Well, this is just an incident i would love to share with you all. Thankyou for reading :).
I’ve always had this passion for football, maybe much more than the boys who play better than me in the park everyday. Even after being told by practically everyone not to go play with them, i picked up myself rather confidently hoping no one would notice the scared and awkward girl behind that tough wall. Not hard to guess, they said they dont play with girls. That actually hit hard on my esteem, bit quite unbashed i tried my best to fit in. I fell, and picked up myself without complaining. Everyone would make fun of me, constantly reminding me i dont belong here. Some of the boys did realise my love for the game was bigger than my ego and had no other choice but to pass the ball occasionally.
Nothing has changed; i still fight everyday, i still fall, help myself, get occasional passes and high-fives, but now the boys are used to my presence and i am used to their attitude.
Now i’m the only girl they would play with and wait for to come down in the same confident way everyday.
When you finally leave
Just tell me
And I promise, that I won’t cry.
And I promise I won’t ask you to stay for a while.
Ill wash my old bed sheets
so that they don’t smell like you anymore.
I will clean my door of your footsteps,
my lips of your taste;
I will throw away your clothes
and make room, open my curtains
for the world outside.
And I’ll do everything I can to forget you.
But when someday,
my morning coffee
reminds me of your eyes;
someday when I take my medicines on time,
remembering your scoldings.
When someday the innocence of a child
or the Waves of an Ocean
thunders, or soft breeze, or the wild
remind me of you
one day when I realize
in my habits, I have yours too
my words sound like you
and after you I never really felt at home anywhere
maybe, just maybe
Ill long for you
I don’t feel emotions
I weave poetries
Instead of tears
Words fall out of me.
When my heart is broken
I hold it with rhymes and syllables
I don’t write poems
They roll out of my tongue with ease.
In the waging war
Before picking up the sword
My fingers reach for ink
Before the enemy, I sing war songs.
In the face of defeat
Instead of calling out for pleads
My heart spills out my fears, courage, tribulations
By screaming poetries.
To love, I whisper
Compliments woven in free verses
I admire love, beauty, happiness, pain
With metaphors and similies
I don’t write to express
I am made of poetries.
Image from Pinterest
And now, everybody wants to become a poet.
They say, “oh, it’s mere play of words!”
No darling, words play with you.
Filthy, corrupted yet somehow
It’s not play,
Anything but play.
Anything but choosing the best words and weaving into a rhyme
I’m not telling you to stop trying;
But, till the time spilling out words
Doesn’t set you free
And doesn’t become a necessity
Til the time you can’t find your pain, your agony
Hiding in them, beautifully
Till the time you don’t bleed with your words
And they don’t mar you with ecstacy
Don’t call yourself a poet.
You look like a dream to me.
So fragile, I fear you’ll
Spill like a hundred pearls
If I hold you too close
you look like a dream to me.
you look like my childhood
lost amidst the chaos until I found you
and found it again
you feel like all my beautiful childhood memories.
You look like happiness
laughing, throwing your head back, so carefree
smiling, crinkling your nose;
and even crying,
your head on my chest
letting go of all the things,
you look like happiness to me.
You feel like home
I run back to, every time
a place where I feel safe and loved and free.
You are not all the things that I had ever wanted
but all the beautiful things
I had lost
coming back to me.
I set up a table
to have a discussion
And invited everyone
Beggars, vagabonds, billionaires
Anyone who could answer my questions
I wanted to know what happiness was.
I looked up in every dictionary
every poem, song, picture
empty words filled my head
my heart filled with none
I looked around tired and empty
I looked around hollow eyes and fake Smiles
Just then, a little girl
came up to me
I asked her the same question
In her innocence she couldn’t understand
why would someone ask what is happiness?
she laughed at me innocently
And in her smile, in her laughter, I found all my answers.
That’s exactly what it is. So far, 2017 has been a year of surprises, realisations and a hell lot of desperate poems.
Plus, I am wayyy irregular with my blog. I am sorry sweeties ;-;
I was shuffling through my poems, and found this single decent one. ;-;
Of all the people in the room I’m undoubtedly the biggest admirer of life
isn’t there a beauty in everything around me;
even the way we fall
The way we smile in despair?
the way we talk
lies rolling out of our tongue
the way we cry;
Aren’t we pretty when we cry?
arent we mesmerizing when we try
to frantically hide in our little cages?
Aren’t scars beautiful;
and prisons wonderful
to be in?
I can never get enough of you, sadness
Ill come back misery, to admire your beauty
Will you spare me for a while if I tell you I’m just tired of everything around me?
You hurt me
I let you in
I let you touch
my bare skin
and regret it
You laugh at me
and your smile
oh! Your smile
it heals me.
I take your indifference
and smile that follows
as my duty, to preserve it
You know me
you know I have a
of never giving up on you.