"memorising" poems
Last week I was taught that
no matter how complex an expression may seem
if you multiply it by its conjugate pair
you will always end up with a non-negative real solution.
That is a metaphor for how we have learned to love.
I used to like mathematics, as strange as it may sound,
because memorising the value of pi was
somehow easier than forgetting the notion of you
and I thought maybe comprehending the mechanics of the universe
would lead me one step closer to cracking the combination.
In a world that spins at the rate of 27,900m per minute, a constant can prove tricky to find.
Hence, there is solace to be felt in knowing that even when it is all said and done –
when the final bullet has slipped from our tongues and we are left trembling
upon nothing but the rubble of our own destruction,
two plus three will still be equal to five.
In an attempt to clarify a theory to the class, my teacher analogised
that mathematics is like one big giant jigsaw puzzle:
everything always fits together perfectly in the end
Since then I have learned it is the method without the madness,
the passion for the predictable; it is everything - that love is not.
Not even the greatest mathematician in the world
has been able to measure how much a heart can hold.
There is no algorithm for how to make you come back;
I cannot draw a line graph on the speed at which love left
and even if I could, our gradients would never be the same.
I may have both halves of the bed,
but there is never enough space to fill it with.
If a task takes four hours for ten people to complete
and the same job takes five people twice that time,
how long will it take for a human to feel whole again?
Sometimes I think we are nothing more
than two parallel lines that accidentally crossed paths.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
Hunger eyes stared down at the rod,
awaiting it's own ***** alee
Laid on the satin sheets, arms entangled
milky thighs spread apart
Hunger eyes too stared down at me
laying in inescapable, trembling bondages
A heat burning through our hearts - through us:
That was desire.
I love him like this -
where stars align;
Buttons undone. Eyes lit with a burning flame
waiting to engulf me whole.
Touching me here, there - everywhere
tracing the freckles on my skin that lay like speckled stars
to the lines on my palm. Memorising.
His mouth gilding across with a wicked purpose
as urns of a thousand suns pour blazing down my throat
Not us did the saint align and embrace our pure hearts
We were in the other's self the ruin
of purity's gentle caress
where my hand rests at
in between to ease the trembling core
our bodies lay in the dead of the night
both of us searching for more
to no one but him do I come to thee!
as a cry aches through the silence of the night
our souls connect - one of each
lit for each other
lost, weighed on each others palms;
This was our desire
May 13, 2021
May 13, 2021 at 1:57 AM UTC
i want to love you
like a lazy sunday morning
staying in bed
taking our time
sipping coffee
memorising every freckle
like the constellations in the sky
white sheets
and tangled limbs
with the scent of a memory
fresh on our lips.
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 9:43 AM UTC
There you are, boy, all apatter with
‘Whats the matters’ and those rainy eyes that
look out but don’t want to be looked into
for too long, drier now, memorising cracks.
Forget those useless stomach-drops you feel
you ought to feel, stand taller, be prouder.
Say goodbye to your knees from me, closer
then, the map of falls that took the gravel
with the breeze that were vision’s blinker-walls.
Thank you for the memories you put away
for rainy days, my repository, the
treasure trove of touchstones you didn’t skim.
Every tear and every maple seed you threw:
I still want to make sense of it all for you.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
Where desire is an endless distance...
'He sleeps...I steal his brush,
Dip it red and wet,
Painting on his chest;
A mosaic of Love
My heart's mirror;
I carry him
Beneath my breast,
His Love
The first and last
Of my awakening heart'...
Writing him...
It was the softness of his hand
That held my breath against my will
Nestling in the curve of my arm;
My heart fluttered in his warm smile
As the mocha of his sight drenched me...
Smiles echoed on the canvas
Of tomorrows, suspended in each
Syllable that flowed like manna from heaven;
My fingers abandoned their hesitancy
Outlining his face,
Memorising...
I faltered;
Breathing in the shimmer of what is real;
His smile whispered a promise,
As his voice echoed my own
In an unwritten poem...
Poetry...
Lily white, she wakes near the night river,
The red mantra of Summer's rain, opens
The rose to shadow;
Cradled in awakened smiles,
The touch of twilight intoxicates visions of fairy-tales,
Like somber hues of unbuttoned fragments...
Heartbeats,
Soaked to the hollow of *******
Tucked in the deep comas of the lotus moon;
Her silver light,
Seamless,
Dreaming silks and milk tender...
A whispered name...
Hands steeped in honey,
Moving slowly through deep-red,
Echoes of dream;
Stillness,
Swallowed,
As hours burn pale candles,
Frozen eternal in spangles and lace...
