***Should I keep the last line? I always find it difficult to end a piece of writing and this seemed like a good solid end, a way to connect the I AM to the rest of humanity and orient the poem to a part of society. But maybe it's better to just leave it as an abstract "I" that is loosely floating. What do you think?***
7/23/11
I am an ultra-soft kleenex, the one used to wipe away your precious tears.
I am a land turtle stuck in water, contained in a clear, large, glass tank.
I am the ice cube that stubbornly refuses to melt, in order to keep you cool for another day.
I am the sudden, yet saturated darkness that conquers a room the moment the electricity goes out. The tranquility that replaces the droning of machines when they are finally silenced.
I am your imperfect conscience, struggling to conceal your flaws, while baptizing you in a fountain of virtue.
I am the smile that can light up a room, the hurricane that can destruct a city with a wink.
I am the thirsty ocean full of salty water, a shiny contradiction waiting to be cocooned by the gleaming black hair of sirens I strive to keep at bay.
I am you at your best and the world at its worst. I am not perfect and I will never claim to be. Because I am what I am and you'll just have to accept every part of me.
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Saturday, July 23, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Work in Progressive-- UNFINISHED!
***This is a concept I've been struggling to put into words for a long time. This is by no means done (and may never be completed to my satisfaction) but I'll be working on it throughout the week. In the novel, Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold touched upon this and wrote one of the most wonderful descriptions of the concept (I'm trying to describe) to date. I'm not going to tell you what it is, because I want to see if people can guess on their own/have them take it how they want to! Enjoy***
7/19/11
You are a vessel of memories untold. Stories which will forever remain unknown to me, unless I accidentally happen to stumble upon some long forgotten article that awakens the memory within. To me, your history started 24 years after it really did, your past divided into BM and AM-- before me and after me. As far as I’m concerned, the laugh lines lining your eyes like kohl, were created by me and not once did I think that someone else could lay claim as their creator.
I find your face, a face I can recognize better than my own regardless of the emotion it chooses to display, difficult to identify when it is accompanied with two braided pigtails and a beaming smile. When I hear your stories, I try to imagine that child as the protagonist, but the best I manage is your face, on a child’s body. Because in truth, that is how I’ve always made sense of your stories. Perhaps it’s because you’ve always been lost in the past, that I subconsciously keep placing you there now.
7/19/11
You are a vessel of memories untold. Stories which will forever remain unknown to me, unless I accidentally happen to stumble upon some long forgotten article that awakens the memory within. To me, your history started 24 years after it really did, your past divided into BM and AM-- before me and after me. As far as I’m concerned, the laugh lines lining your eyes like kohl, were created by me and not once did I think that someone else could lay claim as their creator.
I find your face, a face I can recognize better than my own regardless of the emotion it chooses to display, difficult to identify when it is accompanied with two braided pigtails and a beaming smile. When I hear your stories, I try to imagine that child as the protagonist, but the best I manage is your face, on a child’s body. Because in truth, that is how I’ve always made sense of your stories. Perhaps it’s because you’ve always been lost in the past, that I subconsciously keep placing you there now.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Dare to Dream
****“The boy and his heart had become friends, and neither was capable now of betraying the other.” The Alchemist *****
7/17/11
By the fireplace we’d sat--silently
The crackling flames dancing to the beat of our hearts
A memory being woven around us,
Cradling us in her cocoon
Fears balled tightly between us
Until it became impossible to unravel
Which one belonged to whom
Our senses sharpened
Tuned into our heart center
Until we could hear what wasn’t being said
Drawing in the energy of the world
Until it coursed through our veins
Fighting off the worries that plagued you
The obstacles I’d always seen in the way
It wasn’t until that moment,
Full of desire and resolution
We spoke directly to one another
A conversation we should have had long ago
Hypnotized by the possibilities
You folded yourself inside of me
Finally giving me much needed shape and definition
7/17/11
By the fireplace we’d sat--silently
The crackling flames dancing to the beat of our hearts
A memory being woven around us,
Cradling us in her cocoon
Fears balled tightly between us
Until it became impossible to unravel
Which one belonged to whom
Our senses sharpened
Tuned into our heart center
Until we could hear what wasn’t being said
Drawing in the energy of the world
Until it coursed through our veins
Fighting off the worries that plagued you
The obstacles I’d always seen in the way
It wasn’t until that moment,
Full of desire and resolution
We spoke directly to one another
A conversation we should have had long ago
Hypnotized by the possibilities
You folded yourself inside of me
Finally giving me much needed shape and definition
7/16/11
You’d always possessed so much potential
That it hurts me to see it now, wasting away
Red cup in hand
….
