People are like the ocean.
There’s too much of it
and few times it lingers
in your head,
sometimes, in your heart.
It ebbs and flows,
If it clings on to you,
remember that water evaporates
and in the end,
you have only yourself.
If you cling on to the ocean
Don’t be swayed and swept away
The ocean will hurt you
and you cannot hurt it back.
I’m attempting these prompts with Parvathi over at
Queen Talks and these prompts, “ The Lonely Astronaut” were set by Amanda Torroni and Tyler Kent White.
I was heavily inspired by a few things for this poem. I’d had a conversation earlier with Parvathi and part of it was inspired by that. There was a poem in the book Slammed by Colleen Hoover and that poem portrayed the ocean in a negative shade. I’d tried that out. I’m pretty pleased but I’m not sure if I conveyed my feelings so properly as I wanted to.
like waves, people come
and go. they will leave a mark
erasing old ones
but you remember them. on
your skin, your sheets. in your heart.
Oh, I love the word. Spoondrift. Sounds so magical and romantic. I haven’t done justice to the prompt, but maybe one day, I’ll write a better one.
Since Parvathi and I doing this together, I feel so much enthused to write poems. Go check out her
blog! She’s amazing ❤
I know we belonged to the past
and I know for sure that
I was never your future.
I just wish that the present
was longer so that I
could dig deep into you
and see you.
know you and try and strip away that facade you have on
I want to see you and your dark secrets
the desires that you’re scared of wanting
dreams that keep you up at night.
what’s the story behind that bright scarlet belt which reflects your inner personality?
come, sit with me
and tell me
the things that make you smile and the things that make tears stream down your cheeks
your first best friend
your first fight with your sibling (do you even have any?)
your first love
and your first heartbreak.
tell me everything.
I wrote this in class becasue I was feeling too sleepy. It was a really chilly weather, the warm-sweater-and-hot-tea-at-the-window-staring-at-the-rain types. Oh well.
If chocolate lovers can love all kinds of chocolate,
the bitter black, the sugary sweet white
and the perfect milk,
why can’t they learn to love people
the same why?
If that happens, maybe there is hope for
racism to be completely
obliterated. Love can bloom.
Just a little experiment.
This is the Spring Palette for the Heart, by
Parvathi and Me.
I look at you,
you look away.
I turn my nerves into steel
and walk over to you to talk to you
about how beautiful the weather is today!
About that book you’re holding.
But, fuck you.
This isn’t a damn game
where I chase you and chase you and chase you
and you run away so fast that
the dust catches fire and sucks out
all the breath in me.
I smile up at you as you
thread your fingers through mine.
I know that one of these days,
I will fall and break
and you won’t come to my rescue anymore.
It’s going to hurt me,
but I’m still going to enjoy your touch.
I sit in the cafe, waiting.
There are board games around and
I see Christmas decorations are up already.
I sit in a comfy cushiony chair
and stare at the door.
I hate that you are on hibernation mode in Winter.
I never get to see you.
I need a break from life. My poems are getting crappier and crappier by the day.