Writing to me is a therapy,
Trust me, it works much better than allopathy.
I can create anything new I may,
By the words I choose to say.
On the days that I seem to be blue,
Words hold me together like glue.
Even on days I'm down with flu,
I rhyme like a sleuth working on a clue.
So many words to pin, so many stories to spin.
So many thoughts pouring in.
One by one I pick 'em,
One by one I speak life to 'em.
It really feels very great,
When a friend appreciates the stories I create.
I know I have touched lives,
With the words I've etched in their mind.
And I know it isn't a lie,
When amigos tell me they like my line.
On the days I feel melancholy,
Writing gives me constant company.
Writing to me is fun,
Because it makes me reach for the sun.
Even when things look very glum,
Writing makes life so very yum!
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers
by BlogAdda.
When Bee Gees sang the lines 'Words are all I have', they were talking about me!
Shhh! Don't tell anyone okay? Our little secret!
And hey all you Calvin lovers! Here's something for you!
A fat lady entered the bus,
And made a big fuss.
About how everyone was in a rush.
She had this huge belly,
As big as an LCD telly.
Which she tugged along like a jelly.
As the bus pulled up at a stop,
The lady huffed and puffed and jumped and raved.
And stomped her mighty feet onto the floor.
A tiny little girl entered soon,
With a pointed parapluie blue.
And stood near that lady close.
As the bus tramped through the narrow streets,
The fat lady lost her breeze.
And dashed against the little girl in her heels.
The little girl was mighty pissed off,
And told her, 'Hey lady! You better get off me!'
'Eh? Why? What you gonna do? You little monkey?', said she.
'You called me a monkey, did you?'
Saying this she poked the lady with her parapluie blue.
The fat lady fell flat on the floor with a snarl.
She got up to find her telly tummy gone.
That's when she realised,
The parapluie blue had punctured her belly through.
Embarrassed she got off the bus.
Lighter without her huge belly,
Which she tugged around like a jelly!
This poem is just a weird and a silly one. As weird and silly as the author herself! Nevertheless, I hope you like it. Also, a message to the dames grandes, please don't be messing with the dames petites! Who knows, they could just end up puncturing your belly! :P
P.S. This is supposed to be a funny poem. Take it that way! And yes - please don't bully anyone. Irrespective of if they are fat or thin, tall or short, fair or dark. Or whatever! Remember, cowards bully.
P.P.S. The best weight loss program, aint it?
As she walked down the street,
She heard people scream.
As she got closer,
She heard them call her names.
She dint know it was a game,
They were looking to defame.
They called her ugly, fat and dumb,
She asked herself, 'What! Am I?'
She believed their every line,
She trusted their empty lies.
She lost herself in the crowd,
She lost the hope that she had found.
As she was walking on way,
She heard those dogs bay.
She heard their muffled voices,
At first she thought it was just some weird noises.
As she walked ahead,
She heard them call her stupid and slow.
And other nasty names in a flow.
And she asked herself again, 'What! Am I?'
She then wondered, 'Am I really ugly, fat and dumb?,
Am I really stupid and slow?'
That's when she heard a voice from inside,
And that voice calmed her from within.
That voice told her the truth,
The truth she had forgotten.
That voice showed her the way,
The way she thought she had lost.
That voice gave her hope,
The hope that she thought had dimmed.
That voice gave her life,
The life that she thought had died.
That voice told her that she was precious and one of a kind.
That she was not what others said she was.
That she was the apple of someone's eye.
That she was perfect just the way she was.
That she was beautiful.
That she was pretty.
That she was funny.
That she was cute.
That she was smart.
That she was God's lovely art.
That she was sweet.
That she was neat.
That she was special.
That she was perfect.
That she was unique.
That she was really the best.
That she made a difference.
That she was cared for.
That she was wanted.
That she made the world a better place.
That she was a gem.
That she was royal.
That she was needed.
That she was one of a kind.
She asked herself again, 'What! Am I?'
The voice replied back, 'Yes, you are!'
She smiled and said, 'Amen!
Thanks! Thanks for letting me know!'
Many
a times we have people in our life who put us down, call us names and
hurt us. And sometimes, it is a friend. It hurts us. But remember that we are not
what they call us. We are much better, much much better than they could
ever attempt to be! I have had enough of so called 'friends' in my life. And I
am grateful to them for calling me names and for telling me that I am
good for nothing. For it is their harsh words that got me closer to God
and showed me what I really am. And what they really are. Don't believe the lies the world tells you. You are really the best. You are one of a kind. There cannot be another YOU, EVER!
I once dreamed.
About a beautiful life.
A life that was perfect.
Too perfect to be true.
A life with you.
I dint have much to brag about.
Riches, fame, name I had none.
But I had life.
I had hope.
I had faith.
I had love.
I needed nothing else.
No, not one.
It was faith that I had.
Faith in you.
Faith in me.
Faith in everything around me.
But that night.
That one dark and scary night.
They took it all away.
In an instant.
I cried, I yelled, I begged.
But they were too stone hearted, they were deaf!
They were heartless.
They were worthless.
They were nothing less of a beast.
They came prowling in the night like a thief.
They turned me into chaff in the wind.
They killed me that day.
They conquered my body that night.
They can't kill me anymore.
'Coz I am in a place that knows no gore.
My body they burnt, but my spirit soared.
Into the hands of God who knows it all.
They may think they'll get over this shame.
But trust me, they'll never live through this pain.
I am no more now.
All thanks to them.
But I once dreamed about many things and a few.
That one day I'd start my life anew.
This post was a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative
for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda and it got selected among the top
three entries for WOW. Here is the link: WOW winners.
