A Cure for Broken Shoulders

When the rain gravitates towards you

be still, my dear.

Be still and let it touch you

like a lover’s breath on broken shoulders.

 

It sings quite softly, my dear,

but when it does, I swear to you,

the world stops spinning to

let the stars sing along.

 

You’ll feel the tune escape your lips

and your soul will dance in bliss,

Be still, my dear, and let the lover’s

breath write stories of magic on your skin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mulberry Wings

I would give you a long explanation over why I wrote this poem, but it is unnecessary. Just look at it as an expression of anger against all forms of rape and abuse that exist. 

 

The first time i knew the meaning of consolation

was a breath of warm air into my ear,

air that smelled faintly of humour-laced

words and cigarettes, telling me

‘Shhh, you’ll be fine now.’

And I remember looking at his dark

brown eyes and the pockmarks

on his skin as he said this, and the bruise on

my knee stopped throbbing quite as much.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” I said

as he smiled back at me.

They say how an adult reacts to a situation

has a psychological impact on the child’s

reactions, but those are big words, and I

was but a small child,

and those words to me had nothing to do

with logic

and everything to do with magic.

 

 

 

Years later, I stand in front of the full length mirror,

like a broken sparrow with mulberry wings

and haunted eyes,

and I try to form the same words

but choke up mid-way,

as I see his form approaching,

once so familiar,

now so strange,

as I see his hands reach for me

I realised what words I

once thought were magic

in the way they healed me

were the words that had broken

me in the first place:

he whispers into my ear,

‘Shhh, you’ll be fine now.’

 

 

 

Clay

you impressed me

you were impressed upon me
the faint dent of your lips on the edge of my throat
the hollow of bright red fingers on my fading wrists
the stamp of words whispered against my hair
the print of heel warm on my knobbly knee
the dip of your elbows against my ribs
i was clay for you, dear potter
and i gave you all,
all that you chose to make
a shattered vase.

Hiraeth

I plunge my fingers into the ocean

we call the sky and sift through the dreamy

translucent layers that are wings of

a broken butterfly hunched over

with sunlight streaming  and i

play with the wispy clouds

like puffs from a fine cigar and

watch as the birds stretch their wings

to feel the wind bite into their

throats one last time and the ball of fire

that is saying goodbye drenches my nails

in liquid colours until they become

fire themselves

and one by one the stars appear

like a glimpse of a past long forgotten

guided by the imposter that brightens

the inky black of the nights

and my hands submerge into the sky

that swaddles its baby like a warm

blanket spotted with patches of

swirls and a bosom

of motherly affection,

the infinite that keeps us in place.

 

 

Hold my hand, dear, and say it’ll be okay.

i held a fist of sand as i once

held your fist

and watched as the grains

slipped away

like smooth fingers sliding

out of a warm

grasp

and the hollow air that

remained

was a reminder

of you blowing

whispered promises

into my ear

and my red palms

stayed permanently blushing

from the absence of the sand

and

the absence of you.

Rainbows

our spare room used to have blue sheer curtains

that shielded us from the rest of the world until we

realised that we didn’t want to hide anymore

and now we have no curtains just holes in the walls

called windows and it’s the best decision we ever made

because every morning the room gets flooded

with the richest shade of golden and then we watch

as clocks become obsolete and time is measured by

the mulberry hues that turn crimson and the twinkling

starlight that filters the darkness and as vanilla

and violets alternate to dance into our room

our bodies feel like art

and

our souls feel like rainbows.

Elementary Death.

You can die a thousand ways,

but none as beautiful

and devastating

as in

the hands of the elements-

raw, untamed, merciless.

 

You can die in the lap of fire,

the flames licking every crevice

of your body, taming the curve

of your hip and

your dusty lips.

 

You can melt into lava.

 

You can die in the hands of water,

the waves crashing against you

in fury,

sculpting the stone that is you,

into a

tomb, for what will be.

 

You can dissolve into the ocean.

 

You can die at the mercy of air,

the irony settling in

sweetly

as the life-giver,

slowly sucks the

life out of you.

 

You can steal wings from the storm.

 

You can die if the earth chooses to,

as the green turns into grey,

and the ground rumbles

till there’s nothing

left to shake.

 

You can fall into the earth.

 

You can die when the spirit leaves you,

when the emptiness inside

spreads

like a famine,

and captures

your entirety.

 

You can merge into the infinite.

 

Thank-You

Hey guys!

I just got around to checking out my stats today and it turns out that over the past 3 weeks alone, I’ve got nearly 200 likes (?????!!!!) and hundreds of views and tons of warm, encouraging comments, and I cannot tell you how much that means to me. ( A LOT A LOT A LOT )

Unfortunately, I’ve had to delete a couple of posts for personal reasons (sounds ominous but it really isn’t), but I will get around to writing and putting up more poetry soon!

