Changing the world, one word at a time.
Finding forever
In the middle of nowhere
Building eternities
From here to there
Throwing caution to the wind
Without a care
Writing my own truth
Even if it’s only a smear
A Cheshire cat’s grin
Is what I wear
I’m upto no good
This I solemnly swear.
To read the first seven features in the “Why a Poet” series, please click on the links below:
1. Why a Poet
Not strangers yet
But lesser than what we were before
We’re hanging in the middle
Doing the age old dance
You have one foot out of the door
While I’ve placed all my bets
Is it politeness
Courtesy
Or
Chivalry
That lets you leave the cards on the table
Facing down
So I won’t have to see
The huge quantum of my loss
Or do you still have
An ace up your sleeve?
Do your conjuring trick, my dear
Don’t vanish this time round
Enchant me once more, my love
And never break the spell
Will you lift me up or run me into the ground
I guess only time will tell.
Offer me your hand again
Clasp mine in yours
Tell me you’ll see me soon again
And smile
The smile
Which held all the promises of the world
The one which I recall every night
And cry
I’m glad you didn’t embrace me in your warmth
For there’d be no recovery
No moving on
Nor getting over
That inedible memory.
Come to me
On a sleepless night
And gift to me
A dream
Wrapped in a foil
Of hope and chance
Signed with a card
Of love
Come to me one night, my dear
So I may live for a day.
Yesterday
I wrote
Thriving in your presence
An ode to love
And today
I write
Sinking in despair
An antidote to your absence
A balm to the pain
A salve to the hurt
An obliteration of memories
Yet you seep into
Every word
Flow out
With every thought
Hijack every feeling
Till I can no longer write
In ink
As my heart
Bleeds dry.
Some people are like matchsticks
Starting up with a dazzling light
Before flashing and burning down to nothing
A simmering pile of soot
A has been of a never was
And some
Are like candles
Slowly burning
With a subdued glow
Spreading warmth
Giving light
Melting themselves
For your sake
Yet, we let the dazzle
Blind us to the warmth
Probably why my heart is dank and cold today
Rather than a well lit, cosy abode
Strike a match again, will you?
And light up the wick?
Writers play with words, they say.
No, my dear. Writers pen down feelings in the form of words after they’ve been played with.
“You know there’s no such thing as ghosts, right?” He said, when she told him she’s scared of watching horror movies because the scenes come back to her at night.
She nodded in mute assent. Acknowledging what was only logical.
Her mind, however, delved into a separate plane.
She wondered – what of the ghosts of memories that come back to haunt our every waking moment?
Or the phantom shards of broken promises that pierce through our very heart?
The spirit of a future, dead before it could even come alive, like an unborn child, but always a part of our existence?
She thought of the demons of jealousy, ego and pride residing within us, gnawing away at our very cores.
The fear of failure, draining away our life’s source.
But most of all
She thought
Of men and women who enter our lives and then leave a trail of destruction in their wake.
No, he’s right, she thought. There’s no such thing as otherworldly, undead ghosts. For they paled and faded away in the face of the monsters that live in this very world.
Hello my lovelies,
I tried something different with this piece. Still in two minds about it. Not sure if it conveys what it wanted to say. Would love to know if it resonates with you and what you feel about it. So please humour me, maybe, and drop a comment down below?
And as always, thank your for reading!
Love,
Varnika.
Go ahead and tell me again
How this was a bad idea
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before
Not once, not twice, not thrice
Every time I’ve tried to love
I’ve paid this heavy price
So push and shove
And set me aside
Or
Leap and jump
And show some faith
For I’m more than
Just a bad roll of dice.
