Finally a real poem (the title is justified you'll know after you read....so BETTER READ)

I want to write I want to write
But this darned work sched is tight

So much to say and so many talks
Day light blues and moon light walks

But hey hey hey, please don't go away
I beg you to read, I beg you to stay

If you comment that would be great too
After all my readers are but a few

I promise to try and write up something new
Not only crib, bawl, and make you blue

Now thats been a real hard attempt to rhyme
I know it sounds shitty, but do I care a dime ;-)

PS: While I gave myself all the airs , (of course for no logical reason or credits), to be a serious poet, who deeply touched the chord of the few readers who read my posts more out of OK lets return the favor factor, one 'cool dude' or so he thinks himself to be, very intelligently (again he thinks so) pointed out, "Monica you write and all that OK, some of it does make sense too granted, but then these are not poems yaar. You seem to be mistaken somewhere, you see poems HAVE TO rhyme.".......So here is to my very intellectual friend (he does not follow sarcasm so I can call him a friend...he he wicked smile - is there an emoticon for this?????)......a real sincere attempt at bad rhyme. All nasty comments are welcome, though am sure to get one that says finally you understood what is poetry....fancy doing MA Lit and not knowing that. Dumb dumb Monica!

-A very desperate and fast losing patience with the world: Mon

Shattered, Scarred, Scathed

I was wandering through my lost world,
But at some point I slipped; unknown, unawares, oblivious.
A thousand pieces shattered on the scarred floor.
From the deep blues, I looked into my mirror,
A distorted image reflected back.

My once light transparent eyes are now charred and dead.
The fair skin now tainted with deep dark circles into which my eyes are drowning slowly but surely.
The smile a trace of a faint dark shadow.
The tears a seamless stain.

I stink.
Every part of me aches, pains, hurts.
There are cobwebs all over me.
Everything within bleeds and everything without is scathed.

Cold water cleansing proves futile in purifying.
Any touch makes the wounds burn.
The attempt to heal only causes more blisters that prick.

I am trying to pick each scattered piece and put it back to where it belonged,
A mismatched jigsaw is the result.

-Monica

Thoughts at Gandhi Ghat (Barrackpore, Calcutta)

Without even a ripple or the slightest surge of waves, the seamless stretch of water radiated absolute calm and peace. It was steady and in a sense self as well as all containing. I quickly dissolved into its serenity. A few inches above, the sky grayed out casting its shadows on the shimmering transparency. The sadness of the grey was being healed by the acceptance of the blues. I stood rooted to the steps that led into the waters and kept gazing for what seemed like timeless hours at this merging of pain and acceptability. I was overcome with a deep sense of poise and the stillness was a balm of reassurance. I envied them both, the letting go of the skies and the open embrace of the waters. Why was I holding on? Who would embrace the melting me? In answer, a lonesome boat bobbed in the middle of the mystic waters headed in no particular direction thereby blanketing my futility with some solace. Suddenly all seemed well with the insane world. Maybe nothing would matter anymore. And all of this with mere acceptance. So I stood there ready to accept, accept the moment, accept the day, the hour, the situation, the circumstances, you as you, me as me, and the us that would never be – I stood there gazing at and accepting life as is and would be.
As if the gospel truth revealed, the grey clouds parted and an orange sunset sprinkled its reds in scatters, arousing mixed emotions of longing, desperation, pain, and yet a new hope. The sun set with all glory and grace and deepened the agony within and yet made me smile without. The dying rays somehow instilled a little hope, a hope that was mine alone. A hope, which belonged only to me. My hope was fragile, brittle, weak, but nevertheless something to look forward to. I would need to nurture and nourish it within my heart, all by myself. I would not share this hope with another; I would not require another to make me believe in myself, no one to make me dream, no one to put me together and no one to break me to nothingness. The moist breeze caressing my face felt comforting even though irrepressible tears flowed giving me the inherent strength I had lost these many days.
I closed my eyes ready to dream my grey-blue dreams again.
Gandhi Ghat, Barrackpore, Calcutta, July 13, 06.45 pm
-Mon

Take them all away!