Once again, thank you all so much for reading x

Lots of love

First Draft

I tried to write
poetry
for you.

But I cant find

a suitable metaphor.

You see,

You aren’t my Sun,
even though you fill every
pore of my body with your
everlasting warmth
even if
you set the linings
of
my belly
on fire.

You aren’t my Moon, either,
even though I’d be
left stumbling in the blindness
if not for your gentle
guidance
even if the
tides of my heart
are controlled
by you.

And neither are you the Stars,
even though
you take my breath away
when you’re
in your glory,
even if
every time I look at you,
I keep finding
more of you.

Sweet boy,

if anything,

you’re the whole damn sky.

You’re the infinity that
controls my
nights
and my
days
You’re the comfort that
wraps my entire
world

and what is
the sun
and the moon
and the stars
when compared to
the
entire heaven ?

I cannot write

enough

poetry about you,

but call this a

first draft

if you will.

Future

There is wind,

but there are no trees left to sway.

There is water,

but there is no thirst left to quench.

There is music,

but there is no soul left to hear.

There is love,

but there is no heart left to feel.

——–

There is life,

but there is nothing left to live for.

Yesterday, I learnt.

I went on a road trip yesterday. I left early, when the sun was still on it’s upward journey, and like a dog I had my head out the window (I’d called shotgun) feeling the morning sunshine and bliss. I’ve always loved road trips because with the wind against my face, and my eyes on the sky, my brain always seems to go on overdrive.

Yesterday, I went on a road trip and I thought about you. I imagined a parallel universe where you and I had worked out. I imagined intertwined hands, selecting the best peaches and apricots from the bazaar sometime in the future. I imagined baking desert in the kitchen together, with flour on our faces and smiles in our eyes. I realised how the whole ‘Great Future Dream’ seemed shit without you in it, that the whole point of the ‘dream’ of our future was you, you, you. Just you. I thought about an alternate reality, where you and I were (as they say today) endgame. Where we had worked out.

Yesterday, I went on a road trip and it hurt to think. It hurt to think of “what could have been” and put it side by side with “what actually is” and see the harsh comparison and play Spot the Difference. The difference is the gaping hole in my heart, and the absence of a certain someone.

Yesterday, I went on a road trip and I let go. I accepted that my heart would never completely bounce back from all it has endured, but I suppose nobody does have a healthy heart in this world and scars and bandages are what make you normal. I accepted that I would never have you, and that’s okay, because I’d have someone else. Who wouldn’t be quite you, but he’d be enough.

Yesterday, I went on a road trip, and I healed.

Feathers

I was waiting for the bus, one day,

when I overheard

a conversation.

There were two speakers.

The first was a boy with

stars in his eyes,

and the second was

a girl

with wind on her lips.

Schoolbags hung

heavy from their wispy shoulders,

but the weight didn’t bother them.

Their hands were entwined,

in the shy gentle way of love

fresh from the oven,

and their voices

were whispered feathers.

I caught one of those

in my palm,

and listened to what it said.

“Where’s home?” the boy

asked,

his voice raspy

and she replied,

“Down the street.”

“Who’s in it?

he asked again,

eager to know

everything,

and she said,

“My parents and Toby.

My mom would be sitting on our

ancient sofa, in her checkerprint

apron reading a magazine.

Dad would have gone to work

in his tweed jacket

his watch wound 5 minutes earlier

to ensure he

was never late.

Toby would be running

around the house

in a flash of gold,

and waiting until I came home.”

She asked him the same.

His eyes hazed,

“My Gran. She has

the wrinkliest face

and makes the best

pie in the world.”

They laughed together,

in their own bubble,

and I

thought

that if someone were to ask me

who was home

they’d get the most

dismal response in

blue curtains

a

broken television

and the

ghost of you.

Red-Skinned

I’ve been writing too many poems with a darker side off late, and I know there’s more to come so here’s a bit of fluff to break the monotony. This is a simple poem to all those girls/boys who have a crush on someone and can’t tell them. It’s infuriating, no?

I can feel the butterflies

playing catch in my belly

I know it’s time

I have to tell you

It’s now or never

My blush has become

a

permanent feature

by now-

I bet you think that

I was born red-skinned

better for you to think that

than know the reason is you

(always, infuriatingly you)

you and your eyes

that

shine the clearest turquoise

images of

you and your large palms

cupping the side

of my red-skinned face

you and your lanky gait

lazily crossing the room

like you

own the world

you and your dimpled smile-

the crowning glory

like the applause at

the end of a play

my fingers clutch the edge of my yellow

skirt

i know you like yellow, you

had told me once

I spot you, leaning against

the wall ahead

the cigarette dangling at the edge

of your chapped lips

you see me walking to you

your raise your eyebrows in greeting

my heart stops

I stutter a hello

and keep moving forward

not daring to look back at your

questioning eyes

I simply cannot confess

I have lost my nerve

and my wit

and my ability to speak,

thanks to

a young boy

with the ocean in his eyes

and death on his lips.

