Posted in Epics, Poetry

Colours

Old pal,
I believe that you’re caught up in the greys of life,
So much that when black enters, it never feels out of the blue,
You seem to be aiming for white, which fades away too soon,
However, you fail to realise that even in blues,
There exist magnificent hues
Now what you need to do is view life as a blank page,
And then create an abstract image
But don’t settle for what’s made of wax,
Trust me, it’s a hoax in the form of a box,
Pick up the set of pastels instead,
And I guarantee-
There will be reds and carmine too,
There will be greens and jade too,
There will be yellows and ochre too,
You could be inclusive of orange and purple too,
And you may even find room for pink and brown too
Now, if you still choose to stick with monochrome
Then there is no hope for you
Recall how you art teacher would insist
On your filling in the white gaps as much as possible
And apply the same rule to your life
Only then will you truly appreciate the light
That falls in naturally.

~Poem 28
Don’t block your hope by romanticising dark hours
(Picture credits: Grant Haffner)
Posted in Epics, Poetry

Broken-heart surgery

To peel a broken heart,
You do not require a pair of sterile gloves,
But only a string of words,
Uttered without a second thought.

To feel a broken heart,
You do not require any special tool,
Glance at the victim in the eye,
And be on the lookout for the telltale spark.

To heal a broken heart,
You do not require another heart,
Wire your brain in such a manner,
That it always gains the upper hand.

To seal a broken heart,
You do not require a dozen stitches,
Just put on the suit of the Tin Man,
Without his bizarre wish of course.

~Poem 27
Your ideal broken heart
(Picture credits: Emma Parker)
Posted in Short Stories, Stories

Just once more (Part 2)

She opened the door with the most spectacular smile pasted on her lovely face. Her wet ringlets nuzzled her shoulders, while her body-con dress hugged her supple skin. She wrapped me in her embrace, letting her perfume spray onto my shirt. She then took my hand and ushered me into her house.
“Why don’t you freshen up while I prepare dinner? You probably had a long day!” She suggested while readjusting her place.
I responded with a smile and headed towards the washroom with my clothes. The tiring day was worth the soothing shower. It took me quite a while to realise that I was putting in extra efforts to groom my body.
The aroma of all my favourite dishes hit me as soon as I stepped out.
“Oh! That was quick. Come sit down. I will serve you.”
“Alright!”
She took the seat that was diagonal to me and then tried to engage me in small talk. She asked me about my day, the people I talked to and everything else she could think of.
Maybe she was just as nervous as I was. I dusted that thought at once and shifted my attention to the remaining portion on my plate.
‘Just one spoon left now. Then she’s all yours.’ The devil inside me was now lurking around. However, I managed to cover it with an overly sweet mask. I took charge of clearing the table and volunteered to help with the dishes as well.
Once everything was done, she suddenly got this urge to dance with me. I also gave into her odd request, owing to the fact that the music she had selected was pretty sensual.
‘Relax dude. You’ll get to lay your hands on her skin sooner this way,’ I assured myself while swaying her around the room. But amidst all of that movement, I found myself stuck there in the moment. I was enjoying it.
I let her spin again, but she didn’t return to me this time. Instead, she proceeded towards the bathroom, leaving me with wild guesses. Without giving it a second thought, I entered her bedroom and yanked my t-shirt.
I sprawled on her bed and awaited her presence next to me.
My waiting came to an abrupt halt as she climbed onto the bed and threw her arms around me.
But something felt odd. We weren’t skin to skin. Something was obstructing our friction.
It was her clothes- a loose t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants; to be more accurate. While I was trying to process the reason as to why she had her clothes on, she buried her face beside my chest. I couldn’t tame my heartbeats, but her eyelids managed to catch up to its rhythm as if it were some sort of lullaby.
Now we were just lying. Lying together. In total darkness, but with kindling souls. Perhaps only God knew the science behind our blaring yet resting bodies.
All I could comprehend was that my days would always end with wanting to sleep with her again. And again.

“And folks, that’s how she turned into my ex-girlfriend,” I concluded while raising a toast with one hand and claiming her with the other.

