Question Marks

Can I look into your eyes?
Could I prepare a boat to sail uncharted waters with you
and smile, even as we drown in them?

Can I peer into the other side;
the side you hide behind your soul’s windows,
tainted by things of your past.

Will you open them for me?
Will you reveal your demons to me,
as I try to unlock this door you hide behind?

Can I touch you?
Can I write our story on your skin,
as I talk you to sweet slumber?

Can I feel your heartbeat?
Can we sync it to mine?
And as you slowly kiss me,
Can I look at the sky and thank the divine?

You sat on my bed
the sunlight dancing off your face
as you asked me,
‘Why do you like question marks?’
And I replied,
‘I don’t really know, but I think it’s because I like wonder.’

Can I take a photograph?
And show you how happy you looked when you laughed
as I tickled you that lazy December afternoon,
 despite all the uncertainty we find ourselves shrouded in.

Can I reveal to you,
though it’s as childish as it seems,
that whenever we cross roads together,
I always feel like we’re going on a marvelous adventure,
Some faraway land, an island?
Or maybe the pizzeria next door,
wherever it may be,
I’d go on a thousand adventures with you,
and write them on this coffee stained paper
and sleep with all those memories in my head.
No matter where.

~For the Poets United prompt- Design

The Typewriter

She sits with panache,
looking out the window.
The sunlight peeping in,
through veins in the sky
Crossed legged, in a snug sweater
and coffee in hand,
she blows over the cup.
A lonely typewriter sits on the rosewood table
the scent of antiquity attached to it.
It longs for fingers to run over the keys,
to let flow the black ink,
to tell stories.

She steals a glance at it,
"Come to me, Come,
Write something. Write yourself."

She hides behind her commercialized coffee mug,
with the standard silly coffee table slogans scrawled over it.
"But I can't think of anything to write.
I'm running dry, dry, dry.
I feel empty."

She looks over at the typewriter again,
that old pal, waiting patiently.
"Write about the emptiness.", it whispers.
She walks over, cautiously
Like a curious infant
at the sight of something wondrous.
Gingerly sitting on the chair,
She runs her hand over the keys.
She writes.
No pause.
No interval.
She wrote.
Her dog resting at her feet.
Calm and quiet at the knowledge,
his master is revitalized.
She takes out the finished paper and smells the ink.
"I love you grandmama"
She looks at the typewriter and says, teary eyed.

Note: Writers always have had a seemingly eternal love affair with Typewriters,for some strange yet comforting reason.

Girls Don't Cry

“Turn your face and wipe those tears”,

Papa said to me.

“Girls don’t cry.”

“You don’t cry, my love.

You don’t shed those tears for those
not worthy of it.

You don’t cry a waterfall
For those who don’t say your name
With the same honor as you do.

Girls don’t cry
You don’t cry away nights,

For things that were never meant to stay.
You don't owe anyone anything,
and you dont have to do what they say.

But most of all

You don’t cry for anyone
Because you are sui generis

Your tears are not worth the
jeers and the mockery.

Girls don’t cry

For your smile, they do not deserve
if they can’t love you for you.”

He holds me in his arms
and looks me in the eye
and says,
“You are more than what you think you are.
You are the past, present and future.
You are my poetry and my story,
you are the words I chose to write my life in
you are your mother’s skin and my bones
you are the pearl hidden in the oyster.
Seize the moment, dear child.
For if you are afraid of falling,
then don’t paralyze yourself,

Don’t be paralyzed!
for we are all murderers
in a victimless crime.
Fall, fall, fall,
and  the stars will catch you in their infinite fabric of time.
And I will catch you if you falter in your climb.”

I wiped my tears and after that,
I never cried.
I vowed to him
that I will emerge victorious
Maybe bruised, maybe cut
Maybe sunburnt,
maybe hurt,
But, I swear,
I will emerge victorious
through this illusionary snare.

Imbroglio

Where have all those days gone?

When we wove blankets of dreams

and slept in them,

dreaming of only happiness and

chewing gum.

Where is it lost?
maybe in all those years of mundane living,

where all we heard was lies

to evil we were unwary,

evolving from diamonds

to people with dark hearts

but a countenance placid. 

Placed in this imbroglio

closed in by walls of structure,

those bubbles of dreams

pricked by the pin of doubt,

they ruptured.

Where did we lose ourselves?

maybe in those numerous streets we walked,

with dark alleys on one side

and bright lights on the other,

where survival stripped us naked

of our dreams

and all we had left were

trench coats and bad decisions.

A Tell-Tale Song

I take my pen
and write this down,
a melody
a tell tale song
I wish you're here
to read this now
this one's for you
so hear this out,
how your thoughts
plague me night and day
your voice
your touch
those happy days
I used to be a locked up box
but now you seem to have the key
I've opened up
you opened me?
But this strange feeling
grabs my throat
its unfamiliar
and all unknown
I shrivel up
I've become cold
but then you come
I fear no more
But alas,
a petty coward am I,
I wrap my feelings
in shadowed lies
unable to come and tell the truth
that I only wish
you love me do.

Note: Oh good God! What is wrong with meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I wish you knew (yet another experiment)

She looked at him,
as if he was real
but he was
was a chimera after all?
She tried to touch him
but he was only her imagination
after all?
"Give up"
she said to herself
here I am miles away
wishing he would know
how I feel?
Never felt love before
how can I tell?
to think from the heart
or to bind myself
to the realms of possibility
Pragmatism?
She looked at his vision
as he began to fade away,
she pursed her lips and said
"I wish you knew."

Note: Too many poems with a lot of feelings eh? :P please bear with me :D Hahaha

Blessings

Blessed I am
for mother & father
who went through the shadows
to lead me to the light
Blessed I am
for the little black hound
who though majestic & proud
plays around
Blessed I am
for the beauty of the world
offering happiness
even when cloudy above
For friends who love
and bring out our shine
for strangers
though anonymous
make us believe
with little acts of kindness
in a big way
or a small one maybe?