She was anything but the quintessence of her gender
Her radical thoughts made her a formidable contender
Her opinions she could not secrete
Her actions never discreet
No wonder, they called her the fender-bender.
Month: Sep 2018
I am no Atlas
I may seem self sufficient
I may look strong
I may multi – task
I may work hard and long
But I do get tired
My poor feet hurt too
Sometimes it’s difficult
Most times I have no clue
Yet I plod on doggedly
Though I may be hurting inside
I try to be outrageous
But I am a bewildered child
You may find me cheap
So I lock away all feelings
Because I so want this world to think
I am so, so stunning
And then one day realisation dawns
I may try my best to please all
My every step is noted
Everyone’s waiting for my fall
This enrages me so much
That I refuse to break
I decide to live my life
As I envisage
No more toeing lines
No more capitulation
If I can’t live on my terms
You can hug your damnation
Now you may think of me
As a case gone all wrong
I do things on my terms
For this alone I was born
Don’t burden me with social mores
And unrealistic expectations
I am a wild, wildflower
Not greenhouse carnation
I can survive in this big, bad world
Without your advice though
Yes, I am fragile yet tensile
But I am no Atlas, you know!
Post War
All’s quiet on the front
As he lay in the trench
All dusty and muddy
Watching the dying embers of the sun
His crackling radio comes to life
Informing a truce has been declared
With a whoop of joy and
A jaunty toss of his head
He springs up to reach the base.
He knows there will be an epistle waiting for him
As he reads it over and over again
He can see her typing feverishly
On her old rickety typewriter
Crafting her epistle with the beats of her heart
Her dark eyes glittering with unshed tears
And he knows that all this while she was
Wondering what justice is served
By any war?
Refereeing
They look at each other
with all the venom they can summon
hurling accusations like torpedoes
I warily look up from my book
loath to leave my hero mid action
wondering if intervention is required
as the fracas seem similar to yesterday’s
they leave the room arguing
usually these bitter feelings are ephemeral
my book beckons and I am engrossed again
the decibles go up suddenly
a door slams, a chair scrapes
and just as my hero is about to
discover the murder weapon
I hear a loud wail
I jump out of my skin
angrily I barge into their room
it is a free for all nite
they are punching, kicking
pulling hair and biting
screaming at the top of their voices
both not ready to back down
my loud bark is ineffective
I have to physically wrest them apart
panting heavily they direct their angst at me
accusing me of being biased
suddenly I become the villain of the piece
reasoning loses its reason
they are in no mood to reconcile
the younger one tearfully blaming
me for siding with the elder
the elder one sullenly says
I am always soft with the younger
exasperated I send them to separate rooms
the referee retiring hurt to her sanctum
no longer interested in her fictional hero
as I sit there ruminating
where I had gone wrong in parenting
I hear soft whispers
I tiptoe out of my room
they are together in their room suppressing giggles
with a deep sigh of relief
I put the kettle on
time for me to go back to my hero.
Critical Romance (revisited)
(The first line of this poem is critical and the second romantic.)
I curse the day I said yes to you,
Why couldn’t it have been sooner my beau!
Your mom and sis are imports from hell
If hell is here, heaven should be here as well!
I am sick and tired of your defiance
Honey, what would I be without this alliance!
How do you think we will manage with your income meagre
My love, to sacrifice for you I am always eager!
Your hirsute body is akin to an ape
No matter dear, I do admire the body’s shape!
Your beard prickles like a porcupine,
Darling, will you rub your face down my spine?
Your breath reeks of alcohol today
Did you miss me while I was away?
I can go on and on about your shortcomings
Which are overshadowed by your nature so loving
You are the inspiration for this third class verse,
My love for you colours my vision for better or worse!
The divide
Your words
are so enthralling
I forget my world
When I am with them
Spending hours
To listen to
what they say
They inspire me to
Create something
Equally bewitching
But my limited vocabulary
Is unable to surmount
The divide.
Warmth
The quilt of your words
is enough to keep me warm
during harsh winters
Feelings
Chasm
We look at each other
And look away
And feel nothing
Nothing at all
Silence reigns
Desolation all around
The eyes are vacant
The hearts torn asunder
The love, the laughter, the lust
All gone.
After our loss we clung to each other
For succour
For support
Then gradually
we drifted apart
Infinitesimal changes
In the beginning
Then a widening rift
Withdrawing into a shell
Cocooned in sorrow
His heart a fortress now
My silent cries can’t scale the walls
I am left with only emptiness
My womb feels the loss of my child
Contracting and pushing
In remembrance
Experiencing birth pangs
And my body feels the pain of indifference
Of my beloved
Who is there,
but not there at all.
He is immersed in his pain
Unable to see and feel mine
I reach out but
The chasm is so deep
My feeble heart can’t surmount
So I sit listlessly
Watching my life slowly disintegrating
Too weary to make a start
Waiting helplessly for a miracle.
For a dear friend, on her loss.
No, thank you
I don’t want
the sun
the moon
or the stars
at my feet
I want you
by my side
for as long
as possible.
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