Freedom of Choice

“I love you”, he used to say.

It’d make her squeal with glee.

Just the mere sound of his voice was enough,

To fill her with ecstasy.

Though once he knew he had her,

He took her only for granted.

He’d vanish without a word for months

While she bade her time and waited.

Yet, every time he’d come back to her

And she’d welcome him with open arms.

Because “I love you”, is what he’d say.

And for her that was enough.

Then time took its toll on her,

As the cycle repeated itself.

“I love you”, he said after pulling another Houdini.

He sounded bold and resolute,

Confident of her response.

Instead it made her Cringe and wince today,

Like a physical blow to the face.

Nothing he said could hide now

The hollowness of his heart.

So she kept the phone without a word,

Defeated by the truth

She had till now chosen not to embrace.

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Careless Whispers

Careless whispers make their way

from hushed undertones

to pen and Paper

written down in indelible ink

passed around without a word

back and forth they went

till every pair of eyes had seen

the scene that had unfolded yesternight

when she had given away her heart and more

wrapped in a neatly tied bow

to the one who decried her love today

with one fell sweep of pen and ink

and careless whispers

in tow.

 

 

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A Game of Numbers

The number sizes on your garment

Do not define the size or shape of your personality.

The number scores on your mark sheets

Do not measure your worth.

The number of inches in your heels

Cannot determine your stature.

The numbers holed up in your bank account

Cannot increase your happiness.

The number of donations you make

Cannot diminish the darkness of your soul.

The number of times you’ve fallen in love and failed

Does not label you a slut.

The number of years in your age

Cannot limit the magnitude of your successes.

The number of times you’ve failed

Cannot prevent you from getting up and trying again.

Only the upturned numbers on a roll of the dice

Can make or break you.

Because life is a game of Russian roulette

Where numbers have no part to play.

 

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Lather.Rinse.Repeat

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

A girl’s daily cleansing ritual.

Twice a day ’tis needed

To lather, rinse, repeat.

The first to rejuvenate in the freshness of the morning.

The latter to clean away the grime of the day.

To scrub off the leers that men through along your way.

To wash off the stench of unwanted advances.

And of jeers hidden behind subtle nuances.

To drain away the suds of patriarchy’s condescension.

A gentle foam to soothe over all scars

From breaking glass ceilings.

A circular motion to ward off memories

Of lewd gestures made by men.

It’s called a mindless pattern of repetition

Without critical thought.

But in this society’s construction

Let this age-old idiom be your protection

And never, ever should you forget

To lather, rinse, repeat.


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For more on feminism, click here.

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Scheduling Error 

Due to a scheduling error, one of my poetry posts got messed up and might not be visible to most of you. I’m sharing the link here. I hope you enjoy reading it and give it the love and support you’ve been so kind to provide to all my other poems too. Thank you! (Please don’t let the mess-up stop you from reading it, it’s very close to my heart, so, pretty please?)

Here’s the direct link: Lather.Rinse.Repeat.

Sugar, spice and everything nice

The first guy you’ll ever date
Will remind you of sugar.

Of happy faces, indulgent days, 

Of everything done together. 

Yet, with time you’ll find​ the charm wear out

And the sweetness get nauseating,

You’ll feel the need to be on your own

In order to keep on breathing.

The second guy you’ll ever date

Will remind you of something spicy.

He’ll challenge you and intrigue you,

And you’ll fall hard and fast.

Till you come to a point when fights take a toll

And you know this cannot last.

The third guy you’ll ever date will take you by storm.

He’ll give you sugar,

He’ll give you spice,

And you’ll know it will suffice.

He’ll give you love and he’ll give you space,

Till you grow from me to an us.
Since there’ll be no need to compromise,

Once you’ve found your everything nice.

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Stranded

Right at the edge of the shoreline,

She assumed her daily vigil.

Eyes fixed on the horizon,

Feet feeling the waves ebb.

In the distance, ships appeared

Scarcely bigger than dots,

But she knew without a doubt

None were headed her way.

The silence around was deafening

The ocean sounds, an indistinguishable white noise.

She craved to hear the sweet tenor

Of another human voice.

Yet another day passed by

Just like countless others.

It grew dark all of a sudden

As the sun had set on her life.

Till her eyes caught the flicker

Of a light nearby.

Looking up she saw a large, black, shape,

Looming in the distance.

Land ahoy! Shouted someone

Like music to her ears.

Enthralled by the spectre, she stood up

In utter joy.

As the ship drew near and nearer,

Her heartbeat quickened pace.

She couldn’t contain the excitement of

A chance at last of rescue.

With teary eyes she approached,

Her passage back home.

Then something stirred within her

And she silently walked away.

 Daily prompt: Sail

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A thing of beauty, is in pain forever

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Her eyes crinkle as she laughs

A full-throated, soulful chime.

Her expressions flicker across her face,

Betraying her thoughts every second of the day.

They come and go with each word she says

A little before and a little behind.

Her hair are a golden brown,

Like sunshine dipped in cinnamon,

Falling in gossamery wisps to frame her face,

The curls bouncing with every breath.

Her skin all honey and caramel,

Contrasting against her peachy lips,

That carve a bow with such a perfect arch,

That even cherubs would fail to match.
Then in an instant all that beauty dissolves

When she smiles in utter melancholy,

Over a pain too great for her eyes to contain,

As she pays a price far too dear

For a man’s thoughtless folly.

If you’re happy in a dream, does that count?

If you’re happy in a dream, does that count?
Even if reality is full of hurt,

Where dreams turn dull and ambitions turn to dust.
If you’re happy in a dream, does that count?

Even if you desperately need an escape

Because in this world there is no place for hope.
If you’re​ happy in a dream, does that count?

Even if you’ve lost track of the last time you smiled or had a hearty laugh

When the tears in your eye were only of pure joy.
If you’re happy in a dream, does that count?

Even if the world around you pulls you into abject misery

Where men become beasts and lose all humanity.
If you’re happy in a dream, does that count?

Even if you’ve lived through terrors untold

That no person should ever have to see.
If you’re happy in a dream, does that count?

Even if you never want to wake up.
If you’re happy in a dream, does that count?

Illusion

Oh, but she’s a woman!

“Oh, but she’s a girl.”, they said,

As she was born and didn’t wail.

“Oh, but she’s female.”, they said,

As they hired a less meritorious male in her stead.
“Oh, but she’s about to be a mother.”, they said,

As they passed her over for a promotion yet again.

“Oh, but who’ll look after the family?”, they said,

As they crushed her dreams in lieu of her husband’s.

“Oh, but who’ll carry forth the family name?”, they said,

As they made her do household chores and sent only her brother to school.

“Oh, but she’s a woman!” they exclaim,

As she changes paradigms to carve out her place.
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