I steal the wishes and desires from the secret folds of my heart
And let them slip away quietly into the colorless voids

I open my eyes forcibly
And let each dream die silently

I take all my joys, my hopes, my colors
And I give them all to you
The smiles, the sunshine, the rainbows

Each of it and all of it is now yours

The golden-yellows of the lazy fresh sun-ups

The orange-reds of the serene mystic sun-downs

The rusty-browns of the brazen wild winds

The slate-grays of the drenching swallowing downpours

The silvery-whites of the crescent melting moon

…And the blazing-ambers of the passion-full togetherness

But tell me also who do I give-

The echoes of our laughter?

The silhouettes of our imaginations?

The moisture of my tears?

The shadows of my solitude?

….And the nothingness that is me?

Mon

Kahin door jab...

"kabhi to ye dil kahin mil nahi pate
kahin se nikal aaye janmo ke nate
ghani si ulzhan, bairi apna man
apna hi hoke sahe dard paraye"

.....few of the most beautiul lines that ring truer every time I hear them. I hear them now and I cry ceaselessly. I love my lonliness and smile effortlessly. I feel a heavniess encompassing me and yet it feels strangely calming. Maybe being aloof also means being free. Too many thoughts ruuning through my mind at the moment, I find it difficult to express anything. The moments melt away in the melody of the music. I dissolve into the space and I do not exist or maybe I do not want to exist. For some reason the last desire has died too. I gaze into the flickering flame of the candle and seek solace in its diminishing. I know that is what I want to be, I want to be a candle, to flicker and dwindle away, with memories of lighting up the darkness and yet leaving no trace in brightness. I hold my palm over the dying flame, the burn feels soothing. I enclose the warmth in my fist and feel the strength growing in me. I look into the mirror and smile feeling fulfilled and at peace with my numbness.

-Monica

Shadows of A Morn'

A stale morning dawned today
It carried over the broken shards of the lonely night

The weakened breeze was loaded with the desperation of emptiness
And the sunrays only spilt its lonesome melody everywhere

The whiff of bitter salts saturated the air
Filling each breath with the sting of void

I opened my eyes to the moaning clouds
And the dark hues cast by the bereft skies

Accustomed to the embrace of murky nights and inherent nothingness
I welcomed the broken morning with an amused smile

And now the day just passes on, each moment enwrapped in the obscured ache
With enraptures of silent tears being the only signs of acceptance

Weary of the resurrection
A morning today yearns for the eternal sunset

-Monica

A Permanent Split...

The dip in the ice cold blues was refreshing. It helped clear the cob webs in my head or so I felt, at least then. I decided to take the lazy walk home and give myself some more clear thinking time. The cool evening breeze made me shiver a wee bit, what with the body still attuned to the water and strokes. Light headed and warmed and cold equally I dragged each step towards the road that took me home.

Little did I realize that imagination was already spinning its silken grey threads and weaving new cobwebs for me. Lost in my neverland, I was jolted back to reality at the touch of what felt like dead snake skin brushing against my feet. The front wheel of the bike nearly did or maybe actually did touch my feet, while I could still hear the screeching of the brakes. OK so this was it, I had blindly crossed the road until I found myself heading straight into the bike. I shut myself mentally to let the abuse and anger pour out. But there was silence and it was the calmness that made me look up. A stark contrast to my empty eyes, dark circles, and tanned face was a clear, bright, and smiling one staring back at me. A face that smiles and spreads smile like my good ol’ monk. My lips cracked into something akin but I found it difficult to say thank you, maybe because there was this buried sense of regret at the miss. Our eyes locked for a fraction of a second, a tryst of life and death. It was difficult to break the contact and move on. The sudden honking of horns was enough to break the spell. I don’t know how long the moment lasted, a few minutes, a second, a split second….but it made a permanent impact.

I clutched the nothingness in my fists tightly and moved on with my head high. I could feel the gaze bore into the back of my neck, but I did not turn back. I moved on. I could sense my god speeding away too, to never come back.

-Mon