I Cry

An attempt to get over something; an attempt to vent without giving too much away. This has absolutely no poetic merit, but it helps me reorganise my thoughts. Sometimes you just get really lonely, and you wish things were different. You wish you'd said somethings, you wish you'd kept somethings to yourself. Sometimes, however, you wish you weren't so dependent- you wish you didn't need that crutch, that support. On the surface you may think you're fiercely independent, but the fact that you need someone to talk to all the time- does that make you weak? I wonder...

Anyways.

The tears
They don't stop flowing
The sorrows
They don't go away
I'm broken
The pain is growing
And I am tired
I have nothing to say
So I just cry
Into this emptiness
I just cry
Where I won't be heard

The memories
They don't stop fading
The dreams
Come crashing down
There's nothing left to love
There's nothing worth hating
As I sit searching
For something to call my own
So I just cry
Mourn the solitude
I just cry
Wishing there were more

Those last words
They don't stop echoing
The anger
Refuses to subside
But it isn't easy
To forget and move on
There's nowhere to go
There are no feelings left to hide
So I just cry
Failing to bridge the distance
I just cry
All alone.

Home

This week's theme on IAW is Home. I, by chance, happened to find this poem/collection of thoughts, and realised it would fit perfectly. But to be fair, I won't submit this seeing as how I have already won once. So onto my blog it goes!

The melodious music in the voices I know

The caressing embrace of all that surrounds me

A pleasant aroma of familiarity in the air

In the solid but friendly walls

A vivid sense of security resides

Away from the sun scorched world

In the privacy of my own little nest

Where concern hangs in every word

Where my sister's twitter brightens all

Where anger too is accepted, and understood

Where being honest is as easy as it should be

Where love adorns life

And where a twinkling smile

Can always be seen, always be sensed

Where each moment is dancing with joy

Neither cover nor mask is necessary

No costumes, no need to pretend

For here you can be yourself

And still be truly accepted

The cradling feathers of my pillow

The carpets that welcome me with whispers

My mother's reassuring touch

And my father's elusive smile.

Echoing the happy laughs

Each brick is a part of my home

And my home is the best part of me

In the Shadows of the Evening

An attempt to write a sonnet- which, I think, is an unbelievably difficult thing to write by the way. I've sort of got a volta somewhere in there, and hopefully the attempts at adhering to technicalities are passable.

Upon the horizon, the sun has set,
Yet the sheltering night wanders astray.
The candles sit waiting, lest you forget;
Though hidden, the darkness is on its way.
Sensing the interlude, prey rushes home,
While in preparation, hunters emerge.
Bathed in the twilight, and tinted in chrome,
The ripples and heavens begin to merge.
The sights and sounds, all mysteries galore.
Guarded secrets and treasures, free at last,
Only to vanish with dusk, sans furore.
Another chance gone- a thing of the past.
But the true wonder lies in ignorance, not knowing;
In waiting, and watching, in fascinations growing.

Surgery

Just a random short story, don't even remember why I started to write it. Anyways...

"Don't you have faith in me?", she asked with a sigh.
"Of course I do honey. It's just that...I mean you're sure you can do this right?" His voice sounded unsure, almost as if he were afraid of how she'd react.
"Are you serious? You think this is rocket science? For god's sake, I know what I'm doing. Now hold still." She walked up to him slowly and deliberately, avoiding his worried gaze.
"Come on Rob. Relax. I've told you before and I'm telling you again. I know exactly what I am doing. So, do you want the thing that looks like a knife, the pinchy thingy or this bright shiny needle?", she asked in a childlike voice. He could tell she was mocking him on purpose, and her voice did nothing to mask the sudden twinkle in her eyes.
He thought for a moment before answering.
"I don't care. Just make it quick."
"Alright. You can stop shivering now." She clenched her fists in frustration as she saw him close his eyes, as if he were preparing to go to war.
"You're acting completely immature Rob. Now come on, let me get this out."
"Hey! I resent that. I am not acting immature. I'm in a lot of pain here okay. You have no idea what I'm going through."
"My apologies. I realise this must be phenomenally hard for you."
He avoided her gaze; he knew she was probably rolling her eyes the way she usually did. After a moment's silence she quietly whispered in his ear, "You, good sir, are pathetic."
He frowned at her, as she barely managed to suppress a giggle.
"Get it over with will you!"
"Okay then. Here goes." She positioned the forceps, and finished the job with one clean stroke of her wrist.
"See, that wasn't so bad now, was it?", she cooed in her sweetest voice.
"Well it did hurt a bit, but nothing I couldn't handle." His voice regained its usual smug quality.
"Yeah sure, because men don't feel pain right?" Her sarcasm wasn't in the least bit subtle.
"Exactly. Glad you agree.", he responded teasingly, while flexing his relatively flaccid biceps.
"So now that we've established how manly you are, how would you like to meet the cause of all the pain that you handled ever so bravely?"
His smile vanished instantaneously, only to be replaced by a blank stare.
"That's not funny."
She pulled his hand towards herself and placed a thin splinter on his palm.
"Of course it isn't funny. I never said it was. It's just really manly isn't it?", she chuckled.

