Experiments !

All the time.

little love note from a wall clock to a tube light

They want you when the sun it out,
but when I look at you it’s
as if you’re the only sun out there
If you say it once,
I will try to stop the time for you,
even though it would mean ruining myself,
I want you to be standing right there, all the time
Stand there, right there, where I can see you,
Do not flicker, I beg of you
that makes my heart sink into my stomach,
my hands shiver,
I lose track of time,
and I struggle to break free
from this vicious circle of day and night,
seconds after seconds slapping me on my face
hours after hours following the same pace.
Do not flicker,
They may find another you, and brighten their lives
for them it’ll be all the same, they wouldn’t even notice
But for me, time would stop right there.

Today, when I still have time,
I just wanted you to know,
I tick-tock you!

There are
letters,
words,
phrases,
paragraphs,
essays,
articles,
short stories,
long stories,
novels,
epics,

there are
commas,
brackets,
full stops.

And in between
there is,
what we call,
Life

The Perfect Love

Gaganpreet Singh Photography

I changed. 

I changed not just because I love you.

But also because I wanted you to love me.

And I changed.

I changed the way I slept like a free bird

with my arms spread on both sides like wings

as if I was going to take a flight in my dreams, 

and now I sleep all lady-like with my arms sometimes around you,

or around my own body for the fear of being judged 

for being too confident to be loved.

You wanted to pamper the vulnerable me, 

I became one for I wanted to be loved.

And I changed. 

I changed the way my hair would always be a messy bun, 

Now I arrange my tresses every time I step out to see you

for you wouldn't want to be around the mess that I was.
I make sure the bun was perfect and that I wouldn’t look like I
a teen that just got out of the bed
you wanted me to be a lady, and I became one.   

I changed. 

I changed the way I'd spend lazy weekends on my bed

emptying tea mugs, reading books, and scribbling my heart out on papers
and occasionally on walls or canvases.

I now have a razor in my hand and an epilator in the other

because last time you touched me,

and murmured into my ears that my arm feels like that of a man's arm. I

dug my head into the pillow and sobbed but

then I thought it was normal of you to be asking for a chiseled skin,

the way I ask for a little stubble on your face, sometimes, may be? or may be not.
I changed.

I changed the way I’d talk in public.
My voice became softer and I almost stopped
laughing my heart out because that’s what teens do,
I was becoming a woman and women behave well in public,
they look interested even if they aren't, and 

they indulge in meaningful conversations, 

I changed a bit every day,

the voice, the hair, the sleep, my friends,

the songs I heard, the films I watched 

and all my pass-times,
I altered them.
I changed to fit into your image of perfect love

I’ve become someone I’d never known before.

am I, now, your perfect love?

home

#Littlelovenotes

We were like two birds that were brought together by rain. Tired of flying, we sat on a branch. We sang love songs. It was a different kind of love. We loved saying lovely things to each other. We also loved doing lovely things to each other. And it was just that. Time passed. Another rain came, and we left the branch for another shelter, elsewhere. Some more time passed. We soon came back to the old branch. We exchanged smiles, and ignored the change in them. Tired of the language, and the cycle of communication and miscommunication, we preferred keeping silent. We fell out of love and it was a different kind of ‘falling out of love’. We decided to stay on the same branch and sing the same old love songs. We were, however, scared of saying lovely things to each other, and we feared more than ever, doing lovely things to each other. 

Lost II

Hold hands?
no leave the hand,
because holding hands
suffocates,
I lose track of the road
and I am forced to
walk on the one
you take me to
Don’t ask me for the last ride together
I won’t hold hands

Kiss?
No I won’t kiss
Kissing suffocates
I lose track of
time and space
and enter into a world that
doesn’t exist
don’t make me immortal with a kiss
I won’t kiss

Think?
No I won’t think,
thinking maddens,
it hampers and destroys the beauty
of the unknown
it kills the essence
of the surprise.
I can’t think now
I will think about it tomorrow.

Fly?
Yes I will fly,
fly to a different land
because flying liberates
I will fly from the known to the unknown
I’ll stick around for some time
only to take another flight
I will fly.

