Ivy

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As I settle down in my heavy, cosy quilt this chilly winter night,

I picture Her again,

A unique, rare beauty…. Quaint.

She was a saxophone in a sea of trumpets

She had traveled to our land from the mystic deserts of Egypt,

And had an aura about her that was hard to decrypt.

She was the rhythm of her gait, the giggles of her anklets,

She had the power to charm people, and capture their attention for a while,

And those eyes, oh! Those twinkling gems that can beguile,

Anyone brave enough to meet her gaze,

Would surely be stunned for a few moments, struggling for composure in a daze.

Her perfectly smooth and shiny rare red hair,

That she would tend to several times a day with care,

Was surely a matter of envy,

Such was the beauty of our dear Ivy,

But well it was all the same,

Her arrogant nature was stubborn and sticky like her name.

“Maybe I am not a cat person afterall”, her master said.

And threw out poor Ivy and got a dog instead.

Echos

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I slowly sow my eyelids shut, and feel them flutter,
What does she want now? My mind mutters.
An escape, an adventure, something exciting and new, I report
Oh, so the usual? My mind retorts.
Let’s think about the studies you have been ignoring, now That would be an adventure.
The heart chimed in, but that is likely to lead to seizure!
I laugh at the two,
And ask indulgently, so what are we to do?
Heart says, let’s hover over the memories and see what we find
I am not entertaining yet another walk down that lane! Refused the mind.
With a confident look the heart said, taking a trip together is the safest bet,
With a smug smirk, the mind said, I don’t think we’re there yet.
Besides, you are still bleeding, heart.. said the brain.
Wherever you run, you cannot escape the pain.
Let’s cuddle with heart? I asked them, with hesitance,
They looked at me then at each other and I faced no resistance.

Read on

She turned round and round in front of the mirror, admiring the sequin dress that hugged her fragile frame,
she ignored him calling out to her, repeatedly saying her name.
she instead looked at the nightstand and smiled at the pendant he bought her last night,
he enjoyed his women sparkling, she mused, sparkling and bright.
she opened her wardrobe, and counted. 61, 61 different dresses for each time,
61 for the 3 months that they had been married. 61 times, she thought and chuckled.
From the corner of her eye, she spied his reflection, he called out to her again,
with a naughty smile, she looked away, he called out again, this time louder, but in vain.
she lightly touched the bruises from last night, the bruises and the bump on her head,
she recalled, “after a while, it stops hurting”, he had said.
every morning he would only recall it as light tapping, and accuse her of being too delicate,
she lightly touched her swollen lower lip, where her teeth dug, to keep herself from screaming, while she waited for him to be satiated.
“Scream, and I will really give you something to scream about”
she thought, shaking her head, must do that to keep the screams from going out.
she then turned her head to the cake, she counted, only 10 candles remained of the initial 15,
her name smudged in the pink and green cream,
she kept from smiling, her lips hurt. this time she looked right at him,
pudgy mush tub of lard of a man, she thought to herself. she tilted her head at an angle and gave him her innocent doll like look,
“are we almost done here?” a voice called from inside the house,
she twirled around in her pretty skirt with a flourish,
“I almost feel bad in doing this, the dresses he bought me are all so pretty!”
“He took the longest, and some of the damage he’s done may put us out of business for months”, came the reply. “Let’s please wrap up and get out?”
“Alright” she said and skipped over to his naked body on the floor, “I know you loved Lolita, your image preceded you, you were almost too easy.”
“Gia, please”, he called out again, “sh sh sh” she said, slowly shaking her head, and lightly touched his lips with her finger, ” after a while, it really will stop hurting” she said, and severed his head in a clean stroke.
“you done with the loot?” she called out to her sister. “yes.”

She looked down at Mr. Patel, and said, “We got a lot more than we had planned for, this time.”

