Haiku
quiet winter beach
young girl on shore
eyes brighter than the stars
The first line of the haiku is the description of the setting, which is a quiet winter beach. The second line brings forth the presence of a girl who is on the shore of the beach. The third line projects the relationship between the stars and the girl. The girl is shown to have brilliance that outshines the stars.
It’s Been A While
It’s been a while
Since I last stood and stared
At something,
at anything.
But it was nice.
Not feeling what you say I must.
Not thinking,
not speaking.
I forgot how I so longed,
To hear silence sing thus.
It’s every note soft,
lulling me to sleep.
Soon was I awoken,
My heart suddenly bare.
For I shall forget once more,
To simply stand and stare.
I wrote this poem after admiring a secluded area in college for 15 minutes.
Limerick
I bow down my head to this feat.
Great are these men of deceit.
We vote for these men,
Elect them again,
As our world plays on repeat.
This was my first attempt at a limerick. I intended to portray the defection committed by the politicians of the state.
True Love
Tired and weary, sad and forlorn,
Like bits of paper, her life had been torn.
‘Twas fake reality, which had given her hope,
And the very same people, tied round her neck a rope.
She had lost faith in a power, a power so strong,
Her mother called it love, and she said to her all along,
“True love you will find, in any form it may be,
Just remember to gift your heart, the power to see.”
‘Twas just yesterday when, she strolled in the forest yonder,
She walked the lonely, damp, path, lost in a ponder.
Then suddenly and abruptly, her heart skipped a beat,
The grass on the ground, had caught her bare feet.
The very next moment, she was lying under a tree,
Nothing in this world had set her so free.
With the sun in her eyes and the wind in her face,
Her life was now the past, of which nature wiped all trace.
At last she found love, which wasn’t hard to see,
And now she has not a care, her life is carefree,
Those who find true love, in life they get the best,
Just be true to yourself and let love do the rest.
I wrote this poem when I was in the 11th std. It was an assignment for English and the topic was given to us by our teacher.
How Grim a Life
This poem was written by making use of random words spotted in a newspaper.
The words happened to be grim, hit, death, trade, clamp, promise, year and renew.
How harsh a life wherein you live,
To simply exist year after year,
To trade your life for another,
To hit rock bottom while on a plunder,
To clamp your mouth for fear of hand,
To act for the promise of a better land,
To renew the hurt of those you love,
To tell yourself “I am a dove”.
How grim a life wherein you live,
To simply die before death itself.
Independence
Independence
(With love to all the married women who are a part of my life)
I wake up to the waft of food
And follow its path
To its source.
There stands a woman, short
Yet standing tall
Brewing love.
I ask her how she feels about
standing there like that
So restricted,
She smiles her ever inspiring smile
As she pulls me into a hug
And tells me -
This is what independence is to me,
These four walls,
My fort,
I rule over my entire family
Not with authority
But with love,
This ring of promise around my finger
Gives me liberty to be
And still be loved,
Never have I felt like a caged bird,
All of you, simply the wind
Against my wings.
If only I could show the world her strength
Maybe all those funny women
Would realise.
I wrote this poem to describe what independence means to me.
The Grim Reaper
Year after year
I challenge the grim reaper
To come forth with death
To dig a grave deeper
I wonder if he would hit me
Or ask me if I’d like to trade
My soul for immortality
Give my Heart, take a spade
Would he clamp my veins
With guilt that he’d renew
I wonder how he’d make me pay
For all that is due
I decided to try and write a different poem based on the same 8 words I had used for a poem I had written earlier.
The Story of Giga Maymee
There once lived a queen.
They called her Giga Maymee.
Powerful they said she was.
Few knew she could barely see.
She had a pet dragon, Bika,
Whom she loved as her child.
He once burnt her chamber,
But she thought it was mild.
Now Bika only ate humans, so,
We know where the prisoners went.
An evil nephew of Giga
Into Bika’s mouth her sent.
This was my first attempt at writing a ballad, so I decided to write a humorous piece about a hero.
Carpe Diem
Carpe Diem! Seize the Day!
What if I just go out and play?
Why must I worry about your say?
My heart loves to wander away.
All you ‘great’ people, go on, mock me,
Your eyes and fingers are setting me free.
What I am, is what you’ll never be,
What I dream, is what you’ll never see.
Praise be! I can see what you are,
Your soul has split, Satan isn’t far.
I sit on the beach, uma estrela do mar,
The sea burns my skin, I blaze like a star.
This was my first attempt at Slam Poetry.
The Book
It belonged to my father,
On my shelf, the book.
It’s got tape at the bind,
It’s not great when you look.
Father would read it to us,
We waited for it, every night.
Mother refused to do it,
story-telling she said, wasn’t her right.
