No means no

No means no

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For the girl, who screamed No
Till her voice was hoarse-
From yelling,
From screaming,
Pleading- for them to stop.

And her blood stained clothes,
Weren’t evidence enough;
And the length,
Of her skirt-
Was brought into question.

For the girl turned down,
By those who swore to protect her-
Cause good girls,
Aren’t out,
At such time of the night.

For the girl whose strength was burnt,
With one statement to the ground;
Did you resist,
I said No.
Well, is that all you said, No?

For the girl who built her world,
From the rubbles of the past,
Born from anger,
Fuelled with pain,
Watered with hope in order to say-

To the girl, who screams No,
And is told, It isn’t enough.
No means No,
It is enough.

In response to the daily prompt- Resist

The above image is courtesy of Sos safety magazine

I am my mother’s daughter

I am my mother’s daughter

 

Raised with the fire,
Of a self learned woman;
Cradled under the shade,
Of bamboo trees;
Laid on an arched back,
Whilst toiling clay lands;
Don’t mind, when I declare-
I am my mother’s daughter.

Waved off to school,
With hands- worn from milking,
Fed whilst her stomach,
Growled of hunger;
Appeased with a smile stamped,
On a face darkened from wood’s soot;
Don’t mind, when I declare,
I am my mother’s daughter.

Raised her girls to be queens,
In a land ruled by men;
Bore the brute of words,
For demanding education;
Believed- in their strength while
The world tried to break them;
Don’t mind, when I declare,
I am my mother’s daughter.

The beautiful painting above is the artwork of Claudia Tremblay

She was beauty-

She was beauty-

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She tried to find the beauty,
People claim, in her they see;
That light which brightens hearts,
And set some souls ablaze;
She stared at her reflection,
With every waking dawn;
And spent the day dejected,
Cause the light, she never saw;
But the beauty was embedded,
In the window of her teeth;
In the way high voice rose high,
When she fluttered at her speech;
In the tightening of her lips,
When she hears of injustice;
In the widening of her eyes,
At the sound of Poetry;
She tried to find the beauty,
People claim in her they see-
In her soul, it was embedded
In every cell of her being.

The above image is courtesy of Breaking the silence

Pretty-

Pretty-

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All that you are,
Isn’t reflected in the mirror;
And the face looking back,
Is but a twinkle of a star;
The scales that you mount,
They measure lipos and calories;
But the worth of your heart,
Can’t be measured and priced.

When your clavicle pokes up,
Passers-by call you pretty;
So you run extra kilometers,
Spending hours in the gymnasium;
You eat at the brink of starvation,
Feeling dizzy and lightheaded;
But my God, you think it is worth it
Passers-by would call you pretty.

All that you are girl,
Can’t be reflected in the mirror;
It shows you face worth,
Not the reality your soul captures;
And the words passersby throw,
Is but a drop in the ocean;
So you say it ain’t so,
I’m always pretty regardless

The above image is courtesy of Visualize.com

A Wallflower-

A Wallflower-

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It was the question she yearned,
For someone to ask;
It was the words left unsaid,
Which tugged at her heart;
It was the silence following,
An argument backed out of;
It was all the missed chances,
Of a girl, a wallflower.

It was the sacky eyes hidden,
Behind lush mascara;
It was the curve of her lips,
Upward despite anger;
It was the people leaving,
Without having closure;
It was all the days trials,
Which built up the wall around her.

It was the solitude she sought For,
In the arms of her father;
It was the tears that were wiped,
By the kiss of a mother;
It was the forehead In acquiescence,
With the law of the creator;
It was the littlest of things
That still kept a wallflower
Going, the littlest of things-
Which holds together, a wallflower.

Society’s Impositions-

Society’s Impositions-

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Girls don’t do that,
She was imposed as a child;
Wipe off those tears,
And replace with a smile;
Disheveled head,
Was a sin in their crowds;
Right from her start,
She was trained to disguise.

She mastered the talent,
Of a face behind a smile;
Hid imperfections,
It was a sin in their crowd;
Bottling up emotions,
Was the only way to live;
Hiding her Brains,
Her job was to be pretty.

