Night Vision

We were merely two wolves
Carrying embankments in our howling chests
Falling for our moons, in reflections of disturbed ponds
Acquaintances we were, of parallel woods
Not much thought spared
Other than the occasional, the customary
We were merely two wolves
Streaking through the wilderness
Within and without
Barely touching borders
Barely touching
Each other
And now nights roll out, carpets of moss to tread on
I hear you, I hear us
Soft padded thuds, footsteps or simply what we feel?
We howl, not echoing each other
For we let out the sorrows clawing our subdued eyes
Can I rest my tired head against your shoulder?
Guarding these walls has drained me
The reminders ache in the form of thorns embedded
Underfoot
Trespasser
Can I rest my head against yours?
It’s a quiet place of peace
Where our borders merge
A silent breathing space of no-meaning
Yet as we breathe us in, I wonder
When did darkness become a silhouette
Of warmth?

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Names Ache, Namesake

 

Imagine a fragment of the universe
The layout of galaxies flickering
In the blackness
Swirling, spiralling, in and out of each other

Pulse. Flicker. Pulse.
Here, horizons don’t exist
But we do
Hypnotic
We share more than a name
This must be what it’s like to, just, be
We have encircled each other for far too long

Two clouds of mist, shapeless, formless
Merging, emerging
Conversations, not interacting
Just upending
The contents of these bodies and minds
Of celestial matter they say we are
‘Mass’
Yes, mass, that must be it

The mutual heaviness, the synchronized unloading
Do you feel this
I’d place your gentle hand over my heart
If you were here
Yet we can feel the tides and maelstroms
Raging in us in response
To each other
Do you think the pianists of old could compose a masterpiece so simple?
I doubt.
But it’s us and I love it
I love the sense of echoing quiet when we converse
In abstract fragments but both know
The picture by heart
A picture with a feeling
Of ripples in rivers surging within
Laps of soothing melody
Has it been said before? Sometimes names are magic
I like this feeling, we should talk more often
What are you? Fuck. You’re magic.
Life doesn’t seem so scrambled like eggs right now
Or like constellations dispersed throughout dark ceilings
Flicker. Pulse. Flicker.
Back to stars and galaxies
Things my puny existence does not understand
We should leave science to the scientists and astronauts
And the understanding of us to our explorations
Swirling, spiralling in and out of each other

Namesake.
Names… ache.
We ache together
We wonder, we find
To our explorations
From sloppy kisses to our analogies
Of the fullness and lack of meaning
In the fragile moments of lip-lock stillness
The void they’re invitations to

“Come meet me at the edge and let’s fall together”

We express. We echo.

And so we ache under the burning light of nights
And days, a shadow choreography
Of flickering tangerine

We can dig graves
And our hearts
Be grave robbers
There’s always something to take
From the dead
So we sigh and speak lyrical
We are paintings of our cubist selves
We’re the same picture
Cubism is what it has been
You and I
Identical, cubed, differently arranged
Pulse. Flicker. Pulse.
Namesake,
I love you.

Goodbye

I never let you go
I waited for the possibility of an ‘us’ to erase itself
I never pursued you
I indulged in the thought of loving you
Without wanting to be loved back
Now there’s someone where I could’ve been
I didn’t let you go
I waited for the possibility of an ‘us’ to erase itself
Now there’s an empty space where you have been
For a quarter of a decade
It’s empty but not the absent and something-is-missing kind
It’s space that feels empty but like it could be filled
With some nice
Nice is a nice word to begin with
Goodbye
It was nice loving you