The book spoke of far aways,
Lands that seemed so distant.
Each story so captivating,
My heart for more insistent.
Now I’m so far away,
In a land from the stories I’d read
And there sits that book at home
Telling stories, before, unsaid.
This was my first attempt at writing page poetry.
Part II
The mourner who doesn’t
Have you ever wondered why
It’s harder to visit the mourning house
Than it is to be living in the house itself?
“Sorry”, “Don’t worry”,
What do these words mean
To those who are drowning in sorrow.
So we peeped in, took a deep breath
And stepped into the house
Not knowing what to say, how to look.
Hugs for the young one,
A pat for the old,
We did our ‘duty’ to them.
When funerals happen in my home,
Everything plays in slow motion,
And I am once again, simply an observer.
The Beginning of the End
It’s burning, everything is,
The land, the air, the water,
The trees, the animals, the people.
This scalding heat, the blinding glare
This burning searing sense of jealousy,
Of hatred, of fear.
These cries of agony, the funeral pyres
Burning, blistering, scorching.
Do you see that pile?
That’s all that remains,
A pile of ashes, the remains of
All that violence.
A baby Phoenix emerges now,
already crying tears for what will be a new dystopia.
She
Between her legs she holds a pot
The pot that brings to life
Upon her chest she holds to her breast
A baby she saves from strife.
Long hair she has that blows in the wind
Eyes that shine compassion
Ears that listen to every single cry
Lips that heal the ashen.
Strong mind has she that seldom breaks
Even in the worst of times
A heart of gold has she that forgives
All our unforgivable crimes.
The Bee
We have a little box that’s green
My mother, she brought it home.
Many a teeny tiny things
Go flying about on their own.
Sweeter than the honey you get from trees,
These things, they are our honey bees!
They buzz and buzz all day long
In rain, in the cold, in summer,
Tirelessly these workers, they work all day
If I were they, what a bummer!
Not boring are they like my old cat’s fleas,
Oh yes! They are our honey bees!
On days that are bright, with skies of blue
I could sit and watch these taxis all day.
From flower to flower they fly high above
If only for a picture my friends would stay.
I love my friends, who each day cease,
I love my friends, these sweet honey bees!
Summer
It’s that time of the year again
When the beads of sweat drip down
When uniforms are done away with
And you wake up with no frown.
There’s jackfruit before breakfast,
And mangoes after lunch,
You eat all meals on time,
And also gobble the brunch!
Your cousins share your bed,
Forever you wish they’d stay,
At night you count the shiny stars
Of lands so far away.
The time would always fly so fast,
You’d get sad, the new year’s toil
Until you smelled the lovely smell
Of rain on dry, red, soil.
Untitled
It’s funny how you always wish
The sun on your face, on your limbs
While cold draughts whip your pale white skin
You wish you hadn’t cursed the sun.
It’s funny how you never went
Visiting that old aunt you liked.
You said you’d see her after work
At morn your phone to a funeral bids.
It’s funny how you said you’d leave
For the freedom, the peace, the quiet
Now you’re all alone, teary faced
Wishing you were home, in your mum’s arms.
It’s funny how we think we know
What we want, what we deserve to have,
But the funny thing about life is
You’d always miss what once was.
The Love of the Moon
While I lay in the dirt, I saw her extended arm,
A pair of determined eyes, glinting, peering at I
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood;
they must love me.
They took me with them,
They consoled me, they healed me.
Where the yew trees blow like hydras,
The tree of life and the tree of life
Unloosing their moons, month after month, to no purpose.
The blood flood is the flood of love.
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
Or so I thought.
But there’s more to life,
If you look closely enough
Now I extend a hand
To others lying there.
Birds
I
See
Birds
Up, above,
A chevron, a
Pretty sight
Will I ever
Touch it,
the sky,
Will
I?
The Doll
Someone
Gave her to us
Pretty
as
She happens to be,
we don’t like her too much.
She moves even when
we don’t turn the key.
Mum refuses to give her away.
So one day we decided to throw her out.
It didn’t go well, she still watches
when in
the night
asleep we
both lay.
Untitled 2
Red, dry stretches, spread far and wide of land,
The soil lay with earnest glances above,
Like river over stone, my face, thy hand,
Rain drenches mud, laves pain away with love.
The winding wind through my hair, nature breathes,
"Like air, thou must breathe love, take in, release,
Give rest to mind, as the fire bequeaths,
In thee the want for sanity to cease."
Thus here I lay, watching thy angel face,
As sleep lulls thee into a near dead state,
The night lives on, stars shining in joint grace,
Sleep glides towards me, I wait and I wait.
The moon up there to whom I bade farewell,
Has lost her divine, chaste, strength to compel.