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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A question filled with wonder

Have you ever seen a pattern woven so

delicately, the criss-crossing strands of emotions,

the overlapping of bodies draped across one another, the

kissing of fates, the magic of the intertwined,

the intimacy of words, the intricacy of life?

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.

Updates

Hello!

A couple of happy news :3

I got featured on Writer’s Asylum a while back!

http://www.writersasylum.in/?s=Meenakshi+Shivram

(Please do ‘like’ the story and the poem, hehe)

One of my poem’s also got featured here:

https://lifeofmon.wordpress.com/2015/12/04/friday-reading-love-6/

Love,

M

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.

Periwinkles

she smells of sunshine and homemade pie,

periwinkle gardens and wrinkled skin,

winter fires and strangers’ lullabies,

barbie bandaids and hidden tears,

whispered kisses and sacrificed years,

she smells of

unconditional

love,

she smells of home.

 

 

Autumn sunrise

 

the two boys held hands,

 

their backs pressed against

the scratchy grass,

their eyes fixed at

their starry hearts,

their lips parted with

the words unspoken,

 

young lovers

and the brink of  an autumn sunrise.

 

 

 

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.

Dream-catcher

AN: Dismal day today. Current mood can be captured by A Fine Frenzy’s ‘Goodbye my Almost Lover’.

The dream-catcher came in a little

blue box with silk wrapping

and a satin ribbon, my fingers

gently

clasping the little

strings of hope

woven together

in a cacophony of connections

and I hid it under my pillow

as I closed my eyes,

hoping,

that this time

when your dimpled smile and

shaggy hair starred in my dreams,

it may do what I

could not

–

catch

you.

You

I choose

you

you with the smile like warm butter on toast

you with the eyes like a time machine

you with the hands like fluttering butterflies

you with the words like soothing balm

you with the voice like satin ribbons

you with the heart like an iron wall

you

always

unfortunately

you.

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.

Kaleidoscope

Queen

We’re all queens. (And Kings.) Please remember that 🙂

Queen.

My chin trembles a little but I hold it higher still
My smile is stuck forever, I’ve swallowed a happy pill.
The fingers they point at me blur into the distance
and the butterflies in my tummy run and prance
For i’m happy and i’m sad
and i’m moody and i’m mad
and i’m in love and I hold grudges
and it’s me who jumps and trudges
and I twirl and I fly
as I take off into the sky
and when I finally land
feet sinking into the sand
I look around and notice
everything that I’d never miss.
I’ve learnt that I’d be my only constant
Everybody else came and went.
And So i began to love my own ways
I sit joyful in my own happy place.
Soon, the accusing eyes begin to turn away
And I spiral into my bubble of bliss, hey!
Look, My gown swishes against the floor
and the doorman grandly opens the door
And I’ve wiped away all traces of a frown
Because I’m wearing my invisible crown.

Whispered words

I’d grown up

in the lap of society

She sang me lullabies

I gurgled with glee.

She whispered in my ear

to keep my words to myself.

‘No one should hear you.’

And so I did as instructed

I stifled my voice deep inside.

For so long, in fact,

that I forgot the very sound of it.

Nay,

I forgot its existence.

‘Dear, is this okay?’

They’d ask me.

And I’d nod dumbly along.

‘Shall I do this?’

They’d ask me.

I’d shake my head vehemently,

but their backs were turned to me.

They couldn’t see me,

And they couldn’t hear me.

But I heard them.

I heard the people begging mercy

I heard the click of the shackles on bony hands

And I reached out to them.

Alas, my hands weren’t long enough.

I cried out, ‘Stop this horror.’

But cold air blew out my mouth.

And so

desperate

I tugged at my ears

I clawed at them

I ripped those bloody things away

So I stopped hearing

and pretended that was the solution

the right solution

and the blood continued to flow.

from me

around me

As I closed my eyes and slept peacefully.

I owe you guys a million apologies. My Wifi hasn’t been working for the past couple days, and hence there was no book challenge updates. I shall continue it today evening. PROMISE OKAY.

Haiku

Haiku is a form of Japanese poetry that has inspired me of late. Traditionally, it has 5 syllables in the first phrase, 7 in the next and the third phrase has 5 again.

So, I’ve written a lot of Haikus lately. Here are some of them:

 

Love,

Meenakshi.

PS: I’m sorry it’s not too great, I’m just a beginner.

Princess

 

Apparently I’m into writing short burst of meaningful poetry these days. This one I wrote was originally meant as a haiku, but I modified it into…um, nothing in particular except a short poem. The meaning stuck, and so I present to you: Princess.

 

Guardian Angel

This poem is dedicated to all those people in my life who have seen me through my worst. We’ve all pounced on the idea of a guardian angel, the savior in disguise. And mostly, it’s this guardian angel we take for granted. Often, when we finally get happiness, we tend to forget those who were there for us during our times of despair. It’s sad that we do that, but it’s the truth. So, here is a thank-you to those people in my life who have heard my wails and sacrificed shoulders and offered to punch (twice) the people who hurt me. Divya, Akansha, Swathi, Tushar, Chinmay, Joby, Tridha, Prerona, Bharath…these are some people I’ve poured my hearts to. They never flinched. THEY were (correction, are) my guardian angels, my rocks, my anchors, my friends. Thank you.

I cry in the darkness,

you lean towards me.

Hold my hand in yours,

Whisper silently.

Your wings cover my body,

as it wrecks with sorrow

and your soothing words

make me hope for a tomorrow

Because the night seems so endless

but you assure me it will cease

Because I can’t wait for the sun

to bring me some peace.

You stand by me,

as time passes by.

You soothe me when I scream,

You calm me when I cry.

After forever, I look out the window

and start to dance in the sunny weather

but when I look back you’re gone,

and clutched in my palm,

lies only a feather.

-Meenakshi