Friday, June 12, 2015

I write Poetry When It's Rainy. Bad Poetry.

It's Friday night. I have presently said no to two invitations and I did actually end up being busy till 8 p.m. So I don't feel so bad that I lied about being held up. It's been an exhausting month so far. Been thriving can't complain...This week's been a bit weird. Been bumping into little bits and pieces of my past and I've been so very confused. I started writing poetry. That'll happen, especially when you have facy stationary and everything. 

Here's reproducing them in no particular order: 

"If I were to disappear, 
Into a little blip..
Would the earth shatter, would it matter
To those doomed to keep at it? 

And clutch their heart while it beats. 
As it is condemned: to Pain, dear Pain 
Unforgiving, unrelenting. 
The rain pours down in sheets. 

If I were to disappear 
In the moment and never come back...
Would it matter? 
Change how the rest of it unfurled 
To unleash chaos on an unsuspecting house of cards? " 


"Gobsmacked is a funny word. 
Yet one must often find 
In narrow lanes and rain laced window panes
To be hit by occasions, unsuspectingly benign. 
Till one must step back, 
Take recourse to distance. 
Understand that it does not concern 
The idiot that lives under broken bridges of the past
And amid loves lost and gone asunder." 


"An unexpected burst of the city's weariness 
I flee from work with mom. She has also been given an early respite. 
We enjoy the rain. 
A slight feeling of guilt, 
Interrupted by the beauty of the city. 
Kolkata you are unbearably pretty. 
Tendrils of lightening tracing veins through 
The thunderous heartbeat of the sky.
Catch your breath and sigh
Miracles are on their way. " 

No comments:

Post a Comment