Her wings wrap his pain in song;
Feather light,
A kiss of sweet enchantment,
Beyond the delicate tick-tock
Of destiny's hourglass;
A verse vertigo
Set free by the bleeding of her pen...
Reflections.....
This soft everlasting kiss
Nourishes the weeping within,
Showering each cold-shadow with warmth;
He sings in my skin,
Where we go in midnight's colours
My body, a pebble on his mountains;
Immersed in an endless sky;
Miracles flourish
Embraced in our endless beginnings.........
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 2:12 PM UTC
I still remember the first time I ever met you,
I still remember where we were,
I still remember we were right beside each other,
I still remember the way you talked,
I still remember your first girlfriend and the way you used to be around her,
I still remember wishing it was me and not her.
I still remember our inside jokes, and how bad they were,
I still remember the first night we spoke on the phone,
I still remember telling myself to get it together,
I still remember how close we got, 3 years later.
I still remember your sense of humour, and your love to make everyone around you happy,
I still remember how quiet you can get whilst you were thinking,
I still remember the first time we hugged, and how awkward it was,
I still remember the time you came to the airport to say goodbye,
I still remember you telling me how you felt about me, a year later,
I still remember getting annoyed because our times didn’t work together,
I still remember that night that you asked me to be your girlfriend,
I still remember the goosebumps that I felt when I said yes,
I still remember the excitement I feel whenever I get a text,
I still remember the frustrations we felt as the seas put our love to the test,
I still remember the disbelief I felt as I finally flew back and I saw you again,
I still remember the first time you held my hand,
I still remember my fingers memorising your face,
I still remember how you made me feel,
I still remember the way you kissed my shoulders,
I still remember the way you loved me,
I still remember your friends telling me how I made you feel,
I still remember how they told me you were always missing me,
I still remember the way your eyes looked as they stared at me,
I still remember how that made me feel,
I still remember how I cried as I looked at your picture in the plane, the second time we said goodbye
I still remember how our love died, as time passed
I still remember the way our calls got shorter
I still remember how your reasons got longer
I still remember crying over you, no longer of joy, but of pain
I still remember asking the Lord, what is there left to gain
I still remember you giving up,
I still remember my heart breaking,
I still remember demanding you, is this all what you’ve got?
I still remember the last time we said goodbye.
I still remember the nights that made me cry,
I still remember writing it all down as my emotions died,
I still remember all of this a year later,
I still remember how in love our love made me feel.
I still remember how I wished those heartaches were never real.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 5:22 AM UTC
11 | 31 Poems for August 2017
For some odd reason, I am still sitting here in my bedroom writing about you.
Your heartbeat reminds me of the timeless tune of my favourite melody.
Loving you is like looking at a shattered mirror, and clearly seeing every bit of the broken reflection.
The wind said something about you today, something that blew me away.
I cannot remember any of the words though because I was too busy thinking about you.
I’ve been thinking about you because every part of your existence is beautiful.
Your hazel-brown eyes are a beautiful reminder that God will not forget to look for me whenever I feel lost in the world.
I have spent countless hours memorising the curves of your smile and the lines on your skin.
Including the happiness and joy in the sound of your voice and all the beauty that lies within.
For some odd reason, I am still sitting here in my bedroom writing about you.
How do I write something so beautiful that’s bound to blow you away without having it sound like another poetic cliché?
Loving you is like looking at a shattered mirror, and clearly seeing every bit of my broken reflection.
My words will continue embracing all that I have discovered in myself because of you.
Within your sporadic bursts of laughter, I always find the freedom I had lost.
I will continue writing about you in ink, so that my notepad can finally feel the permanence of your presence in my poetry.
The spaces between my words will always be your place of refuge.
My poetry will continue writing about all that I have discovered in myself because of you.
I will continue to sit here in my bedroom and effortlessly write about you.
The world may read the pages of my soul, but my poetry will always belong to you.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 12:47 PM UTC
i bear the cross of faith
tied down to the angels of
Heaven.
He listens to my praises
like the whisper of windchimes.
a tickling of silver tongues.
in the trying times
He burns in my head
a fireball of glory
a lavish thought in my brain.
