonder.. do you want out?
The machine on the outside, self-repairs
Any attempt towards dismantle from
the external, is futile..
But the internal, beautiful girl..
"I don't know what you mean, about 'machine'"
She is apprehensive, those beautiful
brown eyes, looking up at me..
"Look down, sweet girl"
Her thighs, fully parted, as I slide
in to her.. those amazing hips,
moving so perfectly with mine, extracting..
Milking from me, my warm pulsing *****
a deeply-penetrating lubricant, pulsed
deeply into the machine
As if to lubricate its gears..
As if..
But penetrating so deeply, as to now
permeate the insides of the
mechanization's innerworkings--
turning from lubricant, to that
of a corrosive nature..
Fully coating now, the inner you..
as it turns back now, into that
of a healing balm
Bringing to you a moment of Light
and internal clarity--
long enough for you to see
That the machine is made vulnerable
by the ever-changing qualities of
Love that found its way through
As the awakened parts within you, for the
first time.. understand
the machine's love-blocking, nature
And you begin to choose, mid-orgasm
the machine's dismantle, from the inside--
*'Little by little..
Line, upon line..
Block, upon block..
Precept, upon precept..'*
Until we have the chance, once again..
to do it all again
#
Aug 15, 2021
Aug 15, 2021 at 11:38 AM UTC
*How does one overcompensate
For the incompetence of a nation?*
No compromise for the masses
undeniably stuck in ruts of habit
These days Ive seen and see
We're all craving harmony
With no equitable solution
To take the race out of the face
It's just accumulative corruption
Apprehensive assimilation
Aggression stirring underneath
A stone passive shade of sentience
Now say we might anticipate
The fantasizing fringe of youth
Where we will conquer or be conquered
By depravic spurring truth
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 2:07 AM UTC
A boy named Jake and a girl named Lexi had never met before.
They had a class together last year, but neither one knew it at the time.
They both walked into their Sophomore Drama class for the first time, scared and apprehensive.
Lexi there five minutes before the final bell and Jake, seconds before the final bell.
Jake entered the class and quickly took the only seat on the floor not occupied by an unfamiliar face.
They all introduced themselves, all 27 of them, mostly Sophomores with a few Freshman, Juniors, and a single Senior.It was then, when Lexi said "Hi, my name is Lexis Marilyn Manchester and I go by Lexi," that he first noticed her.
She was cute, shoulder length blonde hair, a floral shirt and jeans, although Jake didn't notice those things at the time. Only her dazzling pale blue eyes, and angelic voice.
The guy sitting next to her didn't say his name at first, even though it was his turn. She tapped his leg and motioned toward the center of the circle the class had made in the Drama Room. Room I7.
He said "How.. uh, my name is Jacob Turner. I don't have a middle name, but I go by Jake."
He was cute. He had short, yet unruly brown hair, a white shirt with the letters "LDTA" on them and nice fitting black jeans. The only thing she noticed about him however were his mysterious pale blue eyes, and for some reason, lack of middle name.
Jake didn't even care that the class had laughed at his lack of middle name. The only thing of importance to him was that when he looked over, the cute girl named Lexis Marilyn Manchester, who went by Lexi, was looking at him. He quickly looked away as did she.
The class went on and neither Jake nor Lexi, made an attempt to talk to the other although they did steal careful looks often. The bell finally rung. It was a seventh period class, so school was over.
On his way home Jake thought of nothing but Lexi, and driving.
He stopped at a sign, only blocks from home. The traffic rushed by. The car behind him did not see his car. They pushed him into the oncoming traffic just as a big SUV hybrid drove by. The driver slammed the breaks but still did not manage to avoid hitting the drivers side door of the small, blue, beat up, Toyota.
The doctors say he was killed on impact.
That's what the school told the small group of friends who were asked to attend a quick meeting regarding the accident. Lexi went.
She thought about him everyday for the yest of the school year.
Even some over summer.
He never faded.
She wouldn't let him for some reason.
He was killed on impact but he never faded.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
*Countless imaginations intrigued,
by words pouring truth and honesty.
The beauty in a picture painted...
Only tired yet wilful eyes will get to see...
Scars of a battle surfacing.
Like dreams clouded by storms.
Willingness to face another fight.
Only deafened yet persistent ears will listen for a new melody.*
***Strings of gambles played...
Blind faith committed into hapless
deals of cards.
Looking for the win amongst a sea of losses.
Only weary yet perservering hands will find the missing shards.***
*Obstacles portrayed,
as struggles form and hope seems to crumble.
An almost misplaced determination,
tattooed in these hands.
Only apprehensive yet courageous legs will continue to trudge forward.*
***The heaviest blows...
Inflicted on the frailest bodies.
Taking the brunt of such callous words.
Only the battered yet ernest mind will prevail sheer follies.
Deep laboured breaths...
Wheezing through seemingly punctured lungs.
Seeking a steady rhythm amidst internal chaos.
Only the worn yet steadfast heart will escape unscathed from bitter tongues.***
rinnette
ryn
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
Crumpled bedsheet.
Solitary pillow.
Brown blanket.
Empty bottles.
Unwashed clothes.
Vacant bed.
The light on the window.
The lighter on the sill.
Disorganized desk.
Weary picture frame.
Capured memory.
Your secret door.
Guitar on the wall.
Take-home souveniers.
Half-opened closet.
Broken shell.
Treasured letters.
Apprehensive footfalls.
Envious looking glass.
Scattered reflections.
Strange languages.
Disoriented voices.
Dissolving names.
Falling promises.
Disappearing bodies.
Reunited hearts.
Interminable glances.
Sheer infinity.
**Because your room is a world where everything,
even pain,
is beautiful.**
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
I never anticipated this.
The ease of our connection,
Sharing my space--mind flooded,
Drowning in apprehensive feelings as I lie awake next to you.
I am not used to your embrace.
Is it terrible that with you I feel safe?
Am I trapped solely within the moments we share?
When hours seem like minutes just because you are here.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
On my left wrist,
My left knee &
My memory
I carry the vestiges of 7th May, 2010.
Physical marks of,
A grievous peril
When I was
I was on the death bed, the bed number 7.
Dreaded bed it is,
In the SGRH &
Only those
Hopeless cases with death knocking are granted 7.
Only child I am,
My parents
Were
Apprehensive about my survival from the 20-day coma.
But their worries,
Care & concern
Paid off
And today I write this poem - contrary to what the doctors had initially said.
And the people,
They wince
At My
Scars - Scared from their own instant imagination of the pain that I've been through.
To some other people,
I'm a living miracle
And to others
I am just a man who glorifies his sufferings - to his own merit anywhere and everywhere .
To the ones of the last kind,
I just have the words
That nobody can
Or rather nobody wants to change their thinking or tell them to try knocking their senses off for weeks.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 11:47 AM UTC