The Beginning of the End

Note: The first poem I ever wrote and kept. Written four years ago. Put up purely for sentimental reasons.

As the rain came pouring down
Walked through the streets of that little town
Saw the whole country in that little place
All huddled in that tiny space.

The colours all blinding bright
Most in dark poverty
Some in wealthy light
A line drawn sharply across
Marking the border that must not be crossed

The beginning of the end arrives
Ends the world of walls
Even as humanity cries
For acceptance it calls

An apocalypse slowly drawing near
Oblivious to the pouring tears
Darkness falls on this little town
Coming closer, now nearer the ground

Teeming with people running around
Raising their voices and stamping the ground
Holding up banners of war and peace
Walking noisily through mucky streets

Telling the "Gods" that the world is not their's
That one day as they have
"Gods" will pain have to bear.

The Love In A Killing

There I see him lying awake
His blinking eyes with tears that betray
He lays one skinny hand on mine
And feels the warmth of comfort benign

He lifts his eyes to my face
And thanks me in his signature way
My sight begins to blur now
I blink away the tears now

I look into his beautiful face
Hard and scarred but still with grace
His eyes have lost their shine,
They haven't seen the sun.
His lips have lost their smile,
They have long since kissed no one.

I smile at him now, with my own pretty mouth
I touch his hair, and smooth it out
He looks as beautiful as he can possibly be
His face as always loving me

He has suffered enough, lost all hope
The knife is in him and I get up to go
His eyes have shut obediently
His blood on my hands clings to me.

Cynicism?

Note: My apologies to the reader for the prosaic name I have given the poem. It was for want of a better one.

A kaleidoscope of figures
A flash of colour and sound.
A smile, a word exchanged,
A friend, a lover found.

A tune played, a song sung,
A droop of the eyelid.
A secret look, a strand of hair,
A gentle fleeting kiss.

And then like glass,
In a thousand shards,
The serenity was gone,
The smile was cold, the words sharp,
A silence replaced the song.

Something that was
Now seemed a dream,
A fantasy, a flight.
The beauty of it wasn't marred
But it felt like distant light.

Was it real? Was it pure?
Was it woven in the mind?
Was its tune sweet and clear?
Was its sound benign?

It felt a little hollow now
Like a silver fairytale
That enchants the mind, and brings a smile,
But is infact a veil.

Inspired by sudden sense
These words were laid down
A fantasy was pierced right through
But sanity was found.

A Woman's Song

Note: This is a poem I wrote for a college competition. The topic given was "Ripped fishnet stockings, samurai sword and rubber ducky." Very random, I know.

Ripped fishnet stockings strewn,
The site of a catastrophe
A lonely wailing beauty sat
And lived through her fantasy.

The music stopped just then.
The silence dissolved her.
She lifted her head in prayer,
Her eyes filled with tears

"What has happened?" She asked.
The sword had struck home.
Her guilt to her was atonement
Her being was virtuous, it was her own.

Being taunted isn't easy
Being belittled, even worse.
Being abused was a ritual
That followed from the first curse.

Her superiority convinced her
She could not have borne anymore.
She hated his face now
And the greyness of death it wore.

She watched a rubber ducky float
Its inane smile mirrored her's.
The tears were dry, the prayer lost
Sanity where madness had lurked.

Here We Go Again

I love to write, it helps me in so many different ways. So here I am, starting a blog - again. I hope this works out to be better for me than my previous blog. I deleted that one because it didn't feel like mine, it felt pretentious and phoney, almost as if I was trying too hard. And writing and reading are two very special things that should never be abused like that. Thus the death of one blog - immature and childish, and the rise(much later) of another - a little more mature(hopefully) and a lot more from the heart.