Lost

I am lost
Lost the way,
We're lost between
faces known and unknown
I smile, I cry, I shout, 
No one hears
I can't hear myself either.
Eyes up, eyes down, eyes rolling, eyes blurred
I see many
But I don't really see any
I am lost
Lost the way you're lost in a web of thoughts,
thoughts about the past, present and the future,
thoughts about the thoughts that I thought were long forgotten
thoughts about what is thought, who thinks, and why
Long thoughts, and short thoughts
thoughts that matter,
and the ones that don't matter,
shouldn't matter,
I am lost in what you conceive of me, and what I am, and what you've made of me

I am lost.
Lost the way you're lost in middle of a conversation
conversations that are cut short
and the ones that don't end
conversations that are all the same
since ages
conversations that do not have beginnings, middles or ends
conversations that lead nowhere,

I am lost
Lost the way you're lost in a moment,
a moment that is a mis of several other moments
a moment that may or may not lead to another moment
a moment that is just another moment
a moment that promises but doesn't return as much
I am lost.

I am lost but wait for me,
Wait the way you wait for a kid that forgets the way to home.
Wait, the way you wait for a letter,
that has long been sent through the post
Wait, and just wait.
I'll be home soon.

breakfree

I create, re-create, destroy
ideas in my mind.
You existed
and you exist no more

#Littlelovenotes

Sometimes with sleepy eyes, 
other times, in sleeplessness
thinking of you,
I try,
not to think of you.

#Littlelovenotes

It was one of their late night conversations and she playfully asked him, 
"do you miss me?" 
He reverted in his usual calm, 
"Do you miss the night when it's day?
Do you miss sunshine when there's none?
Well then let me put it this way,
That within us we're always one"

Poetry Trails: #2 Then and Now

Poetry Trails is a “collective poetry movement” that I and a dear friend started a week back. It’s all about taking a poem forward or simply starting a new one with a similar theme, that is in some way related to the original one. In other words, if I write something, the other person can either continue with the same poem or write a quick response to it, or he/she can even give it an all new context and perspective. 

So last week, Sneha* updated Stars and I written by both of us, on her blog. And this week it’s my turn. If the poem moves anything inside you and gives you a motivation to add, invent, or experiment, go ahead and put it in the comments section. We’ll then add it to the original post. ;)

As of now, it’s I and Sneha. We don’t really need to know who wrote what, do we? ;-) 

That blank paper stares at me from a distance

With a pen in hand, I try to form the words

I still remember how easy it was once,

when I would write prose,

for you, for us,

I still remember how lovingly you'd read through

each line holding my hands tight giving a peck on my cheeks

We'd read all day long forgetting the time

absorbed in my words we'd dose off heads on shoulders..

But now…

the muse seems to have disappeared,

I don’t blame you for anything,

It’s not you, it’s actually us,
we’re forgetting something, I guess.

May be, just may be.

We’re forgetting to touch?

I think that’s what triggered the muse for me.
Remember the very first time

I cooked a meal for you,
I was all sweaty in the kitchen,

and you just stood by my side,

Occasionally tucking the strand of a stray lock behind my ear

and telling me stories,

I wrote about us that night,

and you spent the whole night reading and re-reading it,
Back then we were a different us

*Sneha is a super active fellow blogger who's blog you must check-out because she writes on a variety of topics. Check-out Indelible Musings. You must get familiar with her blog because the next Poetry Trail will be published there!

Why dating a poet might change your life.

I have read a lot of posts on this topic. I am definitely inspired enough to share some of my own thoughts.

You’ll live forever. They will write beautiful things about you and you’ll forever be safe in the pages  of their notebook.

They prettify the ordinary. They’ll make you feel loved in their own poetic way. They’ll have quotes handy to slip inside your door during hard times. They’ll have ready-made poems to lift your spirits when it is much required.

  

 You’ll never have problems with them for not being expressive. You’ll see them pouring their hearts out in everything they write.  They’d always have many things to write about. They’d believe in talking things out because that ways they’d feel lighter.      

 Apologies of a poet are something to believe in. When they’re sorry, they’ll show you that they mean it.

Deciding a gift would never be a problem. Buy them a postcard, a diary or a pen for their birthday, and they’re all yours. No need to empty your pockets to impress them, just write them a few original lines, and that’s their best birthday gift.

 With a poet you’ll never have issues about space. They know what it means to be giving space. They’ll respect your need for solitude without making it look abnormal.

 All your memorable occasions would always be safe in their diaries in the form of beautiful poetry. Your first kiss, the first time you made love, your fights and even the little-nothings— everything will find a space in their diaries.