THE END

original
Ex-girlfriend
(Picture credits: Unknown; Source: We heart it)
Posted in Short Stories, Stories

Just once more (Part 1)

When it came to flirting with girls, I was never behind in the race. I would usually engage in healthy and casual chats. None of my previous girlfriends approved of this behaviour of mine and of course, it was reasonable from their perspective. It’s not like they were winter girlfriends to me. I pretty much felt that they would last. My intention was never to hurt them or appear disloyal, as I did put in efforts to maintain those relationships. However, all my attempts would go in vain. They all left me, but that didn’t put a stop to what I enjoyed doing. Not even when I met a gullible and feeble girl, who felt everything with depth, that the person in front of her would melt down completely. I was a somewhat exception to this aura of hers, and somewhere I felt that in the end, she would turn out to be another future ex-girlfriend of mine.
She was well acquainted with my playful nature and seldom complained about the same. From what I can recall, she did touch the topic once briefly, and after noticing that I brushed it off, she chose to stay quiet.
She had more or less realised that it was a part of who I was. We had lasted for about four years. But everything came to a stop when my folks felt that I should settle down, but not with that girl. It was her docile nature that was working against her.
I agreed to their wish, but what bothered me was breaking the news to her. Her heart was too delicate to listen to something of this sort. I loved her immensely, but I couldn’t put her above my family.
A week later I decided to update her with what was going on, on my side. She didn’t accept it at first, but when it finally sunk in her head, she started sobbing. I touched her shoulder as a gesture to pacify her, but she twitched, letting my hand hover in the air. After about five minutes of having a breakdown she wiped her face thoroughly and cleared her throat and proceeded to say something.
“Okay. I won’t force you to marry me, but can I ask one small thing from you?”
“Of course. What is it?” I replied with the most laid back tone.
“Umm, will you sleep with me just once?”
I was startled by her request, as it wasn’t something that she would want to get herself into. Maybe she just wasn’t in her senses due to my decision. So I decided to do a quick recheck.
“You mean like a one night stand?”
“Yeah.” She responded with an expressionless face.
I again asked her if she was sure, to which she simply nodded.
“Okay then. As you wish.”
We quickly planned out the day and timings and everything else that was required for us to be together for that one night. It was scheduled for the next evening at her place.
The day at the office seemed longer than usual, and when the clock finally struck 5, I didn’t waste even a second in any other errand. I grabbed my car keys, my laptop bag and another bag that contained the rest of my belongings while experiencing an adrenaline rush.
My heart resisted calming down even as I approached the porch. I rang the doorbell, and that alone was enough to increase my anxiousness.
The air felt scented; the sun smiled; the dried leaves added to the mysterious commotion- all in awe of her appearance.

<To be continued...>

couple and love image
Sleep with me
(Picture credits: Unknown; Source: We heart it)
Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry

Rose

What if I named you Rose,
Not a yellow or a peach rose,
But just a plain rose,

Would you quit behaving like a chameleon on the loose? 

What if I labelled you as Rose,
Not a wilted or a blooming rose,
But just a simple rose,

Would you let go of your habit of cherry-picking?

What if I called you Rose,
Not a summer or a winter rose,
But a good old rose,

You would still find a degree of comparison, wouldn’t you?

~Poem 24

large.jpg
Or am I making assumptions?
(Picture credits: Unknown; Source: We heart it)
Posted in Epics, Poetry

Make me cry

In a white flowy dress,
On an evergreen hilltop,
Under the lovely tree top,
And beside the spilling stream,
I look on, as nature absorbs my uneasiness.

However,

I feel too light and free,
Like a strand of bougainvillea flowers,
Peeking over the other side of the fence,
To observe the lotus all by itself,
And so, nature’s gloominess sinks in my mind.

Just then,

He turns up in his flannel shirt,
So warm and heavenly scented,
Its checks amount to the depth of his heart,
And its cuffs romance his wrists,
While his corduroy jeans trace the grass.

And suddenly,

My heart feels just about right,
As I find home, in his embrace,
Where I fit in, so snugly,
That my necklace hooks onto his buttons,
And his breaths sync with my grief.

So,

Please make me cry,
Be that typical society,
Be that ruthless critique,
As someone is glaring at you with disgust
Just for even considering my request.

~Poem 23

love, couple, and boy image
Pretty please? ❤
(Picture credits: Unknown; Source: We heart it)
Posted in Epics, Poetry

Escapism

Here in cityscapes
I just want the delicate breeze
To lend me a butterfly kiss
And carry away the gloom from the afternoon.

These cloudscapes are way too tempting

They make me want to float with them
But I am doomed with logic and limits
And left with mediocre alternatives.

Then I step into streetscapes

Out of my midday discomfort
I trace the graffiti and picturesque walls
Searching for signs of paradise, but I fail miserably.

I sprint across moonscapes

They aren’t appeasing, they don’t suffice
In letting me witness how a moonbow is casted
Or providing a guiding light towards home.

So I rely on dreamscapes

To dream within a dream may not be
A random act of escapism after all
At least I get to adjust what I envision.

~Poem 22

Midday gloom
(Picture credits: Solve Sundsbo)
Posted in Epics, Poetry

A phased out bond

Never did a man fancy
Ribbons or bows
Till a tiny tot
Tugged at his toes.

Promptly, but not intentionally
I snatched the place of his lady love-
And she was now bound to be on
Either side of my glove.

