Surviving-

Surviving-

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Some days,
The anger seeps through
Every pore in my body,
Tears,
Sweat,
Snot,
Lessening with each drop shed.

Some days,
It builds up Inside of me
Fuelled by every thought,
Breath,
Heart beat,
Increasing in intensity.

Somedays,
I over come it,
Somedays,
it overwhelms me;
Everyday- I survive it

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Poetry (poets)-

Poetry (poets)-

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She told me to write about
The one thing I owned;
What set me apart from,
The writers i know;
What made my heart bleed,
What turns my head spinning,
Bleed from your pen, she said,
The truth you’ve kept hidden.

It began with a conjunction,
The first line i wrote;
Alternating between free verse
And rhyming, i poured
What kept me at night ,
What made my gut churn;
I wrote till I couldn’t,
And made it my own.

Poetry is a journey,
To each poet, their own;
When one pens of heartbreak,
Another pens of joy;
To each their own story,
To each their own woes;
You just do you– she says,
No need to conform.

I’m sorry I havent been able to reply to your comments and posts. Will get to them soon.

One more day-

One more day-

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It doesn’t always take a rope,
To end a life.

Its the breakfast you skip,
For the fear of gaining pounds,
The lunch you nimble at,
For the fear of being judged
By the crowd.

Its the road you cross,
Without checking twice;
The nights you spend,
Without shutting your eyes;
The body you push,
To its brink without regards;

Some deaths aren’t sudden,
Its in the little trivial acts;
Hoping no one would notice,
Thinking- none would miss your departure.

You have survived this long,
And your Lord wont leave you stranded,
If there’s one thing i’d say-
Pls stay alive,
the earth needs your presence.
One more day is all I’m asking,
Always- one more day.

Facebook page: words of a random.

Writer’s Quote: Loss

Writer’s Quote: Loss

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We’ve all suffered losses. Be it a missing pen when we’re about to write an exam, or a missing doll; the loss of husband to someone else or the loss of a loved one from this earth. Some losses, the magnitude of a life ending and some minute. Nevertheless, we have all experienced loss.

The poem I’ll be sharing today for writer’s quote/poem Wednesday is written by the poet- Elizabeth Bishop, and it talks about loss, all forms of it; the inanimate and humanly ones.

Below is the poem and I hope you enjoy it.

One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

First of all-

First of all-

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I am not your personal poet;
Churning words at your whims,
Do you approve?
A few more here,
A little less there;
Pouring your emotions,
From the tip of my pen.

I am not your personal therapist;
Listening to your woes at your
Convenience,
A sponge to absorb your torments,
And a seal to my comments,
Because You and You is all
That should come first.

I am not your doll to be used,
Or better yet abused
At your beck and call;
My legs aren’t yours to move,
At the beat of your drum;
Right-left-forward- now back

But I do write your poems,
And I do listen to your woes,
I’ll move the ground and skies for you,
You don’t even have to ask.
I don’t do it for your status,
Your might or your “prowess”,
I do it because i’m made that way,
To give and bleed unreciprocated.

I do it because,
my heart’s wired to give,
Even if yours isn’t.

 

 

Sigh-

Sigh-

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Every sigh,
Escaping
From the lids of our lips;
Bear a story,
A memory,
we deny the opportunity,
Of the permanence
Of words.

It floats,
Into the universe,
Uniting with its brothers-
Other sighs,
Other memories,
Escaping from other’s prisons.

Do you feel it,
When the wind brushes,
Across your face,
On a summer day;
Do you hear its whispers
At nighttime?
A message,
A reminder.

Every sigh-
Escaping,
holds within itself,
A story untold.

The above image is courtesy of Pinterest.com

Closure-

Closure-

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One word… seven letters.
I always had this idea that to move on, to let go of the past, to put one foot in front of the other through the door called future, I had to have it- closure.

And I sought it, I chased it, I pled for it.  Each time I thought I was close to it, closure merely opened a can-worm of emotions I had no idea still existed within me, no idea how to handle them.

The search for closure led me down a path I should never have tread, a path of hurt of pain of emotions I should never have felt again. And every single time, I still kept going back, for that closure. The person In me, never learnt.

I’m only now understanding, coming to the conclusion- closure isn’t a conversation that needs to be had, it’s not a word that needs to said or unsaid, it’s not a meeting which needs to take place, one last time.

Closure, simply is putting my big girl pants on, taking that big leap of faith through the door into the future with the ideology- Life starts now. And it doesn’t matter, whatever words lie behind the door which were never said, whatever final meeting which never happened, closure doesn’t have to come from an outside source.

The only closure I need, is the closure from within myself, to be able to say done and dusted, and mean it… closure comes from me.

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All or nothing-

All or nothing-

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I don’t want to be the reason for your living,
to be the oxygen required,
For your every breath,
I don’t want to be your all or nothing.
I am a compilation of cracks,
barely staying glued together.

I want to go to bed knowing,
my breaking-
is not your breaking,
My ruination,
Is not your ruining,
When I doom one life,
I haven’t doomed two.
I can’t bear, that responsibility
On me.

If for some reason,
I do not make it,
I need to know,
That you will;
You will push through,
Even without me…

I can’t be the reason
For your living,
I am only human,
flawed… fickle.

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