Onyx

There is a blanket of darkness
The stars have veiled their luminescence
This is our hold over the universe
There is a blanket of darkness
Our passions are naked underneath
Shall I make love to you, my love?
My words a wild caress undressing your thoughts
It’s a do till you die, a sigh till you cry
I’ll make you bleed cobalt blue
With my lips as I kiss
The parting through which
Countless affections you utter
In this velvet blackness where we stumble
And I am awakened when you stutter
Should I show you, my love?
The parts of me etched in onyx
Writhing lamentations of an undead romance
I’d ask you to be my mosque, to be my church
But no, no
Be my burial ground
Bury your all in me and when death does us part
I’ll be lowered into your soft earth
Going to sleep, cradled
In your arms
So shall I make love to you, my love?
A stroke here of neon and one there of pastel
Till dawn is over shock and amazement
To shine its first on our tangled existence
So look, my love, behold our magnificence
There’s a blanket of darkness
So much of us naked underneath
Rampant and raw, a rumble of hidden constellations
Buried between the spaces
Unable to be told apart, as yours or mine
Throw back your head
There are places of you that haven’t felt me yet
The curve of your neck
Is inviting my verses to take it in
So, shh, my love
We’re just getting started

Crystalline

24-08-2011, 01:48 am

Crystalline

 

Attempting to conjure some flamboyant memories,
I fail, ending up with charred debris.
For every time that I have smiled, I’m being punished,
‘Twas the way my heart perished.
Resembling fallen petals of a rose,
Are my tears; bloody, with every crystalline singing a prose.

Again what shines through my night,
Trickles down my tear-stained cheek”
What held me strong,
Is now holding me weak;
Recollecting bright summers,
And singing by the creek.

Oh the silver halo,
Oh how I miss,
To see the moon again,
Is all I wish.

In the corner of the night, where I cower,
Hoping would bloom a warm-lighted flower,
Flashes back what once was my life,
Before it was hit with grief and strife –

Dark silhouettes moving against the blinding light;
I see, feeling sparks in a shower,
They who were my friends,
My eternal strength and immortal power,
To writ the dark magic, called love against fear,
Charming atrocities alighted and sheer.

I am broken in fright,
Frigid have gone my vision and sight,
A fallen, broken angel, I rest as, here in pain,
Writhing, shivering, all in vain.

 

————–

 

Something I wrote two years ago.

– Praty

Distracted

A blank piece of paper,

Lies in front of me in mock,

I will myself to pick the weapon,

To release myself from shock.

 

What’s gotten into me?

Why these days can I not write?

I stare, nervousness building,

Did I lose my skill? I’m hit by fright.

 

In the back of my distracted mind,

I let my past and recent poetry flow.

Pertaining of emotions, thoughts,

But now, everything moves slow.

 

Concentrate! I plead to myself,

Eyes unfocused; again daydreaming.

Torn my thinking process has been,

One wanders, the other is screaming.

 

“Your worlds are calling to you!

For your love of art, write!”

It begs, it implores, but still,

Self-absorbed, my lower lip I bite.

 

For a flutter of a moment I focus,

Uneasiness swaps places with distraction.

Summoning strength I write “A blank piece…”

There! That feeling. Bubbling with commotion!

 

Scrawling, scribbling, I go on, and reach,

The part of “What’s gotten into me?”

Realization brings up a smile,

How such a simple notion could I not see?

 

I don’t write from my mind, no,

It’s my heart’s voice in poetry.

Something had hushed it down,

Deep inside it had felt so sultry.

 

Poetry triggered by emotions,

Have crafted my thinking and me.

Fragments of memories, incidents,

Of how I perceive the world, and see.

 

____________________________

 

I wrote a poem on how I haven’t been able to write, where I’m writing the same poem where I haven’t been able to write, where I’m writing the same –… Well, you get the idea. Poem-ception. Heh.

And I really haven’t been able to write these past few days. Ugh. Kinda got distracted with stuff and this is about that. Every word.

 

— Pratty

The World of Art

There’s a world called art

The world where I belong

But here in this temporal world?

My stay cannot be prolonged

 

Your world knows naught but chaos

There’s destruction all around

Natural music’s been replaced

With blood-curdling sounds

 

My kin’s laughed at for its existence

But where would you be without us?