And with the sun rose,
An actor ready for the part;
And when the night fell,
Her demons-they befriended her;
For the light brought with it,
A part, society had imposed;
And darkness was a relief,
To the face behind the glam.

Girls don’t do that,
They imposed as a child;
And now they wonder,
Why her sheets are soaked at night.

The above image is courtesy of Thehealthyplace.com

Him, her, coffee…

Him, her, coffee…

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Here we go again;
The girl-
With the notebook;
The boy,
With his hopes up,
Today will be the day,
I can see the eagerness-
In the way,
He twitches his left foot,
Sifts his fingers
Through raven hair;
How doesn’t she notice.
I pass his coffee- the usual
He smiles;
I sigh;

The girl has arrived,
Note in hand, gaze down
I notice, I just notice
The flushed cheeks
Twirling hair-
She was into him, too;
I sigh again
At the hopelessness of lovers.
Do I bring these two
Together;
Tell him to tell her;
But then-
I’m only a waiter
I move on to the next order
Leaving the lovers-
To another day of
I wish I’d said something…

So, I came across this awesome poem by Rupali, “The girl in the bookstore” which inspired me to write this poem. But that’s not all, Rupali’s poem was actually inspired by one written by are Rehman Jafar “The coffee shop“. Thank you guys for inspiring me.

The above image is courtesy of The bw photo

Just a teenager-

Just a teenager-

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There was an empty in her laughter,
And less meanings in her words;
Her shoulders- sloped too often,
Closed posture, she assumed;
Heedless to observations,
In a bubble she resides;
Carefree with an air of gloom
Hovering above- she was described.

Lived on the notion love was but
The movies she had watched;
And somewhere In between life threw
Some sunshine in her storm;
For the downer angst filled teen
Displayed emotions ‘stead of words;
‘least that’s what loved ones hoped
Would be the eventuality for-
Anger as hers was consuming
and destroyed the light of soul.

But she’s still a teenage girl,
And lives her life without regard;
And maybe she is satisfied with,
The way her life has panned so far;
There’s lot of road bumps up ahead
The anger’s just begun;
In place of judgement, all she needs-
Is a solid rock to fall back on;
To crash, is inevitable yet the chance
To rise is greatly more-
When knowing there’s someone there
To lend a hand, as you pull back up.

I turned off the comment for this post because I haven’t been able to reply to posts much recently and it’s unfair to have you guys take the time and write such kind words if I don’t reply them on time. I’ve been wrexams since Sunday  but will get back and reply as soon as I can. ❤

image credit: Lelove image

Searching…

Searching…

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She searched for reviews of books to read, the best she got was “satisfying”. She wasn’t one to settle for average, never had been; so she tried the search button yet again.

More books, more search titles and more average satisfying reviews. She wanted a book she could drown her sorrows in. She wanted a book which reflected the strange universe embedded in the depth of her mind. She wanted a book whose words she could breathe.

But above all, she wanted a book she could recall with a smile at the unusual coincidence of distinct similarities with the characters,
         In the end, she decided, maybe I should write one…

IMAGE CREDIT:Merilocal.com

If only she knew-

If only she knew-

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She wasn’t pretty,
Or dainty or cool;
Hair wasn’t blonde,
Or brunette just a nude;
Walked with the world,
On the sole of her feet;
Lived an outsider,
A rebel- so deemed.
But she was a beauty,
If only she knew;
Her smile- radiant as
The sun at its peak;
Her cerulean eyes
Could defeat the sea’s;
Donning all black she
Was it’s irony.

She wasn’t pretty,
Or dainty or cool;
Had eyes which hinted-
Sorrow buried deep.
Shuddered at slight touch-
Defense mechanism;
Always in trouble-
Had no zeal to live;
If only she knew-
What she meant to me;
She was the universe,
And it’s galaxies.
She hid the truth from,
The rest of the world;
And I pretended,
She wasn’t my world;
On we continued,
She lived for no one;
But she was my reason,
To live just once more-
If only she knew.

image credit: Mitty dawn- pinterest