My words-

My words-

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It’s the only thing I have
To offer,
Guard it, safe under your
Pillow at night,
That I may know,
The demons which
Haunt me
Taunt me
Compel me
To put into words all that
I can’t handle,
Are away from the one thing
I can call my own-
Mine-
my words.

Read it,
So that I may know,
Though miles apart,
You see the pages,
Filled with lines
Of the truth and pain,
With which each letter
Is strung,
And you know,
These papers,
Aren’t just filled with words,
But a map of my journey,
Thus far on earth.

Cherish it,
Like you would the heart
Of a friend,
And remember-
Etched in the words,
Are pieces of my heart,
Which I am bestowing,
To no one else,
But- you.

Facebook page: words of a Random. Let’s connect!

Writer’s Quote: Carmen Giménez Smith

Writer’s Quote: Carmen Giménez Smith

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Welcome to another writer’s quote/poem Wednesday, where I share some of my favourite poems written by other authors. Today’s featured poem is one I came across only recently, and I haven’t been able to stop reading it. My heart bleeds at it’s verses. The poem is titled bleeding heart by Carmen Giménez Smith, and as I couldn’t stop at just one poem, I can safely say she is one amazing poet.

The poem, bleeding heart, talks about an overly sympathetic individual who feels so much, in fact too much. The poem begins as a metaphor- “my heart is bleeding”, then goes on to describe all the things which make the character feel so much; bleed so much. The suffocating effect of feeling too much can be felt in the line where the writer says, “it becomes the cork of me and I choke on it.”

She goes on to further explain her predicament by referencing, she bleeds so much, sometimes, she is a raisin (a dried fruit). And then immediately afterwards, she lists some more things which make her bleed, Indicating, as long as there is a sympathetic situation, she would always feel, bleed.

I love this poem in particular because it reminds me of the current situation we are living in, so much atrocities going on in different parts of the world, and my heart bleeds for them. It bleeds for the animals being treated cruelly for no fault of theirs, the children getting displaced, the women and men oppressed and abused- my heart bleeds.

Bleeding Heart BY Carmen Giménez Smith 

My heart is bleeding. It bleeds upward and fills
my mouth up with salt. It bleeds because of a city in ruins,
the chair still warm from sister’s body,
because it will all be irreproducible. My heart
bleeds because of baby bear not finding mama bear and it bleeds
to the tips of my fingers like I painted my nails Crimson.
Sometimes my heart bleeds so much I am a raisin.
It bleeds until I am a quivering ragged clot, bleeds at the ending
with the heroine and her sunken cancer eyes, at the ending
with the plaintive flute over smoke-choked killing fields. I’m bleeding
a river of blood right now and it’s wearing a culvert in me for the blood. My heart
rises up in me, becomes the cork of me and I choke on it. I am bleeding
for you and for me and for the tiny babies and the IED-blown
leg. It bleeds because I’m made that way, all filled up with blood,
my sloppy heart a sponge filled with blood to squeeze onto
any circumstance. Because it is mine, it will always bleed.
My heart bled today. It bled onto the streets
and the steps of city hall. It bled in the pizza parlor with the useless jukebox.
I’ve got so much blood to give inside and outside of any milieu.
Even for a bad zoning decision, I’ll bleed so much you’ll be bleeding,
all of us bleeding in and out like it’s breathing,
or kissing, and because it is righteous and terrible and red.

P.s What makes your heart bleed? 

Love & Poetry

Love & Poetry

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You tell me it’s all fiction,
the poetry you write,
That reality is far fetched,
From the land your muse resides,

The so called “love” you’d written,
Are words without much heart,
And I wonder if you think back,
To the ring on your finger.

You’d ask of my opinion,
And of course I’d say it’s great,
But I wonder, don’t you think our love,
Is worth words on a page.

So I read through every single page,
With pulse at a heightened pace,
And wonder will this be the day,
Our love inspires poetry.

Writer’s Quote: How frail the heart must be-

Writer’s Quote: How frail the heart must be-

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For this week’s writer’s quote, I want to try something different. But of course, it requires you guys to play along. So, last time, I shared the poem “thoughtless cruelty” by Charles Lamb. This week, what I’m going to do is share a poem and leave it up to you guys to guess the author. Are you ready? Okay.

The author wrote the poem below at the bare age of fourteen. I am almost 21 and I can only hope to write as good as that some day. When the author was asked regarding the poem, she said “Once a poem is made available to the public, the right of interpretation belongs to the reader”. I absolutely agree with that. Here is the poem below:

I thought that I could not be hurt;
I thought that I must surely be
impervious to suffering-
immune to pain
or agony.