Waking up to White

Another colour based piece. Turns out these are a lot of fun to write...Slightly more morbid...

I open my eyes- slowly, cautiously. I take in the surroundings, I breathe in the white air, I feel the white sheets, I smell the white room, I hear the white tears.
I sense them staring at me. I feel their hesitant attempts to hold me, to come near me, to be with me. The white hurts my eyes. I close them- slowly cautiously.

I hear the incessant beeps- one loud one not so loud, then loud again. The window appears to be open. The comfortingly cold air tiptoes into the room. It carefully makes its way towards me, taking care not to disturb the sterile room and its sterile inmates. It tickles my chin, it plays with my fingers, it fills my lungs, it dances on my tummy, it welcomes me. The snowflakes outside the window slow their descent. They shout their greetings through the open window. The white rituals begin. The white existence commences.

I look around my new home. Walls daubed in the brightest of colours. Not a white patch to be seen. Yellow sunshine, blue clouds, green grass, red poppies, orange ice cream, purple dresses, magenta swings, ochre sand, teal petals. All the white has been painted over. White has been overpowered. I couldn't be more separate from my new home.

The empty corners, the empty back yard, the one student classrooms, the house with no neighbours. White gave them shame. White gave me solitude. White silently wields its sword. White wages war with all the colours and brightness, the most tainted and twisted form of purity ever encountered. White is the darkest of them all.

Every overprotective gesture, every engulfing embrace, every peck on the cheek, every declaration of love, every wave goodbye while I wait to be rescued. Every white memory haunts me now. Every horrid remark, every desperate attempt to hide disgust and disbelief, every understanding nod at the sound of the word albino. Every white memory haunts me now...

Getting to Know Green

Okay, so this was written in response to the one word topic 'Green'...I don't claim to be sure if this relates to the topic, or if it makes any sense. But I was kind of trying to talk about the regular stuff associated with green in a relatively irregular way...Here goes...

A haze. A confusing illusion. The colour is thick, dense; it's almost solid. I try to brush it aside. I try to make my way through it. I try to pierce the darkness- the green darkness. But it fights back, stands strong, gloats victoriously. It graciously calls me a loser.
The haze diffuses farther, reaching every corner of the infinite room. The illusion becomes hypnotic; it verges on becoming hallucinogenic. The victory is not enough. It must destroy, it must overpower, it must shred every last emotion till its talons are dripping with the spoils of war. Only I never realise it is war. I wait, I wonder; I pray for it to end, while it decides to take everything to a new level.
I try to resist, it wants me to succumb. I refuse to be passive. If this is war, I will not hesitate to fight. I will invade the mists, the haze, and the illusions. My thoughts will slice, cut, and kill every minion. I will wield my optimism- the only weapon I have. I will not let green reign over me. I will not let green reign over hope. I will not let green reign over memories. I will not let green reign over novelty. I will not let green reign over serenity. I will not let green reign over humility. I will not let green reign over all that is life.
It will be forced to obey, forced to accept defeat, forced to accede. It will become one with all that it wished to overthrow, all that it tried to crush. It will be redefined.
I command thee oh green darkness to come into the light. I command thee to make thine senses vulnerable, to feel all there is to feel. I command thee to choose thine penance. Whether it be a submissive retreat, or an attempt to redeem thine honour, I command thee to be honest to thy own self.
No longer a haze. The illusions make sense. The colour is true, deep, strong; it's almost ethereal. It transcends petty ambitions. It looks to a higher power. It is everywhere; it pervades the mind, the heart, the soul and every thought. It seeps through the deep seas. It bends beneath the morning dew. It glistens in the peacock's feathers. It sags under the Christmas ornaments. It holds together the rest of the rainbow. And in doing so, it holds a power far greater than any tyrant could. Green has fought its own demons, and has finally emerged victorious in the truest sense of the word. Green is no longer the enemy. Green is now the harbinger of life.

Perpetual Limbo

The edges are hazy.
Definitions undefined,
The decisions are lazy,
Meaning left behind.
Nothing is exact,
Not everything is grey.
Neither fiction nor fact,
So much to say.
The mind is clouded;
Heart all aflutter.
Memories are crowded-
Lost in the clutter.
Emotions deceiving,
Experiences surreal,
Blindly believing,
Not knowing what to feel.
On a quest for clarity,
Lost behind the scenes.
Battling similarity
Stuck in between.