myrandompoems

//I miss it there

The place I called home

I long to be back there

The place where I never felt forlorn

I yearn to be there

Where I felt like the devil, with dangerously large horns.

I wanna go back

To the place where my mother would make food, that I would seldom spare

Where being worried was extremely rare

I am eager to go back to the place

From which I never really moved on

To the place where I sang a happy song

I want to go back

To where I am never alone

I crave to go back to the place

That I still call home//

//I saw her expression As her eyes sparkled

I saw through the fake smile she had put on

For her eyes, they had sang many a sad song

Her eyes, they looked like the night sky

But the type you get before a thunderstorm

Her eyes, they were in ways transparent

But what I saw was not that apparent

It was not something you could guess in a glance

It was something that put you in a trance

The way she tucked her hair behind her ears

The way her eyes looked weary for her years

Her eyes, they were a masterpiece

They shouted so much, but she spoke the least

They wanted to be heard, so much they sought

They yearned for attention, which she finally got

Her eyes they were a gateway to her soul

A one that survived a hurricane, but had a gaping hole

I looked at her expression, as her eyes sparkled

I now understood the fake smile she had put on

For her eyes, they had sang many a sad song

But this song wasn't finished

This one, was long.//

She's walking. And as she's walking down the street, you slow down your car and roll down the windows as she quickens her pace and closes out your relentless cat calling.

You see, that cat calling is driving here crazy from inside , it's driving her to insanity

That car slowing down behind her makes her hope that you're going to show her humanity, but you don't.

Instead you shout and hoot and laugh and giggle while your friends in the back wriggle

With excitement.

She wipes her tears, but you can't see that because all you can see is the length of her dress.

She wipes the sweat off of her brow, but instead you look at her legs

, don't take into account that shes in stress, and now you're arms, they slightly press because you've gotten out of your car after looking at her steps

that were walking away from you .

You're ego gets offended. (Pause)

You're masculinity is hurt

but that's not what she intended.

You're mentality is such that it does not allow you to feel compassion

, you're bringing up is such that it taught you not to allow freedom of fashion

You're eyes are such that they're burning up with pride

And as her feelings you put aside

You commit the crime

In the backseat of your car , that now has bloodstains

And every time you hurt her is one more time her soul pains

Because her body has already been slain

and her mind is too numb to be sustained...(pause)

She gives up. And so do you. That was her last battle cry

You now have a smerk on your face that's sly

You don't care about her

you dump her body outside and at her youswear

The others on the street they stare

As her body shuts down and is paralysed

She can't move she can't talk she can't call for help

All she can let out is a twentieth of a Yelp

She can't help it if her breath smells

But even as she covers her mouth in disguts

You're still enjoying the feeling of lust

You go back to your loving wife and do not tell her of this

All you do when she asks where you've been for so long, is hiss

While that girl lays on the street,

The last ounce if her soul is released

She is finally at peace

She's cut her leash

That had bound her to stay in this nightmare of a place

Now she is somewhere that she doesn't have to race.

Not with cars, or with people or with time

Your catcalling she no more has to face.

Now she will never quicken her pace.

It was a cold Novembers morning.

It had just snowed, and there was a slight mist and dullness in the air.

She was sitting on the rusted park bench.

The moss had covered all of the planks now, and it had so many memories.

She pictured herself playing in the open field, and checking to see if her mother was sitting on the bench paying attention to her.

Her thoughts then transcended to her first picnic and spilling juice on the very same bench.

Her hand trailed to the stain, unconsciously.

She then thought about her first kiss.

The butterflies filling her stomach.

She pictured coming here with her grandmother and resting her head peacefully on her lap as she read a book to her.

And then when she passed away, how she came to console herself and how the tears fell drop by drop and filled the cracks in the wooden planks.

Later on when her friends came there drunk one night, and just as she was about to fall, the park bench gave her balance.

As she fell on it, it held her, as if her mother were there.

And then when her loved ones passed on , one by one...oh how she longed to be with them.

But sitting on this park bench felt like being with them .

As if it were a part of her life.

Ready to catch her when she falls.

The next day, she wasn't there.

Neither the next day nor the next week or month or year.

As the dark clouds looked over the park bench, they suddenly gave way and rain fell, as if it were the tears of the park bench itself.

After the sun came out, a little girl came and sat on the park bench.

And it cradled her as she was left alone by her friends and as she cried, the park bench gave itself hope.

Hope of moving on. Hope of letting go...

The caterpillar, oh how it moved.

It pranced, from here to there.

Almost like a ballerina, almost...

 

The caterpillar, it carried me away.

It took me to a land of wonders, where in the wind I could sway

Where I almost forgot about my worries....almost...

 

The caterpillar, how it listened,

It was a friend when I needed it to be,

All of my problems it could see

Like me all it could do was plead

and it almost looked as if it understood what I said....almost...

 

The caterpillar, oh how it spoke.

It gave me advice as if it were a saint

It sounded almost like my mother, almost...

 

The caterpillar oh how it ran.

Away from all the fears and agony.

Away from the tensions of the world, the hatred and despise

How it galloped away as if a horse

How it almost looked like me when I was about to run away...

Almost.

 

The caterpillars, oh how it changed.

Transformed into something different that was more appealing to the eye

It almost reminded me of myself...almost

He opened his laptop

For the last time

His phone went ping and his laptop looked like a collage of notifications

He scrolled through them and a teat fell on the mousepad

He wasnt really angry or sad, just ...fed up.

He tried to type a reply, but his hands couldn't move,

It was like he was free falling but without a parachute.

