#25. Unconscious doodles

#25. Unconscious doodles

Before, I hated drawing.

I despised artists; I thought art was a waste of time.

I mean, a “painting” wish some red streaks and splashes becomes famous?

For what, like those red streaks were somewhat very purposeful?

Phshhhhh. Puh’lease. Like it matters.

But now, I can’t stop my pencil from moving about.

From restaurant paper napkins to exam sheets,

everything was covered in hearts.

all kinds of hearts, filled, empty.

Coloured, patterned.

Ends touching.

Ends hollow.

It was all because of this one artist that I grew up with,

who taught me, unintentionally, that all people,

all hearts, collectively, individually

are pieces of art

when brought together, makes up the universe.

Something new.

This is the Spring Palette for the Heart, by Parvathi and Me.

 

 

#18. White Washed Dreams

“Science is the best option for you!”

“You like biology? Medicine it is!”

“Computer science in engineering will fetch a job with an attractive salary and a beautiful girl!”

Little did they know,

that with each passing day,

the music stopped playing

and movements stopped. 

The paints stopped mixing,

and the canvases remained blank.

The ink in the pen

dried up

and so did the soul

inside. 

I am so conflicted with my future right now. I had to get it out. No one has forced me to study anything, but the expectations are little suffocating.

#5. Late Night Vices

#5. Late Night Vices

I slowly tip-toe around the coffee table

making sure I don’t hit my little toe

at the table leg and scream out loud, 

waking the entire Home. 

I sneak towards the kitchen, eyeing the fridge.

I look around, making sure no one is

up and about at this late hour,

and I open the freezer on top. 

I grab the pack and close the door

when I hear a gasp.

I turn round on my heels and seeing you

relieves my tension of being caught. 

“You too?” I whisper?

You simply nod, with a calm expression.

I take two spoons out of the drawer

and beckon you forward with one. 

You oblige; we slide down next to each other,

talking silently about the secrets of the universe,

while unconsciously taking turns in

digging our spoons in the large

tub of Choco Xcess.  

I think this is my favourite poem that I’ve ever written so far!

This poem is inspired by the book, The Problem With Forever by Jennifer L Armentrout. 

#4. What we reap

#4. What we reap

The saying goes,

“You reap what you sow,”

but then,

why do I reap disappointment when

all I’ve done is my best?

Why do I reap depression when

I’ve made others happy?

Why do I reap more struggle just when I’ve helped

myself out of dark, thorny forests?

Why

why do I reap cold stares, dripping with hatred,

when all I’ve done is love?

You should check my friend at Queen Talks. Her response to this prompt is hilarious! You’ll love it!

#8: The devil in my coffee cup

#8: The devil in my coffee cup

This is personal.

I have seen a lot of people going away from their homes and living a new life in a whole new country. I am absolutely okay with that, but what pains me is the fact that they forget they roots. And for me, wherever I go, filter coffee will always be a reminder of the home that I’m always welcomed to.

This is for all the people out there who have forgotten their roots and homes. Home isn’t always bad.

hqdefault

8:00 AM- an espresso, no sugar. All bitter. 

It wakes me up, unlike your voice which just lures me back to sleep.

11:00 AM coffee break- a latte, from the coffee machine in the office.

To prevent my teeth from getting stained, and to take a break from the strenuous work.

3:00 PM- a Mocha.

For the love of chocolate and to appease my sugar craving.

6:00 PM- another espresso. This one with sugar.

To keep me up and going and I wrap up my day.

8:00 PM: Filter coffee.

To keep me tethered to my roots.