Plagued with questions one night while Reading, I fell asleep, spiralling quickly In the darkness of my own mind. In my Dream I saw I was at my grandmother’s Place, standing listening to someone Beating the door in the back of the house. Located on one end of the bungalow, this Door was situated right under a huge Banyan tree and had always seemed Very spooky to me.
I moved towards the sound involuntarily And just as I was about to open the Locked door, I heard a low , strange growl “You, you’re what I want”. It was not a Human voice. It was something completely Different, I knew instinctively in my heart. The hair on my body stood up inspite of The weather being quite warm. I’d only Heard of demons and unearthly Paranormal beings until that day, but I Was sure that this was something evil. It had come in search of a soul, my soul.
I froze and in my inability to move, kept Listening to the incessant pounding On the door in front of me. It apparently Couldn’t get in without me inviting it in. All that separated me and inevitability Was a wooden door. It was pulled and Kept rattling for a long time. Once out Of my daydream like state, I put both My hands on the door, refusing to relent.
I could hear the growling from the Other side. A faceless, nameless danger Loomed large. Even in my dream I knew, Instinctively that whatever this was it Was potent enough to rid me of my Very soul. I will not give into you, I could Feel the voice from inside say. And so I didn’t.
It was then that my eyes flew open. I was shivering with fright and covered In sweat. Unable to understand why I was So scared of losing myself to something Whose existence I could neither see Nor comprehend but knew was an In ignorable truth. A presence, a possible Demon had been at my door, for me. It was a strange dream and to date Scares me when I think about it.
I was invited to be a part of a fair Which was held on a bright and sunny day A walk into this fair was a stroll Into my forgotten childhood days I carried with me no umbrella as the English do In order to be able to enjoy the afternoon rain And got lost in the happy and joyous revelries In the crowds found myself again
I bought ….. A little box for storing memories Reams of paper for thoughts to be inked A rug to make winters cosy A book of posies to make me think A coffee table book with glossy pages An album to store all my pictures Several pots to house my many plants Along with a book of bygone scriptures A piece of handwoven, embroidered cloth A bunch of chimes to sway in the wind An ancient looking ink pot A mug to down my tea with gold rimmed A handmade sun dried tomato pizza A risotto made with local rice and fish To drink - a nice cool lemonade An exotic looking apple pie dish
Admiring the local artefacts I’d bought After punting in a boat in the nearby lake The day ended on a high as I came home And ate a slice of a very delicious cake Sometimes we lose a part of ourselves But in surprising places, it we regain Every little facet that makes us feel lost Can be eliminated by a walk down the memory lane
Some hurricanes were never meant to be borne For some come out brave, some come out torn Try braving a wave, a gale so prolonged Enough to make grown men forlorn
When words fail comfort and the heart feels shorn And grief and pain feel like prickly thorns A broken spirit hurts more than broken bones Never to be whole again but forever remain torn
Those who shatter, a soul’s death mourn The eyes of the brave shine with the strength of many a storm Never a victim , always a fighter , silent but strong Courage is a badge that is quietly but very proudly worn
Before we watch this Same sunset but being Miles apart and not holding each others hand, Sharing secrets, Having heart to heart conversation, Laughing out loud, Spending precious hours. Let me write poetries And sticked these moments In between the pages to Recall them on every Flip of the pages!
When I look at the mirror, I see the skies clear but opaque because I can't gaze at their stomachs ; I hate clouds as they sometimes cover the bright shades of sun and affective shades of moon ; sometime the sky becomes grey and often I hate grey because grey symbolises grief and I want to vomit those griefs I want to make them out from my chalice but they perch on the saucer and look at me with their pitiful eyes and they syllabify inside me to emerge as a sonnet of silence and solitude but I fail as a sonneteer.
When I look into the mirror I see the Breathlessness of the ball of flesh attired with red who sings to console the solitude by making a lullaby.... who doesn't know the starting and final line but still keeps reciting.
When I look into the mirror I see searching of eyes for the known face who will never be back but still waits keeping a dream open tears that swims forward and backward for catastrophic slap by the life..
When I look into the mirror I see the fake blush of scary cheeks who smiles to wrap the quivering of dry lips under the blanket to stifle the neck of emotion from the outer space..
I don't know what's wrong with my mirror, it never calls me beautiful or lovely. Maybe something is wrong with my wall I need to change my life soon. I could go house shoping for a new brain, because mine is always cynical and paranoid.
Yeah! This sums up my feelings, but then again it's not real, I'm authoring my narrative that takes shape with every passing minute. Sometimes it worth listening, other times it's just trash.