We designed the humanly world you see

Our selflessness, for you has been a plus

 

We sway to our soul’s harmony

Why is it the subject of your chuckle?

You know not our strength when unified

It’ll force your shallow mockery to buckle

 

Literature to you is rubbish

Fiction is simply fool hardiness

We literally wrote your entire history

Yet surprising isn’t your selfishness

 

As you put it, but we disagree

We don’t have our heads in clouds

If we didn’t wing ourselves to ethereal freedom

We’d be bound like you, to the ground

 

We can’t be shackled to your monetary interests

We’re not slaves to your thinking, realize!

Our minds are wide open, to the universe

Closeted like you, we do not rationalize!

 

Our world has a secret door to it

You can’t access it without the key

Look deep inside your heart, and listen!

What you’ll hear will let you see

 

We don’t live on this orb, tied

It might be our home, but no!

We have immeasurable horizons to ourselves!

Pushing our boundaries, we fly! Explore!

 

We’ve built bridges connecting us

To all the provinces our world can offer

Let us and we’ll help you climb them

Finding an escape from all that you suffer

 

______________________________

 

My internet has kind of abandoned me, and now I’m using my phone as a wi-fi hotspot, but it’s too slow. So I might not be able to post my poems that’ll complete the NaPoWriMo challenge. There still are about 9 or so poems to post which’ll make it 30, Sigh.

— Pratty

Captivating

She leapt high

Twirled with her white dress

I stood there watching

Awe plastered to my face

 

The sand was her canvas

Her feet were the brushes

Her strokes were both fierce and passionate

Yet in a way, tremendously intricate

 

I don’t know who she was

Nor did she ever feel my presence

She was my sweet haunted nightmare

From afar I could feel her rhythmic essence

 

She danced to her beats

To her soul she called

Every morning, this time

To her soul I was drawn

 

I was a mere spectator who

Came across this wonder by chance

Watched this muse put her heart out

In my direction she hasn’t once glanced

 

Is she performing to the ocean gods?

I’d often wonder, as she spun, swayed, did splits

Oh, how wondrous the sight would be

If with a partner she was to do lifts!

 

Her arms sway

Like branches responding to the wind

Delicate, graceful, with elegant stillness

Then she kneels, her palms down are pinned

 

For a moment she looks up

My hearts skips a beat

A kind of a sadness buds inside

I retrace my steps, jog away discreet

 

Did she see me? I hope not

I had started to think of her as a friend

I wouldn’t want this series

Of repetitive and enchanting events to end

 

Next morning I find that part of the beach empty

Disheartened, I turn, only to find someone staring

From under the shade of a tree – it was she!

She approached, grim, stride that hinted daring

 

I opened my mouth to apologize, feeling guilty

She held her hand up, silencing me

When she spoke, her voice was captivating

Her words, however, were unexpected

 

While I stood there agape and she sort of shied

“You’re late, sire. But – coffee?” I stared, she smiled.

This summer morning

It’s summer, it’s supposed to be blazing by 7am, but nope! Today, it wasn’t darn-it’s-hot during those hours. In fact, it was breezy. For a while.

After 5 years I did some photography. I still remember the day when I got my first camera. It was my 8th birthday, and the gift was a delightful surprise.

Something, something felt different today. I got my sis’s cam out, and went on clicking till all the images and the familiar thrill of photography had filled me with glee. It was that feeling that makes you wanna throw your head back and laugh with tears streaming down your cheeks, and you’re happy! I love it.

1 final

Things that sit abandoned

Things that sit abandoned.

6 final

My darlings. Haha.

8 - final

That shade of blue…

 11 final

I really liked this click but it turned out all hazy. Sigh.

 

15 - final

So random yet it has a meaning – My fave squirrels’ fave climbing spot. Heh.

12 - final

Window to a neighbourhood

 

After running around capturing stuff, I thought I’d better work on my blog, that’s when I came across Krishna Shenoi’s blog. So glad I did.

– Pratyusha

P.S: Zeudon is my pseudo