Iridescent

I’ve always been

white light

as far

back as I recollect

pure

&

drab

then you came

dark swirls

of

lust

over my limbs

knotted

legs and

scratched

backs

peppered kisses

&

stolen glances

heart raced faster

adrenaline

coursed

through veins

they tried

to

tell me

“It’s all wrong;

white is white

black is black

and that

would

never change”

but

you see,

that is the problem (in its entirety)

when I’m

with you

I don’t exist

you don’t exist

I’m not white

you’re not black

we

remain,

together,

iridescent.

Frayed

“I’d like some rope please.”

“I’ll fetch it for you, beta, just a moment.”

“Won’t you hurry, sir? I’m in a bit of a rush.”

“I’m getting them, just wait.”

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

“That’d be 500 rupees.”

“500?! But that’s too much.”

“It’s the finest quality, beta. It

will help you well.”

“Alright.”

“I’d like some sheets of paper please.”

“Ruled or Un-ruled, beta?”

“Un-ruled.”

“How many?”

“Five. I’d also like five envelopes, and a blue pen.”

“That’d be 100 rupees.”

“100?! But that’s too much.”

“It’s the finest quality, beta. It

will help you well.”

“Alright.”

“I’d like to purchase that stool, please.”

“This one, beta?”

“Yes, that very one.”

“We have different colours also, and dif-“

“No, I want this very one.”

“That’ll be 600 rupees.”

“600?! But that’s too much.”

“It’s the finest quality, beta. It

will help you well.”

“Alright.”

He trodded

down the narrow gravel path

his

head spinning

slightly

his hands burnt

around the edges

practising

knots

His empty

apartment

said hello

he nodded back and

said goodbye

went to the room

wrote the letters

tied the rope

and hung

himself

all the while thinking

that the cost

of his

life

had been 1200 rupees.

Very Inspiring Blogger Award

It took me a while to get around to accepting this award. I’ve been busy with my exams and a while ago my blog went bam, and hence the delay. Anyhow now that I have gotten around to it, lets not waste any time talking about delays and other boring stuff. I was awarded this beautiful award by:

http://siciliangodmother.wordpress.com

This Sicilian God Mother makes me laugh. Like, actual burst-out laughing. Her sense of humor and timing is damn near perfect. I’m sure you must have already seen her blog, but if you haven’t WHAAAAT ARE YOUU MAN?! No, kidding, Go see it asap. She’s amazing and sweet and funny and has this fantastic writing style.

Oh, don’t you want to see how this award looks?

very-inspiring-blogger-award-2 very-inspiring-blogger-award

TADAAAAA. *woot woot*

I am honored to receive this, and to have been an inspiration to anyone is truly an amazing thing for me.

Some things you might (or might not) want to know about me:

1) I love teddy bears. Yes, I’m 17 year old, and a self confessed soft toy freak.

2) I just attended my Business Boards practicals an hour ago. ( Hence the utter lack of any creativity)

3) Uh, I used to love smiley faces. And then, after chatting with a friend who abhors smiley faces for a couple months, I’ve literally stopped their usage.

4) I once got a dream that Richard Castle was at my school, and my principal ordered him to go marry Kate Beckett. Much to my joy.

5) I have weird nicknames for almost EVERYONE. My friends and I almost speak in a language of our own. The nicknames range from Mr.Rainbow to Potato.

Hehe, after that utterly weird five facts, let’s move on to my nominations.

I HAVE NOMINATED FIVE TERRIFIC BLOGS FOR THIS: ( So do go check them out !)

1) http://nutie.wordpress.com

This is an amazing fashion blog, something I stumbled upon quite recently. A definite must see.

2) http://bigbodybeautiful.wordpress.com

OH MY GOD. I nearly cried at the mustache post she posted ! This blog is damn good, and recently featured on Freshly Pressed! (congrats on that, by the way!) Amazing amazing amazing.

3) http://konnikim.wordpress.com

Really awesome sketches and designs ! This blog is something nice and different ! I love it !

4) http://musewriter.wordpress.com

I always love a well-written post, and here, ALL THE POSTS ARE WELL-WRITTEN. Little wonder then that I almost stalk this blog.

AND NO.5) http://poemsoftheinnerspark.wordpress.com

Poetry to the soul is FOUND HERE. AHOY. AHOY. COME CHECK THEES AWESOMENESS OUT, MATEY. Beautiful, soul-stirring words. 🙂

Well, that’s all I have the time for right now, but thank you so much for this award ! And kudos to who I nominated. You guys deserve them 😀