Poets are simple people and finding a dating place for them is no headache. Take them near the mountains, river, a bookstore or simply sip a nice tea with them. They are happy.

Poets have an opinion about everything, so you don’t have to worry about starting a conversation with a poet. They’ll either start their own, or take yours’ forward with great ease.

Poets are easy-to-understand, uncomplicated beings. They are what they write.

 Poets are obsessed with revolutions and they believe in changing the world in their own little ways.They’ll always make you realize the importance of little pleasures in life. 

They’d use the word, ‘Sublime’, for almost every emotion they’re unable to put into words. But most of the time, they'd invent words.

 Most important of all, a poet will fill your world with love, life, inspirations, hopes, colors, drama, and all things human. They’ll make you believe that life is indeed a series of poetry. 

Feel free to share your thoughts :)

It's time that I let you go

Last night when you were sleeping by my side

and you kissed me goodnight

curling your arm around me,

I wanted to whisper it into your ears,

then and there,

but then I know that you live for moments,

and I didn’t want to spoil it for you,

so I’d let you love me

for some more time.

I wanted to tell you

that you don’t need me

and it’s time that I let you go.

I am sorry that I came to a realization,

that I was the one who cared too much

because I always believed that the world needs

more people who care much

and people who give a shit

and people that stick around

even when it’s like walking against the wind and

getting knocked down every time you proceed

But I did it all out of passion,

and out of the trueness that I once,

saw in your eyes

I am sorry but I don’t see the trueness in your eyes

anymore

You really don’t need me,

and it’s time that I let you go.

I am sorry but I am going to take some

part of you with me,

the true one,

the one, that you revealed to me,

the night we spent on phone,

you counted the stars in your city and

I told you about the morning sun in mine.

and that one too

which once told me,

that I was special, and made me believe it.

I congratulate you on the change,

and so, you really don’t need me

and it’s time that I let you go.

I subtly resign to my downfall,

to all that I couldn’t bring back

despite all my efforts.

I hope, I dearly hope, that life is kind on you,

for I won’t be there to kiss you when it isn’t.

for I really won’t be there to do that extra bit

when everything else would seem to be falling apart,

I won’t be there to prepare you the morning tea,

and to ask you if you had a great dinner

I won’t be there to lend you my ears

when the world disappoints you,

and I, sure as hell won’t be there

to celebrate your happiness

This is me,

letting you know,

that I am leaving.

I am finally releasing my grip

This is my departure, my disinclination, 

my heartache, and my final word to you

to you,

my dear, you don’t need me anymore,

and it’s time that I let you go. 

2 a.m in the morning. In my room (lycée Romain Roland)

Perdu

These roads hint towards something,
that there lies a place
they ultimately connect to,
And I see a lot of cars
trying to find the right direction
they take turns, and then U-turns, they stop and re start; and repeat it all over again
See,
I am not the only one Lost.

Ivry Sur Seine, Bus stop

Little Love Notes #9

And then I saw this lost child,

trying to find his own way

into the wild

he smiled at me,

and I smiled back,

he waved at me,

and I waved back

He talked to me

and I talked back

I gave him my finger,

He clutched it tight

He looked at me

with eyes, expectant and bright

We soon decided to go on a ride,

He trembled seeing me by his side

Hand in hand we started walking,

more than anything,

he was fond of talking

he needed a patient ear

to share his dreams and dump his fears

His eyes were honest,

and heart that believed in the best,

he would sing songs,

and easily forget the wrongs

I wanted to make to him,

promises many,

I chose however,

not to vocalize any

questions, we chose not to ask,

looking for answers,

seemed like a task

I believed he understood

all that I meant,

I didn’t know much about the future then,

so I happily gave him my present.

Paris, France

Little Love Notes #6

"I love you," said he. 

"I am scared," responded she with her fingers still entangled in his curly hair, and eyes fixed into his coffee eyes. 

"I doubt if I'd ever be able to love someone this much." 

"I will make sure, you won't have to," he said with his usual calm.

Dreaming

For the past six months, I have been dreaming. 
Because it could only be in dreams
that you meet such beautiful people, 
and share unbelievably lovely moments, 
almost every day. 

For the past six months, I have been dreaming.

Sleepless Saturday #6

Eyes at the computer screen
and ears listening to commands
tongue tied with a pay-cheque
and legs not wanting to move

That's what they call office.