At least you’re smiling
….
But you see, it is that smile that’s left me confused
From far away, it’s hard to see
If those lines-deeply grooved in place
Are filled with waves of worry or laughter..
It depends on the day which I see
But I suppose your truth will always
Remain hidden from me.
You’d always possessed so much potential
That it hurts me to see it now, wasting away
Red cup in hand
….
At least you’re smiling
….
But you see, it is that smile that’s left me confused
From far away, it’s hard to see
If those lines-deeply grooved in place
Are filled with waves of worry or laughter..
It depends on the day which I see
But I suppose your truth will always
Remain hidden from me.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
You will be missed Harry Potter
***Yesterday, the last Harry Potter movie came out. Today, I wrote a poem. Tomorrow, I'll have to start rereading the books to cope.***
7/16/11
I’ll drape myself in black for a week, maybe a month
As I mourn the tragic end to my literary childhood
7/16/11
I’ll drape myself in black for a week, maybe a month
As I mourn the tragic end to my literary childhood
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Decaying Greenery
***I wrote this the other day in 4-6 minutes as I procrastinated applying to jobs yet again! What do you think?***
7/10/11
A lush coppice of lies
patiently waiting to be burned
to better harbor the fugitives of truth
7/10/11
A lush coppice of lies
patiently waiting to be burned
to better harbor the fugitives of truth
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Pureed Contentment
*** A metaphorical culmination of the past week. I'm not sure what it means, but I always thought poems that mentioned forefathers were pretty sweet;)***
7/5-7/8/11
Sunburned lips drip into a smile
Stained pink with the juice of melons
Grown by my forefathers
7/5-7/8/11
Sunburned lips drip into a smile
Stained pink with the juice of melons
Grown by my forefathers
Friday, July 1, 2011
Untitled
Throughout the week leading up to 7/1/11
*** Inspired by a lovely writer friend, I thought I'd keep this one short and sweet instead of rambling on forever! I also tried to employ the technique of vagueness and use metaphors rather than describing everything clearly. One of the lines of this poem is inspired by the old Bollywood movie, Mughal-E-Azam. As usual, I'd love to hear what type of emotion this evoked in you and any thoughts you may have about it in general.***
It fell out of my chest and into my palm
One shattered into three
But the cold metal chain was left intact
To ensure I would never be let free
***Oooh on a side note, I heard this great shayari (Indian couplet) in another Indian movie, Umrao Jaan.
In Urdu: کیوں آج اسکا ذکر مجھے خوش نا کرسکا
کیوں آج اسکا نام میرا دل دکھا گیا
A rough translation: Why doesn't remembering His/Her name make me happy today?
Why did His/Her name hurt my heart today?
To me, the beauty of this shayari lays in the ambiguity of the pronoun اسکا (Uska) which can mean his or her. اسکا can refer to God, a lover, a friend, a lost child, parents, a stranger you only met once, the woman you helped cross the street, a memory, etc.
And with that, I wish you all a Happy Fourth of July:)
*** Inspired by a lovely writer friend, I thought I'd keep this one short and sweet instead of rambling on forever! I also tried to employ the technique of vagueness and use metaphors rather than describing everything clearly. One of the lines of this poem is inspired by the old Bollywood movie, Mughal-E-Azam. As usual, I'd love to hear what type of emotion this evoked in you and any thoughts you may have about it in general.***
It fell out of my chest and into my palm
One shattered into three
But the cold metal chain was left intact
To ensure I would never be let free
***Oooh on a side note, I heard this great shayari (Indian couplet) in another Indian movie, Umrao Jaan.
In Urdu: کیوں آج اسکا ذکر مجھے خوش نا کرسکا
کیوں آج اسکا نام میرا دل دکھا گیا
A rough translation: Why doesn't remembering His/Her name make me happy today?
Why did His/Her name hurt my heart today?
To me, the beauty of this shayari lays in the ambiguity of the pronoun اسکا (Uska) which can mean his or her. اسکا can refer to God, a lover, a friend, a lost child, parents, a stranger you only met once, the woman you helped cross the street, a memory, etc.
And with that, I wish you all a Happy Fourth of July:)
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