Goodbye Television

NaPoWriMo Day#3: Write a fourteener, a poem with each line consisting of 14 syllables.

Prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net

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Beneath the neem tree, towards the gleaming water I run

Away from your grip, your hollow talk and dull dirty eyes

My feet rush faster as my mind tries to forget all the

Minutes, the hours, the days, and most important, the moments

You took away from me, my brain too numb, too weary to

Realize how limited my time at home was, how short,

Shorter than your one twenty second advertisement break.

The Blue Bird Flies

NaPoWriMo Day#5: Write a “golden shovel.” This form was invented by Terrance Hayes in his poem, The Golden Shovel. The last word of each line of Hayes’ poem is a word from Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem We Real Cool.

 

The poem I’ve chosen to shovel-ize is Langston Hughes’s beautiful Dreams:

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

 

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow. 

 

The shovel-ized version:

I slip from your hold

Falling freely, falling fast

With nothing to hold on to

I fly with my dreams.

 

What was I holding back for?

If only I had fallen sooner, only if

I’d known how beautiful were my dreams

I wouldn’t have let them die

So silently, condemning myself to a life

Where I forgot what love is,

A life where exhaustion reigned, a

World were every day left me feeling broken-winged

Never realizing I was a blue bird

So tiny, so insignificant that

I often feel I cannot

Let go, never knowing I can fly.

 

I slip from your hold

Falling freely, falling fast

With nothing to hold on to

I fly with my dreams.

 

What was I holding back for?

If only I had fallen sooner, only if

I’d known how beautiful were my dreams

I wouldn’t have let them go

So easily, condemning myself to a life

Where I forgot what love is,

A life where exhaustion reigned, a

World where days were barren

Like a drought fed field,

An existence so frozen

That I’d forgotten that with

My song, I could make it snow. 

 

Paradise Lost and Some Thoughts

Paradise Lost and Some Thoughts

A week long holiday. The college is almost empty.

Books in hand, I step out

To enjoy the last smiling breezes of spring

Before it is cruelly extinguished

By the summer sun.

 

Under the cafe tree I sit,

My head trying to concentrate

On Satan’s seduction of Eve in Paradise Lost.

But the debate of good and evil

Seemed so hard to believe 

In a world coloured with

Different, brilliant shades of grey.

 

I close my book.

The question of Free Will

Seemed distant as I watch

Dry leaves being tossed around

By the wind.

 

Adam and Eve’s folly seems distant,

Yet their loss familiar. 

Could I trace back my mistakes

To the day Eve’s hand reached for that fruit?

Or was it just in me, to be so imperfect?

 

I close my eyes,

And the questions suddenly stop.

Everything becomes clear suddenly:

I am here, this moment is mine,

I feel happy, it may not last, but it exists now.

I will enjoy this moment, I can cry tomorrow. 

This Night

We lay on the moist grass

A soft wind blew. The cold

Had taken leave, summer

Had not yet stomped in.

It was the beautiful in-between season

When tiny flowers unabashedly coloured

And the nights were cloaked in a cooling hug.

 

The black trees swayed gently above us

The stars seemed so close and the sky so near

That it seemed they’d fall on us any moment.

 

But all I could see was your tender smile

And the shadows of leaves softly touching your face

As the sky shone softly in your eyes,

I realized I could always see this night

In you. 

Silent Raindrops

Crowded corridors, its darkness disturbed

By noisy footsteps and colourful jackets.

Loud chatter, disrupting the sacred silence,

Clashing with the grim, dark sky.

 

Walking amidst the noise, amidst the colour,

I long for a minute of quiet and a hint of grey

But the people around almost mute out

The perfect silence of the day.

 

But suddenly, as if heeding

The quiet cries locked up in me,

The sky broke apart to let it rain,

The pattering of the rain blending perfectly

With the silence of the sky.

 

I watched the raindrop fall gently down

Sliding shyly to kiss the grass,

And I realized that it was alright 

To feel lonely in a crowd,

To cry without tears.

 

I will find you one day,

Amidst the crowd and the colours,

We’ll meet in silence, invisible, 

Like raindrops drenching the earth.

Beneath the Coconut Trees

Beneath the Coconut Trees

When you’re away from home, what person, thing, or place do you miss the most?

The sunlight striking the water rushing towards me

The slender leaves of the neem tree swaying lightly

The breeze whispering gently about spectacular sunsets

The ugly white house in the middle of all this beauty.

 

In the water always flowing gently to meet me,

I lost myself again and again, in every wave.

With the blue sky peering behind the coconuts,

I gaze up, my mind neither happy nor sad

Just alive, just there, just at home. 

 

The Constants

Some things remain with you, after everything else disappears

The comforting harmony of the night, the cold which hugs you tight.

When you try to remember, you hear laughter and picture bright lights

Was there really no pain then, or is this how you choose to picture it?

But now, what haunts you is the eerie conversations between silences

The forced smiles, the glances you indulge in before pretending not to see.

 

Things you thought were constant collapse so quickly, 

They replace you with one-dimensional memories of you

And when they see you, they see a memory they chose to preserve,

Gradually, even that shadow of you fades away, and you see

Their eyes, blinking to fit you into an image you outgrew years ago.

 

They become speeding cars, making your heart thud for just a moment

Before they soar past you, leaving you on the street kissed by dim lamps.

In the end, that is what you remember: the soft light which shone bravely

After all the other lights were put out, the gentle breeze fanning your tears.

 

They fade away soon, and you force yourself to stop caring

Loneliness is sticky like honey; its taste clings to your mouth,

You gaze at the sleeping sky, the grass peering longingly above

And you remember the constants, everything that stayed with you,

While you were too busy running after sun beams and mirages.