He instills fear
He instills pride.
we read the words from His Grace
memorising the holy scripture
pretending like we understand Him
pretending like He
understands us.
the loss of faith is lost upon all.
and so as i sing these monotonous
phrases of glory
inside the church of alabaster
i ask of Him a delirious question
and he would answer deliriously.
a consciousness of oneself.
and as i feel my feet on the floor
the gold tiles freezing my soles
i bring into His Grace
a sinner
i ask myself
i reside in a golden cathedral.
i bear the cross of faith
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 6:09 PM UTC
it was the city we talked about in those long nights when we had nothing to say, lying in your bed and memorising the way the dark painted shadows across our cheekbones and jaws. melbourne, you would whisper.
a city far away and cultured and quaint and brimming with old buildings and trams and coffee houses and american things like seven-elevens and starbucks.
it was different being there with you. much more different being there without you.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
Bullock carts moving forward
With the music of jingling bells
Women walking like a peahen
Balancing mud pots of water
On their head with a band
Women churning butter from
Milk with the churning rod
Men with their spades to fields
Ready for the ploughing
Boys,with their tool, catapult
Aiming at the juicy mangoes
Little girls running with laughter
To the call of a bangle-seller
Old men sitting in the verandah
Memorising their days of youth
Fruit selling woman calling out loud
Bananas,Apples,Mangoes
Smoke from the chimneys
Like an engine of a train
Red chillies, turmeric and coriander
Spread on sheets in the sunlight
Goats and calves crying out in
Search of their pet homes
Village full of greenery with
Gulmohars, Banyan and Neem
Busy with their daily duties
Happy with no disappointments
The villagers of olden days !
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
People used to say you can see someone's story,
Just by looking deep into their eyes, their soul.
I never understood what that meant, not really.
Until that one day, I ended up seeing it for myself.
That deep aura, in those gorgeous ocean eyes.
Orbs anyone would give anything just for a glimpse.
Nobody realised, or they didn't bother to see the reality,
That girl was drowning in her own gorgeous ocean eyes.
I saw the light in his eyes vanish,
that gentle curiosity I touched upon, banished.
Turning colder, distant, until ashen of a memory remained.
Until I was alone, trapped, and in this world, I was chained.
I finally looked deep, really deep.
Not just in others, in me too.
And oh, don't their eyes weep,
to be seen, and trying to pull through.
I understood now, I saw their stories, deep within.
I glanced deep into their eyes, memorising every piece of their souls.
I truly understood what the life in people's eyes meant.
They say what words can't.
I understood while his eyes brightened,
free at last, beyond this world.
But mine dimmed, bound to the silence he left,
Unable to live without the first light that found me.
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 9:11 PM UTC
I'll take shelter in my memories of a fool.
Because nothing hits me harder then the
Emotions when I see you.
You left me broken and ashamed
Nothing left but picture frames
All I know is that I lost the best part of me
When you left me hanging.
I took shelter in the deepest part of my brain.
Remembered how you were before you changed.
You used to smile.
The kind that would light up the whole room.
Now you do nothing but stand in the corner and brood.
I found shelter in a cramped up space.
Stuffed and overflowing with nothing but memories of us at your place.
Do you remember the day we just sat and talked?
Sitting under the grooves of the wall,
Tracing, memorising every little detail
Lord knows I still go over everything
Replaying it over and over again.
If I could do it all over
I know I'd do it differently.
I wouldn't have let you walk out the door
Even if my life depended on it.
I wouldn't have let you crawl into that dark room in your head
You know the one where it makes you afraid,
Afraid that everything is your doing,
That its your fault we're losing.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 8:03 AM UTC
when
did cooking your own jam
from real strawberries
and sugar
become an act
of treason against
equality
between the sexes?
when
did turning off the tv, the laptop, the phone
to play with your children
offline
become an act
of valour and extreme
symbolism
in most families?
when
did reading glossy advertisements
and memorising them
for extra credits
become an act
of duty as a proper
citizen
in the modern world?
when
did choosing an alternative lifestyle
deliberately
and with no concern for wealth
become an act
of excentric
irresponsibility
in an enlightened society?
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 4:27 AM UTC
She’s the end but still not the aim;
All the paths lead to her, may be with different stops;
Though she is unstoppable, will come and is inevitable;
Colours of life draw us away from the truth, diverging our thoughts;
The god of death! Unwelcomed, in spite of being god;
Worshiped! but, prayers are request to delay his arrival!!;
Life and death differ, being known and unknown experience;
As we love life why not to love death?;
Death alone makes person alone, exploring the unknowns;
Death alone ends the curiosity of her being unknown;
Is she the end, and all the worldly secrets would be revealed?;
Or is it an invitation to another world, which then to other?
