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.

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.

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.

Quick Reviews

Hey there :3 Yes, I know it’s been terribly long since I’ve posted anything…but, guess what? My college started. Woot woot. And it’s a really tight schedule, so you may have to get used to the really slow posts.

I thought I’d do a quick review thing for all of you. So in the past month, I’ve read: The Devil wears Prada, How to Fall in love, Diary of a young girl and Life of Pi. I’m also halfway through The girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The five people you meet in heaven. (I also finally caught up with The Hunger Games and the Divergent series. But I’m not reviewing that, it’s really too late.)

So maybe that’s not TOO many. But in the past month, I’ve also had one surgery, one trip to Goa, one trip to Mumbai and a lot of movie time. And college. Can’t forget college. ( Socializing, stalking yada yada yada). I’ve finished five seasons of How I met your Mother (yes, I’m aware the ending sucks) and three seasons of Dr.Who. That’s a well spent one month.

Quick reviews work like this. I review them based on rank. From most favorite, to least preferred.

RANK 1 GOES TO….*drumroll*

Life of Pi, by Yann Martel.

I’m sure a lot of you would have watched the movie. In reality, the movie is just a less-graphic, more toned down version of the book. Both are mind-blowing, they question religion, they question morals and values and imagination. It is beyond amazing, but it is DEFINITELY NOT FOR THE QUEASY.

Notice how I both, capitalized AND bolded that statement. I mean it. Unless you want to know exactly how a zebra looks with its limbs torn apart and head severed.

(PS it is that bad. I’m not exaggerating.)

But my god, I’ve not read such a fantastic book in a while. So go read it. It’s first on the list today.

Rank 2 goes to

Diary of a young girl (Anne Frank)

Okay so I’m really late in reading this, and yeah you can judge. But it’s a great book, appreciable in general. However, I did find The boy in the striped Pyjamas better. Anne Frank’s story, though, is a constant reminder of how human nature can be so destructive. It’s sad, really.

Rank 3 goes to

The Devil wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger

SEXY BOOOOOOOK. It’s a typical chick-lit novel, fun and a light read. Nothing too taxing on the head.

Rank 4 goes to

How to Fall in Love by Cecilia Ahern

I’m sorry, but I really didn’t like the book. It wasn’t much of anything, didn’t leave an impact either. It was okay, with a rather cliche story that reminded me of Bollywood’s Anjaana Anjaani. It was…eh…okay.

Books in line:

1) Finish 5 people you meet in heaven.

2) The Cuckoo’s Calling

3) Unaccustomed Earth

4) Silent House

5) Bridget Jones

6) A couple of David Baldacci

7) Sita

8) Be careful what you wish for

9) Half of a yellow sun.

Any previews for me ?

So there you have it. The quick reviews for this month. Stay tuned for more posts. (heheheh wuut.)

 

Eavesdropper: Prologue

Love is strange. That’s an accepted fact. It’s twisted and tangled into impossible knots. It’s the sun that shines bright in the day, and the stars that guide your path at night. It’s the heart that thunders in your chest, and it’s the butterflies that flutter in your stomach. It’s the dozen phone calls, and it’s the constant worrying and it’s the comfort and the fights and all the other million things that love encompasses.

Love has no boundaries, it’s limitless. Love is the simple four letter word that holds so much meaning and depth. It has every teenager day-dreaming about it, and every senile man reminiscing. It ties the memories with a satin thread; it binds people with spun silk.

Love is blind. It’s impaired, and it’s perfect at the same time. It’s beyond explanations. Love is a dream come true. It’s unexpected.

I know all this. I know and accept all this. In fact, I’ve experienced the weeping and the screaming and the late-night calling and the hand-holding and the hugs that sweep me off my feet, the whole package- really.

Which is why I’m telling you that this whole love business ? It’s overrated.