Monday, 24 November 2014

Covered in mud from head to toe
I don’t like the way I look anymore
So messed up, so dirty, so gross
No, I don’t like this feeling anymore

It’s a dream, I know
It’s out of control, I know
It isn’t real, I guess
But I just don’t like this mess
Insects are crawling
Mosquitoes all around
It itches so bad
And yet somehow
I can’t get myself to wake up

Then all of a sudden
In this crazy dream
Someone arrives and walks up to me
It’s the mud doctor, I believe

To fix me, to get rid of the mud
Takes me hand, and starts to dig it out
Digs in deep, does the best he could
Digs too deep, more than he should
I look at my hand
It’s horrifying
I look again
It’s terrifying
There is no skin, no blood
I have no body
I am the mud.

Keep stalking him till the liberating day
When you realize that you’re okay with not knowing
About his statuses and who they were written for,
When he last came online and who he spoke to.
Keep following his steps
Between the pillars of Facebook and Whatsapp
To see if he has left even the slightest footprint of his thoughts
On the vast sand of social media.

And when you find those footprints
Dig deep till you find shells, and bones, and bottle caps
Keep looking for that one item of yours
That once belonged to you
The one that you gifted to him
The item that no longer knows
Who it belongs to.

I wonder if it would help if I knew how you kiss
And your favorite place to kiss,
I want to know how you’d hold a girl
when you realize you love her;
And how your body burns in her presence;
I've tried to imagine your smile when you see her,
And how your breathing slows down
when you hug her tight;
I imagine your eyes when you look at her
And all the things that must be going on in your mind.

I wonder if it would help if I knew,
Because I just can’t stop thinking about you.

Tuesday, 11 November 2014

The Kind of Person You Should Fall in Love With

Fall in love with a person who is quiet
Someone you’ve never spoken to
And from the corner of your eyes you can make him
Anyone you want him to be.

The steps are simple
I will walk you through them-
Find a face you like, a height of your choice
But never ever have a word with him
Though it’s okay if you think about his voice,
And when you chance upon a conversation centered around him, quietly walk away;
Imagine him listening to your favorite songs
Dancing alone as he cleans his room;
Close your eyes and see him lying down on the grass
Staring at the stars the way you do;
You can choose whether he’ll be gentle or rough-
Any way you’d like him to be;
You can feed him with all the right words,
All the beautiful acts of love,
All the strengths and weaknesses you can bear to adore;
Think of his family the kind you would like
And place him in a hometown you’ve always wanted to go.

Fall in love with someone you’ve never spoken to
And every man can be your perfect man;
But darling, don’t come crying to me
When you speak with him for the first time.
The Room

On the pages of the accidental poetry notebook
Is a poem about a room, the one that makes the poet incredibly happy
For every day she finds pieces of herself in it
And revels in the chaos that the room shows her to be

But now that she has gone away
The room feels like something else to her
For every time she returns to it, it seems bigger and older
Reminds her of days that seem way back in the past
And all her favorite things belong somewhere else now
The stories she left behind are now covered in dust
And that always makes her sneeze
Sleep comes with great difficulty at night.

She can’t decide who is to be blamed
For the way she has changed,
Or for how the room has hardly changed at all
It still looks at her as the person she used to be
And every time she leaves, she whispers
this room no longer belongs to me.

Tuesday, 4 November 2014

For a while now I've wanted
For a writer to fall in love with me
For I've always thought of myself as the perfect subject for poetry,
so that I could search for my fingerprints
In the words that he writes.

I've also wanted since a while
For a painter to see the beauty in me
I know I don’t have the perfect body
But I've wished to see a lover put down on a canvas
How love makes his lover look like the most beautiful person in the world.

I've wanted a singer to sing for me
All the songs that melt my heart;

But all I have is you
You, the person who repeats the same things in his letters again and again
You, even the hearts you make look disfigured
You, you know no words to the songs, let alone the tunes
But on days when I feel uprooted, lost, and alone
You, all you do is make me feel like home.

This is my response to a beautiful poem by Kamala Das titled The Looking Glass. You can read the original here-

The Looking Glass: A Response

Getting a man to love you is easy
But ask yourself first if you are willing to love him
back. Don’t stand nude before the glass with him
don’t let him see himself the stronger one
when you know that in your softness and youth
you can break him when you leave. Question your
infatuation. Notice the imperfection
Of his ways, his body weakening as he looks
at you, the shy walk across the room,
Dropping hints, and the timid way in which he
shows you his penis. All the gross details that might
make you fall out of love with him. Offer him your worst,
offer him what makes you who you are, the stink of
your longings, the burden of anger between the breasts,
The monthly stab of menstrual blood, and all your
Endless sorrows. Oh yes, getting
A man to love is easy, but living
With him afterwards may have to be
Faced. A living without love when you move
Around, meeting strangers, with your eyes that
keep searching, with ears that keep listening to new voices
wondering how they would sound when they say your name and your
Body which now longs for a new touch
to bring it to life, as it now stands hardened and aloof.