My world was warm with April sun
my thoughts were spangled green and gold;
my soul filled up with joy, yet
felt the sharp, sweet pain that only joy
can hold.

My spirit soared above the gulls
that, swooping breathlessly so high
o’erhead, now seem to brush their whir-
ring wings against the blue roof of
the sky.

(How frail the human heart must be-
a throbbing pulse, a trembling thing-
a fragile, shining instrument
of crystal, which can either weep,
or sing.)

Then, suddenly my world turned gray,
and darkness wiped aside my joy.
A dull and aching void was left
where careless hands had reached out to
destroy

my silver web of happiness.
The hands then stopped in wonderment,
for, loving me, they wept to see
the tattered ruins of my firma-
ment

(How frail the human heart must be-
a mirrored pool of thought. So deep
and tremulous an instrument
of glass that it can either sing,
or weep).

As I asked at the beginning, who do you know write the poem? Looking forward to your answers in the comments, come on, don’t hide your knowledge. 🙂

Without him-

Without him-

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With him,
Life held meaning
With him,
Each day was a memory in the making
Without,
Life seems dreary;
Despite,
I’ve got to sail through the storms.

With him,
Joy was abound
With him,
Home was a person not place
Without,
Home’s just four walled;
Despite,
I’ve got to put on a strong face.

With him,
I was complete
Without,
There’s a bullet hole in my heart
Despite,
I’ve got to keep living;
With him,
I learnt dark will give way to light
Always… Eventually.

The above image is courtesy of Pinterest

When love leaves-

When love leaves-

Ŵhen love leaves, 

Silence becomes defeaning,

You see things, all too clearly

That happy couple holding hands,

 It takes you back- back- to a time when 

Sweet words and morning jokes were a norm

When fights didn’t mean the end but, 

One of those things that happen.

Until, the unannounced 

Arrives- death 

And love has to leave. 

I’d like to turn this into a longer poem, but it’s late at night and I’m drinking tea, thinking of sleep and dreading another morning class tomorrow. 🙂

If love was enough-

If love was enough-

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I believe the worst part of it all is wishing love in itself was enough, but knowing it’s not. Knowing, the same the way I know, even though the sun rises each day, it doesn’t mean it’s rays will illuminate the dark within; knowing although the storm doesn’t last forever, it is no guarantee that the destruction the storm leaves wouldn’t . In the same way, I know with certainty and clarity, without any reservations or second thoughts, that I love with you everything I’ve got, with everything I have to offer and more- but It still, would not be enough….

The above image is courtesy of Favim.com

Don’t fall in Love with me-

Don’t fall in Love with me-

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Don’t fall in love with me she said-
I shine too bright,
I burn too fast,
My embers and flames,
Are tortuous beyond sight;
Don’t fall in love with me she said-
I am jagged at the edges,
Holed in the middle,
All shades of dark surround me,
My smile would be your nightmare.
Don’t fall in love with me she said-
My smile would trap your frail heart,
And I’ll leave you hanging,
It’s a curse, it’s the truth,
I’m a hard face to get rid off;

And fall in love with her he did-
You’re tough, I’m tougher
You’re scarred, I’m broken
You’re grey, I’m a dark vault
Your nightmares would be appealing.
And fall in love with her he did-
It’s a curse, it’s the truth
I’d love to Marry you;
If you do, leave me hanging,
It’d be a pleasure to be left
Hanging by you.

The above image is courtesy of : Tumblr.com  Inspired by the above quote. 

I Trusted you-

I Trusted you-

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The truth is- it’s not love that screwed me over; a repressed memory which surfaced turning my life upside down; or a cry for help gone unanswered… It was just one thing, trusting you.

Trust me, you’ll say. Each time a doubt crept in me, you’d echo it. Each time my insides churned at your actions, you’d utter those two words.

Trust me… and I trusted you. More than my self, more than my gut instinct. Over any friend, family, outsider, I trusted you! How could I not. You put a ring on my finger and a baby in my womb. How could I not trust the one I considered half of me, “my better half”, we were starting a family together- I trusted you.

I should have trusted the way your eyes wandered off each time we were out together; I should have trusted the way your nose flared and your fists battled with the walls; I should have trusted the “but” buzzing in my head when it was time to say I do. I didn’t, and the should haves are eating at what’s left of my soul.

Trust me, you’ll say. And I did, when I should have trusted in the creator , the one who made you from dust. Now, I know better than to take your words for more than they truly are- a grain of salt.

The above Image is courtesy of Lovethispic.com