Spells on her perceivers, realise it her arrival, stopping it on the last stop;
Some worship, some do good, a few remain same 'ignoring it';
Bribing god, trying to avoid painful end, a few 'challenging it';
Other few confident from outside, inside hoping little bad to be overlooked;
People memorising their past, impart their suggestions;
"No point doing this, at this point you will feel all unworthy" says olds;
"We command the whole world, he is commanding us" feel young;
A few analyse correctly and shrink their sack of mistakes;
She treats equally, every living thing, over social discrimination;
Forgetting the end, gathering luxuries, she will apart them!;
Time will make us soil, mortality is thing we will experience;
Our ideas, deeds if useful enough, will be used and remembered;
Nov 14, 2010
Nov 14, 2010 at 7:43 AM UTC
Touch me the way you touch books - lightly skimming your fingertips over the spine, opening the pages, gently leafing through them, using your fingers pointing to each word, and just memorising the way the parchment feels against your skin.
Hold me the way you do with an old fragile book, or a new book that you're afraid of damaging - gently holding the spine, afraid of opening me too wide and hurting me, taking in it's musky scent, and studying every word, committing it to memory.
But don't end me the way you do with books - putting it down gently, only picking it up to reread occasionally, and leaving it on the shelf to collect dust on it's cover.
Keep me by your side, like a diary, and write in me, telling me your truest feelings, terrified of losing me, for fear that others would uncover your darkest troubles.
Keep me by your side and always read me, read through your past entries, treasure me, and place all your trust in me - I'll never disappear, your memories, happiness, sorrow will always remain with me, and you will never have to worry about forgetting anything. You will always have me by your side.
But when the pages are filled up, don't stop - add in new pages, like you can with any diary. But I doubt I will ever be filled up because I've enough pages to last you a lifetime without any worries of me ending.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 5:27 AM UTC
I want someone to love me
like I'm the reason they exist
I want someone to spend hours
mapping and memorising
every inch of me
I want someone to ask me
about my deepest thoughts and desires
I want someone to know all my fears
and all my favourite things
I want someone to look at me
like my eyes are the sun
and my voice is the wind
and my anger is a storm
and my sadness is a
deep
deep
ocean
I want someone to lay with me
and run their hands through my hair
and be pained by how much they love me
I want to be loved so much that I feel it
wherever I go
I want to be loved so deeply
that on my darkest days and even darker nights
the love radiates out of me
and cocoons me in strength
and support
I want someone to love me so much
that they couldn't imagine a single second without me
I want someone to love me like I love them
I want someone to love me.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
Life's a blank canvas and the artist's sometimes not you, but those who once came into you.
Some have sparks so blinding you almost forget the charred mess they made; some have hands so warm you couldn't resist memorising every contours of their palms that you almost would make a replica of them; some leave lines so intricate yet untraceable you wonder if they were supposed to be maps that lead to somewhere.
Learn to draw on your own and draw for your own. Paint all that is intangible and paint all that you that you could hold. Remember that no one could love you better than you do.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 7:01 AM UTC
Laying underneath the ***** brown tree I pause.
I hold on to my beating heart and look at you.
Memorising your features from your almond eyes,
To the freckles on your cheeks,
To the pearly whites of yours.
A smile slowly forms as I feel the heart on my hands beat ferociously.
As I see the holes and cracks in it slowly close.
As I watch the darkness being overwhelmed by light.
I close my eyes just to heighten my senses.
To be able to hear your breathing.
Slow and steady breaths.
Heart thumping with the rhythm of my own.
Talking in morse code.
I pull my arms out and open my eyes.
I look at the red, muscular object.
Beating hard.
I sigh and look at you.
Almond eyes watery.
"This is my heart, it's not much but this is it.