Everything he bought for her
Now came in a pair of two
But somehow the reverse
Was barely ever true.

It was never a matter of shame
To serve him by pulling out his socks
And he could be the one
To get me into frocks.

Our bond was a fresh example of faith
As when he would fling me up in the sky
Even a perfect couple remained curious
For when I would let out a cry.

As time flew by
Puberty struck me
Mild touches turned awkward
Not even with the exception of a bruised knee.

Tantrums no longer worked in my favour

Nor could I argue that red wasn’t close to pink
Instead he was ready with a cane
Somehow that was enough to loosen our link.

I met my love in my later years
But he couldn’t perceive my emotions
Instead he disapproved with a ridiculous explanation
And subsequently cited what I felt as notions.

He appeared to be friendly
Yet failed at being a friend
Because when I required support
He seemed preoccupied even on the weekend.

Gone were those days
Of not being tied down by restrictions
But now when he comes home late
My heart develops a series of intuitions.

His fragile arm sticks out
From his flannel shirt
Aimlessly flicking through channels
As I stretch my little skirt.

He passes the salad bowl
From across the table
And mashes up his food to
Cover his worry of my being stable.

~Poem 21

Some bonds are magical
(Picture credits: Unknown; Source: We heart it)
Posted in Epics, Poetry

U-turn

Thrice upon a time,
I chose the glossy finished wood
It seemed like a dime,
From where I stood.

An ounce of forgiveness,
Along with a downpour of the holy river
Has only caused me to be a mess
And a walking wound generator.

Even the banyan tree shakes its head,
And lowers its prop roots further
To say I don’t deserve even a death bed,
Let alone being pardoned by a mother.

Throughout the path,
I subconsciously got tangled in ivy
Assuming I wouldn’t require a calamine bath,
And brush everything off slyly.

Now I sit here by the lake,
All alone on a slimy wooden log
For my own goodness’ sake,
Passing the buck on the fog.

I can easily ask for a third second chance,
And after yet another repeated sigh
I will vow not to call it a happenstance,
But the real doubt is- Will I?

Oh! How foolish was I to think,
That because counting deeds is a sin
Draining my misdeeds in the sink,
Would mean they’d flow into the mouth of a bin.
_
A day will come when I will stop my search,
For a u-turn in a one way
But, my soul will continue to lurch,
As that day will be doomsday.
~Poem 20

Searching for a U-turn in a one way
(Picture credits: Unknown; Source: We heart it)
Posted in Epics, Poetry

Park bench sayings

Prologue
An evil eye spots them
It sees them canoodling
Its eyes bleed the colour of blood

And its face catches that of fungi.

Chapter 1

Back in the days,
When love wasn’t synonymous
With the act of treachery
Two lovebirds came and perched on my lap.

One was the girl next door

The other a charming lad
She would hesitate while lifting her lashes
While he couldn’t resist peeking from beneath.

With a little mischiefs here and there

They quarrelled for the space
That belonged right under the tree shade
Or the one far from the water spout.

Chapter 2

His excuse was to collect her tidbits
Hers was to take a stroll
Soon, they became frequent visitors
And I a constant medium for the same.

Out of all my guests

They happened to be my dearest
As I got to witness and devour
The purest emotion of all.

In order to serve them

With the best of my potential
I would fan myself diligently
When the rain showed no mercy on me.

Chapter 3
Once she was sobbing
Draining all of her energy
Just then he came along
And entwined his breaths with hers.

On the contrary,

She poked his wounds,
Even when they’d turned into scabs
For the scars still remained.

It was never to trigger him
Or fiddle with his emotions
But it was to make him feel;
Make him feel how it is to feel.

Chapter 4- Plot twist
Everything was going smoothly
And a lover’s tiff was usual
Until a garden wall full of creepers
Popped right out of the blue.

It was a third party

That couldn’t stand them as one
So it ignited a fire around the two
And pretended to be the extinguisher!

The plan worked accordingly
To what the extra human had in mind
And despite my sincere plea
They sought the path of destruction.

Chapter 5
Everything had changed
As their egos turned into a new sense organ
Thus, they could no longer see the tolerance
Between the butterflies and the bees.

Now when her tears were evident

He looked past it, and when he did showcase
A decent amount of concern
It came out a bit ruthlessly.

Whereas for me it was like losing a leg
And being in a perpetual state of disequilibrium
Where winters occurred 365 days a year
And the fate of a rusted swing.

Epilogue
They lived happily never after.

Alternate Ending

They returned one fine evening
To collect what they had misplaced,
In the first place-
Their unsaid oaths of love.

The End

~Poem 19

Sincerely, a park bench
(Picture credits: Unknown; Source: We heart it)