Sunday, February 28, 2010

da da da dum

am i selfish? is it wrong that i don't want other people to finish my sentences and interpret my words, and still appreciate me? is it odd that i want to be accepted and loved, but exactly as I see myself, and not others' interpretations of me?
***
this blog started out as escapism. a tiny little bunbury. it started out as an Algy-ish bunbury, where the point is to escape, in style, but nonetheless what he does on his bunburies is never the point. but now its evolving into an Ernest-like situation. and i feel inordinately happy when people rate my posts.
and slowly, the stubborn my-blog-is-for-me-to-write-not-other-people-to-read complex receding into sheepish, oh-YAY-someone-actually-READ-it!

sigh.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Room

she painted herself a room
and walked into it
just like that
and lay down on the rich blue bedspread
and watched the world pass her by.
she
saw as they
lifted her world
into
another.
a room
a room full of rooms
other peoples rooms
with other lonely hearts
dozing on leather couches
staring at bowls of sunflowers
looking out of rainy windows
and watching the watchers go by
she watched
as the dissected rooms
parts of them hidden
to all but those who painted them
were looked at
talked about
pondered upon
she waited
as someone walked up to her room
and stared at her across a red velvet cordon.
and she stared back
until he gave up
and wandered away.


because i am that bored.

so.
there are 1411 tigers left in India.
people have died in Jammu and Kashmir.
and i have board exams in four days time.
and inexplicably, I'm content to laze around on facebook, search for poetry blogs that i can read from beginning to end and then develop a complex about, eat fat free fruit yogurt that is utterly disgusting, and generally leave the world alone.
sometimes i wonder what happened to me.


Friday, February 19, 2010

Drifter

drifter
he
floats on the slate-black surface
a glint of stubble
and shadowed eyes
casting blackness over the darkness
drifter
waiting
and waiting
for something to bite the line.
drifter
he waits
floating
between this world
and another
waiting
between
the blurred lines of night and day
and before dawn
and after night
and waiting
for something to bite the line.
drifter
the moon fell asleep
waiting for him to leave her in peace
but he waits
stubbornly
for proof
that fish
exist between worlds too.

***
drifter
ethereal
she floats
between this world and that
her hair browned
bleached
with dirt and the sun
straggling behind her
as she lifts her face
grimy
paled
eyes widened
wider than normal people's can be
light eyes
shocking the rest of her face with their beauty
unaware of existence around her
drifter
she waits
for luck to fall into her palm.

****

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

all of my poems
sound
hollow
because sometimes, you say these things
that just take my breath away
and make me feel like the
most beautiful thing on earth
and feel like i don't deserve you.
you make me cry sometimes
just
by
loving me the way you do.

Monday, February 15, 2010

and so we graduated

we reach the end of a time
a long time
or so it seems.
we walked a long way
through golden sand
and squelching puddles
and through amber sunsets
and overrated moons.
and we laugh
at all the pieces we collected
spread them out on the table
and smile
remember when..
remember when
you made me laugh
harder than anyone else knew how to
remember when we
pointed at them
and laughed at her terrible clothes
and how bad his jokes were
remember when
we sat on the bathroom floor
and you watched as i cried my heart out
remember when
we walked
and felt the wind blowing in our faces
and somehow, never thought that it was a moment significant enough to remember.
so many little pieces
its hard to keep track
and we know that some will slip through the cracks
and get lost along the way
and some will lie forgotten in dusty corners
but all of them
someone or the other will remember
and treasure
in their own way...

and so we store our memories,
break them up,
and put them away in a dusty old box,
like a thousand piece puzzle,
the kind that old people have.
even if you never put them together again,
you know that when you will,
you'll make something beautiful..

Monday, February 8, 2010

Sepia

she lay back
dreamily
and waited
for love
to prance along
and tie a velvet bow in her hair
wait till she tightened its bow tie
and then walk off to tea and cakes together.
she lay back
sensuously
and waited
for love to slip through the door
and make her forget the world for a while
and then wake up hours
later
to a tainted,
red-tinged sun.
she lay back
smiling
and snuggled under the covers
and waited for love to snuggle down beside her
whisper into her ear
and hold her
till she fell asleep
and then watch her breathing
with no other thought in the world
she waited
for love
to take her by the hand
and skip through sunrises and flower-gardens
and laugh
and take pictures of it all
to preserve in silver frames
so that people could remark
how beautiful she and love looked together
back in the day.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

=)

“"Well," said Pooh, "what I like best -- " and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called”

Happy birthday, retard =)

smile,
forever.
i'll love you
for however long
our forever lasts
laugh off
what the world says
and know that
you always have something to smile about
hold your glow in your heart
and let it out from your eyes
when no one can see
and know that
i'll love you
for our forever.
we're beautiful
moonlight
and sunshine
measure for measure.
drunk
with ourselves
we float higher and higher
till the bubble bursts
and we cascade down to the ground
and laugh at ourselves all over again
we will always laugh with each other
whatever happens
i love you
my happy place.
smile
for our forever.

Pollyanna

she is "glad"
that she met me
and glad that we cried
and glad that the ocean
didnt fit inside
her palm
and glad that the butterfly didn't want to play
and glad that the puppy refused to stay
because he wanted sometimes,
to be loved a little less.
so what was the harm
in her happiness?
she is but a child
let her heart break
and let her mend it herself
let her see rainbows and moonlight
and think that it will last forever
hearts
were made to be mended
and so let her mend her own
sew it up
with fraying blue thread
and let her smile wistfully
and remember that once
it was the colour of the sky
and let her be glad for it.
let her be glad
for every little thing god gives her
let her make herself happy
you
are the only person you have to live with
so better
that it is you
who makes you happy.
little Pollyanna
look at the world around you
see the people
as they selfishly grasp at the fraying threads of happiness
pull a web of people around them
and make them make their dreams come true
look at them
and be glad for them.

Strawbella

it's strange
how suddenly
i'm glad you exist
how odd it is
that the number of times
I've wished you away
I'm
more thankful for you than for anyone else.
when i feel disconnected from the world
i think of you
and how you're probably the only one who'd understand
you think like me
we're like two cabbage patch dolls
cut from a very different cloth
different colours
different ragged clothes and hair
but somewhere,
some resemblance.
sometimes,
i even love you
because you say these things
that make me wish i had thought them myself.
you're the other side of the rainbow
the realer one
the depth of the spectrum
rather than the different coloured glow
you make more sense than i ever will
you plant your feet firmer into life
than i will ever know how to.
cabbage patch doll,
don't hate me
don't ever let me hurt you
we were meant to meet,
and meant to understand each other
despising each other
for knowing our thoughts better than we know them ourselves.