- Books, Literature, and Writing
Poems Written Back In The Day When I Was Too Shy to Share...
My Old Poem Book
While rummaging through some old things with the intention to get rid of stuff no longer needed, I came across an old note book. It was my trusty note book, which contains poems written by me quite some time ago. Flicking through it brought back many memories and reading it was like being in a mini time machine. I remembered how shy I was about showing people my writing, and realized that most of these poems have never been read.
So here are some poems from my old note book.
Sea of Emotions
In a veil of troubles, beauty of the sea
In the depth of blue-grey waters, coral in abundance
In the yellow sun-light, expectations of the moon, surrounded in darkness
In the centre of true knowledge questions and despondent worries
In the brief reality of moments endless colours, stars and omens
In realms of human ties, heart felt highs and bright blue skies
All Pink and Pretty
She’s pink and beautiful and lovely, she walks and talks, she’s very bubbly.She wears the sunshine on her heart, just push a button and she’ll start;To try and find a ray that burns away the pain that seems to always stay.
She’s pink and beautiful and red, with crazy messed up thoughts within her head.She’s flowery and soft and sweet, she’s rotten, wormed and eaten in defeat.
She’s walked and talked and loved and been, still for a second she’s not seen, the ugliness within.
She’s red and pink, disguise of black, she’s always ready to attack; She’s lost and lovely full of lies, a thorny rose with spikes.
She lurks into the caged, trapped her, she tries to stop and think and in a second as she blinks, a loop of circles going round, a big bright ugliness she found.
A big humongous ugly demon, with teeth like knives and eyes of steel, a scrunched up peace of paper of a love note, a loss of hope.
I Am Peculiar As You
I am particular, peculiar am I as you, complex and monotonous, square and hexagon, divided and secluded in round about boxes that some look through and see me as captured even though the box says “FREE”.
Some have big eyes, trying to look through small gaps and others small captured eyes, me arms waving; who said you could look anyway?
Curious as you may be you might never
Written For an Old Friend
Always on the move, a path that seems to stop and start in
circular motions, continuous infinite steps.
I wonder where you are going.
Surrounded by intensity, you wonder, pondering questions
Discovering fragmented insights…
You feel separate, but we share; in words, in silence, in wine
Despite the full nothingness containing everything that surrounds us.
Beauty within Minds
Infinite patterns of collective emotions, connected persons with
False ideals of ego devotions- humanity
There is no need to bridge our seemingly separate worlds
The sameness exists in this small one; the one that we share
The one that we wonder the questions we ponder;
Where we sit still, too stuck to move,
too scared to stop moving.
Too happy to feel empty,
Too sad to feel full and content;
But there is always infinite beauty
A straight flat line, faint and colourless,
black and monotonous, quietly sad,
distant and past nothingness surrounds and
Everything is hollow...
The morning breeze, cold with my tremor, as
I wake up, but still dream of your touch...
You absence pushes and pulls me, opens and
closes me, tears and fills me,
it bruises me...
Your voice echoes, follows me, tenderly
briefly cures me, caressing me,
wispering my tears, burning and suffocating me...
Your missing warmth, lost in an unknown
place, the space that holds me, shaking and shivering,
Where time is senseless, spiralling,
endlessly trapped in a second....