Relations

To Love

I yearn to love, a love with a passion

Joining hearts, a fatal attraction

To be fondled by your words alone, holding on to promises by your lips

To savor the sweetness and emotion that drips

Let us hold together, let our eyes slowly find and meet

Let all time stop, with nothing but our heartbeats




Girl after a girl: Events unforgettable

 

 

Part I

 

1) With a ‘to’ and a ‘fro’ in her throat,

something she did note,

as on a piece of paper, she wrote

"I can't like you, for you don't know -

I got to go away - to which I can't say No."

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

2) With her legs beside me, so stiff

and -to save me- her hands with great mischief,

she conveys to the punishment chief -

"Oh Ma'am? How can he be guilty?

As this is his first moment to my proximity!"

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

3) With all her teeth and gums out

and her tiny eyes so stout,

she beckons me with a shout -

"Go! I won't talk anymore to you.

How much I am hurt, you never knew."

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

4) With real tears in her eyes

and five of her fingers glued to rice,

maybe yes, twice - she cries -

"How would you know how much I moan!

For, never you, I am disturbed alone."

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

5) With a big grin at my face,

but with a big cry, the very next phase,

at my back this time, she says -

"He wouldn't have really scolded me,

If, even little, he had ever read me."

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

6) With a rise in all her gaze over the book,

when asked for her verses, she gave me an eerie look.

Soon, she wrote for me; Almost a month it took! -

"Though difficult, try to remember me

for, perhaps many for you, though you're alone for me."

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

From a girl, only another girl keeps one away,

but not from past nor future, for there're many more girls, I say.

An event with a girl can give a great kick start

that can lead anyone, till many suns set.

Memories of brain written from heart -

a few of many incidents I could not forget!

 


Part II

 

7) With drops falling down as she bends

her neck, in some reunion -she attends

after a year- she tells our friends -

Long back, He stopped talking to me.

Neither a hello nor a glance – as if I’m his enemy.

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

8) With a smile -she leaves the lab- too fake one

and with swollen eyes -returns in- pointing none.

Then, a message leaves her, following the sun -

A friend can be anything, but not a sister!

So, please don’t ever call me so, you mister!

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

9) With good red expressions – contorted,

while issues were being sorted

out about my interest in her, her words parted –

Oh, now please stop it! I want no fight.

I understand it and it’s completely alright!

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

10) With her ideas so optimistic,

though actions far realistic,

she typed something very mystic -

Had you worked, excellence of now would have been average

Anyways, any failure to be understood needs courage.

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

11) With her face full of joy and hope

and beliefs no less than some pope,

she always replies, to my theory of mortality, with nope -

The word End, with someone can also be Never,

for the person may know words like Forever.

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

12) With a look so cheerless, that can shrink

one’s heart -though sometimes so cheerful that can kink

it’s beat- she said or typed - I think -

Really miss you as I sometimes also saw my ex in you.

You played big part in my life, though days were very few.

Well, every girl is so so pretty.

 

Lies apart, any girl can make your day,

no matter whether you are a guy, girl or a gay

This is a small tribute to a small part

of all the girls I met.

Memories of brain written from heart -

a few of the incidents I could never forget!

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A saga written as a ode about incidents revolving in mind, involving a few of the girls I met. Their sounds still ring in my head!

Without Words

one mans mind can too easy fool you on what you actually see.
maybe ive been fooled since the beginning because i can only see.
see the potential of things i wish to be.
but these things will never happen because you are blind.
blind to the emotions radiating from ourselves.
ive fell victim to it so long ago.
poisoned by a perpetual sickness.
afflicted by your lips which brings me to my knees.
affection is never a double edged blade.
its always a one sided argument or a war within a mans mind.
ive been so calm and collective biding my time.
to wait for the perfect time.
i will turn to stone and erode away before that time comes.
dreaming myself awake at the thought of you.
I scream for you everyday. without words.
hoping my body can call your name.
but can you hear me?
or are you even listening?

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If It Rains I Want to Be the Last to Know

and I want you to be the one that tells me.
I want your word on your sincerity,
and I want your eyes looking into mine.
I'd like it if you took my hands
and held them somewhere near our chests -
and say it slow and sure and firm,
baring nothing after left for question.
Tell me all the weight of drops
that pour upon the plastic awnings.
Paint the landscape in my head
with only words you've chosen.
Make such sounds that stir the dead
with the depths to which they travel,
and grant no option past another
that forces me all at your side.
And if there's stars or charcoal skies
I want just you to fetch me too.
Gladly take your hand in mine
and help me to enjoy myself.
Aid me and my fragile vice;
force me to antagonize
the every bit of former me
and his lack of sweet momentum.

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Average (of) Annandale

Apparent in the amiable
extension of a joke,
Annandale will shake your hand
and then begin to blend.
Excuses self from spoken depths,
and exits every dialogue;
never with a sense of stay,
but never with a sense of go.
Annandale's empowering
sense of overwhelming self, at least,
may throw off one's true depth perceived,
at least, in terms of Annandale.
For average he, not brick in color;
though stuck to walls like mewling vines,
cannot see, though may discover
a taste for salt that follows rejection.
All it takes is a boisterous caw,
and enough to make his head feel stew;
the man aloft on wicker water -
too far beyond to fear the coldest of their shoulders.

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