Darling

There is comfort and love, kindness that you cannot believe,
altruism of another realm, and warmth too.. only if you are ready to receive.
dear love just hold on, for your fears are only a mirage,
my vision for us is beyond large.
for with you, forever is too short
that is why my love, i feel utterly distraught
for every second that you are mine, is like a lifetime, but a lifetime is too less
for when i hold you near me, i only wish that you could see,
see through my eyes and it would all be so clear
your beauty reflected in my tear.
your rhythm reflected in my voice,
us getting lost in that lovely white noise.
it is surreal to be swayed by the sound of someone’s name,
how someone’s radiance, can put candles to shame,
how someone’s touch can make ripples on the skin,
how someone’s scent can make the head swim.
darling a lifetime is not enough but i will do my best,
to remind you everyday of how fortunate is my fate,
to have found the perfect mate.

Some dreaming

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I feel inspired today, 
Why, you ask? I don’t know. 
But, I feel inspired. 
To do what, you ask? Well, anything, and everything. 
I want to run really fast, throwing my hands in the air, blood coloring my face, adrenalin rushing through me, and all the while still hear the wind-chimes making soft sweet music, hanging in the balcony of the busy banker, who makes so much money and yet has not had time in three days to kiss his little girl good morning, or good night, to tuck her into bed. 
She waits. 
I want to burst into a billion tiny pieces, into the tiniest form of my existence and fall like rain from the sky, light rain.. supple and tender on the forehead of the mother cradling her baby in her ever so careful arms, singing a lullaby, so loving, so tender, the baby falls asleep. Her mind wanders, over the soft breaths sighs of her precious baby as he sleeps, she is now thinking about the five other gifts of life. She thinks about the dreams unfulfilled, the aspirations left undone, the life left unlived. 
She wonders. 
I want to disappear into the dark shadows, and follow that mysterious man next-door, follow his shadow to that dark place he goes to, in his head, out of his head, in the night, when he shot the man, dragged him away, chopped him and disposed him away, it’s his job. He dreams of riches, and considers himself a good man. He feeds his wife and children, he runs a business. He looks at me, his neighbour, and feels irritated. He is a good man, he is just doing his job, why less respect for him? 
He ponders. 
I want the hair on my body to shoot out leaves and my legs to shoot up like tree trunks, they take me high up, among the stars… no tree grows that high, you say… but I’ll explain the science of it another day. With my head up in the clouds, I hear my mother’s yelling pleas to come eat my dinner but there’s birds on my branches, playing with the stars that sit like dew on my leaves. How do I stop that, I ask? How do I stop dreaming? But mother’s worried about my growling tummy, she’s still there on the ground, while my head’s in the clouds. 
She worries. 
I want to dissolve into my bath water, blue and wet, like the ink in that fountain pen. I want to flow on her paper, like paint, become a tree, a bird, the ocean, the sky, a dog… her dog, she loves him… but he reminds her of the man that stole best years of her life. Somtimes she must look away, she can’t bear it. She remembers, she hears him coming, only to hear him go away again. She wishes it turned out differently, that the brush had painted out different shapes, faces, situations, colors, so she paints her dreams, her life, different lives she lives in her dreams every night. 
She wishes. 
I want to be me, as I wait, wonder, ponder, worry and wish. I want to blend into sidelines and give way to the Tornado when it comes, disperse into something tiny to let the wind blow things into their own place. I want to watch, in the background, as water, wind, earth, life or fire, how the whirlpool does it’s job. I want to live another life, while the divine fixes mine, and then come meet myself like an old friend, when life allows me. 

Land of No Justice

I don’t know if justice will ever be served,

In a land whose history leaves me unnerved,

Fables and history alike,

weaken the daughter with every word and praise the son as a knight.

Justice shall not be showered,

On this land of corrupt higher power,

That cast away Medusa and Maleficent as monsters.

I want snakes on my head and gaze that turns the profane into stone,

The gift from mother Athena to a withering daughter,

Was tainted as an unjust punishment for Poseidon’s slaughter,

I too, would have vowed to slay the one who took my wings away,

I would make him suffer enormously till helpless in front of me he lay.

So I kick these twisted versions that color hideous the one who falls prey,

And if monstrosity is what it takes to protect my soul,

trust me, I’m not afraid to slay.