He turned of his laptop, and shut it down

Now in his room there was not a sound

He took a pen and wrote things, you could never imagine

He wrote down good things and even the sins

He could still hear his parents banging on the door

But this time, when they came in, they found him on the floor

The pressure was too much

And social media sucked

His parents screamed and cried and shouted

But as this was India, outsiders just pouted

They didn't care about what had just happened

They went on with their work like nothing had happened

His parents and friends although, were not the same

After that day, the day that made their hearts pain

They opened his laptop

For the last time

His phone went ping and his laptop looked like a collage of notifications

They scrolled through them and tears fell on the mouse-pad

They weren't really angry or sad, just ...fed up.

They tried to type a reply, but their hands couldn't move,

It was like they were free falling but without a parachute.

Now all they could do was stand irresolute

I slammed the door, but that was all I could do.

I sat down and contemplated.

I looked outside of my window, and everything looked still.

Almost the opposite to the feelings raging inside me, the hurricanes of anger and the tsunamis of disappointment left me in agony...

I was helpless.

That's when I saw it.

The green scarf;My safe Haven .

I draped it across the table, to make a sort of...fort?

I scavaged around for my pack of biscuits.

I found it under my clothes in the top drawer .

I layed each one on the bar underneath the plastic study table.

I sit underneath the table and cover the only way of sunlight to come in with the green scarf.

I think mother will be upset because this is her favorite green shawl.

But when she knocks on my bedroom door like she always does, I don't feel a pang of anxiousness.

In fact, the knock sounds calm and understanding.

She walks in gracefully;her usual style, and sits next to me.

Doesn't say anything, just...puts her arm around me.

Her perfume comforts me and her warmth makes me feel even better .

We sit there, for the next hour or two.

After a while, we put up fairy lights, and it feels like a dream.

Gulping down ounces of orange juice, eating Jim jams and talking about doctor who.

The best feeling on this Earth . Hard to explain, but all of it together felt like a fairy tale.

A fairy tale that could never be true again after the accident.

As the glass fogged up and the rain poured down, I felt the most childish I've felt in a long time.

The middle grader persona has it's tolls and it's restrictions, meaning you cannot draw on fogged up windows.

But this one.

It had the perfect timing.

The bus was not silent, but it had murmurs, that filled the air with a certain familiar warmth.

The little girls giggles reminded me of my own when I was six.

The window looked at me curiously, as if asking me ,' what's wrong in drawing on me? Whats wrong in being childish'.

It lured me towards it, and my hand touched the window pane.

I drew as if instinctively, a ballerina, as I had done when I was in year 1 .

The rain continued to pour down, and I watched as the drops glided down the large window as if skateboarding.

But oh! How gracefully one of them glided. On it's path, it joined with another.

It greeted the other as if old friends and continued on it's path, now somewhat merged with the second.

It didn't do much else, just dance from here to there, until it reached the window ledge, where it perched it's self precautiously.

And continued to do so until school was just around the corner, at which point it became depressed with the boredom that surrounded it, and said au reviour to it's friend.

It seprated itself, and made its way down and down in a spiral.

I don't know what happened after that .

Whether it saw anything fun that caught it's attention.

But I loved every part of it's journey . The innocence and childishness filled in it .

How I longed to be that carefree now...

The wind blew past me, as I looked out the window to the ever-changing horizon .

The sun was setting and amidst the sound of the cars wheels turning,

the radio playing in the background and the birds chirping ,

the Amber spread and raged across the sky like a forest fire

It engulphed the light blue so rapidly that it left no time for the former to run.

All that it tried, the Amber would not stop, until in a moment, the birds chirping

the radio playing in the background it's melancholy tune

and the cars wheels noise made a perfect symphony.

It all seemed to fit together.

I looked at everything with such curiosity and attention , that I almost understood.

Almost.

I almost understood that everything has it's importance. I took a step back and looked at everything until suddenly, everything plunged into darkness.

The fairy lights came on one by one as if they had their cues and were making their entrance on the dance stage.

One by one.

It was the prettiest picture I had ever seen.

The wind blew past me , as I looked out the window, to the silent horizon. The sun had set , and the birds had fallen asleep.

Now there were car horns beeping and the radio played music that awoke me.

As nature was on the verge of a deep slumber, the night life was just beginning....

Falling asleep, one of the hardest things on this Earth!

Probably even harder than child birth

A dangerous stunt you should never try at home

Especially when you’re all alone

Thinking about monsters in the dark

With a humped up back much like the curvature of an arc

Yes, it is a very tough thing to do

Especially when you’ve got to go to the loo!

After you’ve told your mum the last excuse

And then you come up with this one, and she doesn’t think it’s true!

She gives you a lecture on the boy who cried wolf

And tries to get you to fall asleep by reading a book

That usually has stories about the tiny little fairies

That would shrink you down to their size with just one humongous poof!

By this time you know you should give up the acting

Otherwise in the next two minutes your parents will threaten you with

Doctors needles, stomach flues and even spanking!

After one more hour of pretending you don’t need to sleep

You just give in like you’re too exhausted

And then sneakily go into the kitchen to get some candy

After having that you start walking all around the house all jumpily and prancing

You jump up and down a few times and suddenly down you crash!

And your mother and father are leaping for joy

As they have finally completed their mission!

You’re fast asleep in the world of chocolate ice-creams, unicorns and cartoons

Your mother turns out the lights

Quietly creeps out

Relieved she is done for the night

No more chores, no cooking

She too goes to sleep but her mind keeps working and working……