You're probably wondering how I'm able to breathe but as long as my heart beats in rhythm and harmony with yours, I'm alright"
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
*Memorising her childhood days,vacations,grand parents
Grandmother with eyes on road waiting the arrival of her grandchildren
Woke her up the horn of cars getting into the courtyard
Eyes filled with tears of happiness seeing her family
Running towards expecting a grand hug
Busy in their world of technology desisted unnoticed
Grandmother's priceless valuable love for them
Seconds,minutes,hours,days bygone
House filled with members of her family
Where she alone with nothingness of love
Abandoned in a corner with a heavy heart*
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 6:39 AM UTC
The warmth of your touch awakens my soul, the charm of your arms shook my inner self,my body aches to a language only you understand,
Im yearning for you as you drive your hands all over every angle of my body a touch of intimacy
I crave for the taste of your lips in my mouth, a desire that rushes with a full force inside me
You had me tighter than ever, your hands running through my hair as u softly whisper to my ear
I mumble, as i start speaking in tongues, I remember how much I miss your touch a touch of intimacy I remember how much I you
Sitting down memorising your words
thinking about our old days, how young we were i miss you my old friend,
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
Walking
Talking
Chatting
Gossiping
Laughing
********
Moaning
Capturing
Planning
Drinking
Eating
Living
Dreaming
Memorising
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
letters were created so humans can communicate, so a person knows exactly what another person is feeling. There are 26 letters in the english alphabet. I've been trying for days, but I cannot arrange those letters in a way that explains how I feel about you. there are endless possibilities but I'm at a loss for words. a lot of people would say it's love. even more would say it's lust, but I don't want you to touch me. I don't want to spend time memorising the way your eyes constantly shift from mine to hers. I don't want to think about your arm around her waist every single night before you fall asleep. I don't want to love. I don't want to hurt. I don't want to be so wrapped up in you, I forget you're already wrapped up in her. I get so high at the thought of holding your hand, but remembering your hand belongs to her is the quickest way to sink.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
Occupied, busy, locking doors,
unwashed hairs, frizzy, always
calculating, almost all days,
memorising, dedicated hearts
mesmerising all possible counterparts.
He came outside today, smelled a flower,
finally left his tower, to play,
as long as his muscles stay fresh,
his flesh away from sour
tiredness, he'll find reasons,
methods to devour our beauty.
Processed, bland, in order,
safely divided, a border,
statistics, graphs and charts,
his mind parts all he wants to know
from where he feels he wants to go.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 5:33 PM UTC
At first
You meant nothing to me
You were just another one
Another blonde hair, blue eyes
In the back of the room
Just another one
In the sea of insignificant faces
That I would soon forget
But then
Suddenly
You are someone
Suddenly
You are the one
With the blonde hair and the blue eyes
But you are also
The one
With the big dreams
The dead parents
The voices in his head
The large hands and long fingers
The golden streak in his fair hair
And the most beautiful blue eyes the world has ever seen
You are different
Suddenly
I want to be with you
Every waking hour of every waking day
I want to be by your side
Listening to the deep baritone of your voice
Suddenly
I want to spend an eternity
Memorising the handsome features of the face
Suddenly
I cannot bear to be parted from you
You mean too much to me
It came on so quickly
I didn't see it coming
How did it come to this?
How could I have not seen it before?
How could I have regarded you simply as just another one
In the back of the room?
You are so much more than that
You beautiful being
How could you have changed so much in my eyes?
How could I be
Suddenly
Falling for you?
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
god almighty, it really has become that,
constipated writers inc.,
you can see them bargain hunt
the next big word - big word among
very simple narrative, stands out
like a christmas tree in a forest
of anorexic pine - they've started the
conveyor belt of horse eye shutters
so they can be reined in on the basis of
some puppet voodoo via the hindu
muses of brahman, it's a 'down the line'
moment: a does what a can only do,
and b does what b can only do,
given c is the process by which
a does what a does prior to not doing it,
like b, which does what b does prior to not
doing it;
me? well i too wish i was an english literature
or a journalism university drop out,
the hard man, the one who left school
at 16 without any qualifications,
started a record company, signed mike
oldfield believing that tubular bells would
be the basis for the soundtrack to both
halloween and the exorcist
(1973, 1978 and 1974 respectively) -
but they're just coming out of these institutions
with institutional verse - they're bothered
and conscious of techniques, they know
why and when to use a metaphor,
they care about saying a maxim about a similie,
they do everything by the rubric as if poetry
was a multiplication table worth memorising,
they write about thirty words a piece
in order that someone might write a 10,000 word
essay playing surgeon on them, cutting them
up to such a bare minimum that you could
almost learn kabbalah inside-out -
but i did graduate with a chemistry degree
unfortunately, and that makes me no hard man,
but i did masacre a bottle of absinthe
at about ~96% in one night and got annoyed
at not being drunk enough - yeah... hard as
they come... nothing to be proud of in all
honesty... yes all that sugar on spoon, bit
of absinthe on sugar and inferno - then some
water to dilute the absinthe and make it
milky green (czech absinthe doesn't turn milky,
some additive is missing, i can't remember) because
i have this one point to make: over-analysing
poetic expression, being conscious of poetic
techniques, in general orthodoxy is so ******
tedious that you begin to put faith in free verse...
that splendour of spontaneity like fireworks set off
un-expectedly on guy fawkes night giving you a startle.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC