Hope- a 4 letter word

Hope- a 4 letter word

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Hope-
Without it
I would be, a mess
Of a person, a shadow
Of a human, a remnant of
Someone who could have been;
Without it- I am nobody.

So I hold onto it,
Arms weary, feet dirty
And I cling onto it,
Mind boggy, heart aching
And I claw deep into it,
Fingers piercing
Last mechanism.
And I do not let go,
Despite the darkness
Building around me.

Hope-
A four letter word
Without which…

The above image is courtesy of THE odyssey online

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No judgements here-

No judgements here-

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You see the scars,
Displayed upon my skin;
Each bearing a story,
(Humorous of course)
Of a rebellious kid:

The 10 stair jump,
The bull chasing scare,
The crawling on limestones,
For the reward of a lollipop.

You see the scars,
Displayed upon my skin,
The ones with most impact
Though- I hold within.
Safely guarded:
From all’s prying eyes,
From questions whose answers,
I’m not ready to divulge.

You see the scars,
I let you view;
Don’t judge the whole me, 
The real me,
From just your pieces.

 

 

Hurting, Healing-

Hurting, Healing-

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It hurts…
But here’s the thing, I know I will get over it, just as you got over us. Slowly, then all at once. And when she asks, “why did daddy leave”. 
I’d say, “I don’t know baby, but he did”. And I will say it with conviction and without bitterness.

But today, I have no conviction and I am bitter, staring at the paper you had placed on our desk with the 7 letter words, words I never I thought I would see in our context.

And so, as she asks “where is daddy”, all I can do is hug her as tight as our bodies will allow, waiting for the day the anger, the hurt, the rejection dissipates. 

Facebook Page: words of a random.

Writer’s Quote: Awareness

Writer’s Quote: Awareness

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October is a month which helps to spread the awareness of so many important causes including, Domestic Violence, World Mental health day, Girl child day and the topic of this week’s Writer’s Quote/Poem Wednesday– Breast cancer awareness.

I found an old poetry book of mine called “Nineteen years in diapause“. I bought this book during my first year of medical school and as it was a time when I was in my early phase of poetry, I didn’t fully appreciate the beauty and gems it contained within its poems.

Nevertheless, there was one poem which stuck to me. And as I went through the book again yesterday, I came across the poem once more and knew I had to share it.

Annals of the closet by Katie Queen

No one is to disrupt mommy
when she is working,
she likes her space silent.

Her stethoscope is not a toy
and neither is our new greedy baby:
gurgling and mewing

in the room down the hall.
My room. My lavender coloured room,
a “babies room, not for big girls.”

Looking for mommy,
I found a wig
as she must have found the lump,

lurking in the deep recesses
of her lush closet,
hidden in a bag,

unearthed by curiosities
of nimble fingers’
exploratory cravings.

“For when i’m old and lose my hair”
she said, without hesitation,
Plopping the carbon copy in my head.

After that, there was no need to wonder
anymore. Not even
after I saw the scar-

a pink patch
of matted stretched skin
nestled neatly

between clavicle
and nipple-
something the baby must have seen,

or felt,
or licked,
did I question her.

 

Endings-

Endings-

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My breaking was my becoming,
But i didnt know it then;
Built an ocean from my tears
Watched its waves rise up and crash,

I Stood at the shore and wandered
Of the nothings i have left,
While the ocean i had built up,
Watched me break torrentially.

I thought that I had nothing
But here’s an ocean calling me,
I could sail to all the everythings,
I’ve always wanted to see.

But the thing I learnt of sorrow
Is It never lets you see,
That endings aren’t doors closing,
Sometimes endings are the keys.

 

Day 24: Hope…

Day 24: Hope…

  

Yesterday, He was back,
With a stronger
Argument,
Than I could fight;
So I crumbled under,
The weight
Of his words.
Yesterday-
he was back,
And yesterday I cracked.

Today, the sun is up,
And the hazy weather’s
Disappeared.
He,
is nowhere about;
The words he spoke,
Are faded- Now.
Today,
the sun is up,
And He, is not around.

Tomorrow, he might be back
With a stronger
Vengeance than I can stand.
But today,
I’ll regain my strength,
And believe-
That I can shine.
Tomorrow,
he might back
But by then, my cracks
Will be healed.

Day 24: Strength. In response to December Poetry Challenge. I am a few days late. Let’s see if I can try to catch up. The above image is courtesy of LoveThispic.com

Healing-

Healing-

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She wanted to know,
Why I hid during day;
Where my nightmares took me,
In the solace of dusk;
If the golden rays streaming,
When the morning sun comes;
Puts a damp in the void,
She thought was my world.

She wanted to know,
Of the cracks in my building;
The voices I heard when,
Silence- I befriended;
She wanted to know,
Of the life I am seeking;
The universe I envision,
In my kaleidoscope dreams.

She wanted to know,
Of the holes in my heart,
The blackout in my chapters,
The fairytales, I write;
She wanted to know,
In the hopes she could heal,
But every second with her-
Is all the healing I need.

The above Image is Courtesy of Unicorn.tumblr.com

The saying”everybody needs inspiration” rightly applies to this Random, my muse has gone awol and I haven’t been able to write anything meaningful. I signed up for October Poetry Writing month but their prompts  haven’t titled my writing bone yet. Any tips?

On reflections…

On reflections…

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I’ve loved and I’ve lost,
I’ve been hurt and I’ve hurt;
Tears have marked their place
On my sheet,
Nights have worsened the pains
I feel;
And through the process-
Of love and healing,
Of hurt and seeking,
Revenge or redemption,
A part of me
Has stayed, static.
The part that knows-
I’ve learned through ills,
And grown from pieces.

Bandaged-

Bandaged-

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It’s got to go, it’s got to go;
Ripping the bandage hurts more than the wound
At first- Eventually, the pain wears off.

Shivering underneath floral quilt;
Tear soaked sheet, pain sears deep;
It’s got to go, it’s got to go.

Ignoring the deep cut, cover the skin;
One bandage, then two- a layered up ulcer;
Ripping the bandage hurts more than the wound.

The bandage- festering deeply rooted wound;
Ripped off to heal- it hurts, it bleeds
At first- eventually the pain wears off.

day 17 of October Poetry Writing Month. Word prompt- bandage. Poetry type- Cascade, a poetry type In which the poem does not have any rhyme scheme; therefore, the layout is simple. Say the first verse has three lines. Line one of verse one becomes the last line of verse two. To follow in suit, the second line of verse one becomes the last line of verse three. The third line of verse one now becomes the last line of verse four, the last stanza of the poem.

IMAGE CREDIT: Pinterest 

And She Wrote-

And She Wrote-

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It was one of those blue days,
Where dawn preceded with tears;
And there was little the Rays of sun,
Could do to erase her fears;
And down and down they streamed-
Across a sullen pale dark skin-
And they dripped so hot,
Like the burn in her chest;
So she picked up a pen,
Yeah amidst the tears;
And was tempted to poke,
At the wrist yet again;
But a paper piece gleamed,
And she took it instead;
And she wrote and she cried,
Kept on writing amidst the cries;
And the paper- got filled
With the sun- at its peak
And she looked to the streaming
Rays, now flooding in;
Not a smile, but not a tear
Just relief from unburdening;
And a resolve, grew deeply
To write every now and then;
And write the time away she did-
And write the pain away she did-