This post is also an attempt to try and understand what that girl went through.
Her thoughts, her fears, her anger, her hopes, her hopelessness, her anxieties,
her emotions. Nobody will ever know what she went through. Nobody.
She was a stranger at first
And she thought he was a flirt
He was too timid to talk to her
And he didn't know what to say to her.
One day they spoke and laughed a little
That day was the best he had in a while
He yearned to see her smile
All the time, all the while.
She was such a beauty after all
He felt so blinded by her gaze
She put him in a haze
But never did he complain.
They spoke some more
And a little over more
Friends they became one day
And that's when his heart gave away.
He felt a million things for her
He wondered if she felt the same
He hoped she did too
He wished she did too.
Mustering the courage he believed he never had
He told her the words he thought he'd never say
And his heart did skip a beat like they say
And his hand grew cold like the winter insane.
She smiled and then she said to him
The same words he said to her
She shook his fears and held him near
Together they took on a journey called the happily ever afters!
This
poem is a dedication to all the love stories in the world. Especially
the friends turned best friends turned soul mates turned life partners.
Love is what makes the world go round. 'Coz there is love, there is
hope.
Man came, man saw, man conquered.
He took, he snatched, he plundered.
He soiled, he axed and uprooted.
All this he did, and he blundered!
My family nested there once,
The very place you've nested yours.
But you still have yours;
And I have none, no, not one.
What did I do to you?
What didn't I do for you?
Gave my everything to you.
And this is what you give me in return?
Where are your manners Adam?
Where is your conscience mortal?
Did it turn to stone, you bastard?
As you axed down my folks - The Mustards?
Did you see me cry?
Did you hear me sigh?
Did you see me bleed?
Did you hear me plead?
I guess no.
If you did, I'd know.
You are too arrogant, you scoundrel!
You'll soon meet your end and ordeal.
And then you'll know all that you did was gore.
And then you'll see the blood on your hands for sure.
And then your guilt will eat you from within.
And then I'll laugh as I see you writhe and wriggle.
Empty handed I came I know, and empty handed I'll go from here.
But I wish there would be someone to cry.
As I bid my final goodbyes,
Lying motionless in the grave that's mine.
But as for you, you mortal! You wicked, wicked thing!
Remember one thing - as you sow, so shall you reap.
And one day all you'll do is sit and weep,
Over the grave that laid The Mustards.
This post was a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative
for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda and it got selected as the BEST entry
for WOW. Here is the link: WOW winners
This poem is also a dedication by the baby mustard tree in memory of his
beautiful parents - The Mustards, who were brutally killed by The Bastards (us).
And like Agent Smith says in The Matrix, 'Every mammal develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding and environment, humans do not. Humans move to an area and multiply until every natural resource is consumed and the only way they survive is by spreading to another area. And there's another organism on this planet which follows similar patter. A Virus'
Well, God did not intend for us to be viruses, lets be more humane, lets be HUMANS and not some nuisance!
They had been married for five years now.
It was an arranged one I'm told.
But when they fell in love, they didn't know.
I guess it was a natural thing.
How long could two strangers live like strangers?
Love was surely an inevitable thing.
They were surely happy as hell.
But see how things slowly fell.
They behaved as if someone had cast a spell.
He blamed her for her silly games.
She called him nasty names.
Together they were on a road to hell.
Then one winter's eve she said to him.
'Very soon we'll need a bigger bed'
'Why so?' he asked shaking his head.
She took his hand and placed it on her womb.
That is when he got a clue.
Another life was blooming within her.
Tears of joy ran down his cheeks.
He gave her a gentle little kiss.
All the lava boiling inside, now melted into beautiful smiles.
They didn't speak for a while.
Coz it took time to sink inside.
They were soon gonna be three from two.
She moved closer and held his hand.
And looked in his eyes and spake.
With words unspoken a million tales.
Of their love, their joy, their grief, their pain.
They looked at the dimming twilight.
Their hearts sure felt so bright.
They stood in silence for a while.
That silence took away all the gloom.
That silence made their love bloom.
That silence spoke a million words.
That silence brought them back again.
Silence is a great healer, they knew in their hearts that day.
This post was a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative
for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda and it got selected among the top three entries
for WOW. Here is the link: WOW winners
This poem is also a dedication to all the babies yet to be born, who without
their knowledge light up this gloomy world.
In addition, this poem is also a reminder of this season of Advent, the season
Jesus came to this world as a baby and lit up our lives.
A picture is worth a thousand words they say.
But this one's worth a million.
Just yesterday was her first birthday.
My princess, my darling, my baby.
I still remember that day.
She was dressed in my favorite color.
She was dressed in Yellow.
Today she has grown up.
My princess, my darling, my baby.
Is no more a baby.
She is stubborn, headstrong and silly.
Just like me.
The tiny little tot that she once was.
She was so very mellow.
I loved her then.
I love her now.
I'll love her till the end.
I love her for her madness.
I'll love her till she forgets her sadness.
I'll love her till her heart fills with gladness.
I love her just the way she is.
She fills my life with laughter.
She drives me mad by her endless chatter.
She took me back to my youth.
When life wasn't lived by the book.
She taught me that it is okay to cry.
She takes me by my hand.
She makes me dance like I am in some band.
She reminds me of her.
The beautiful lady I wed.
They look so alike.
I am glad they both are mine.
She is nothing like her.
Yet, I love my little girl for being her.
She adds life to my years.
I remember plaiting her hair daily.
And packing her bags and walking her to school lazily.
Soon I'd walk her down the aisle too.
All that would remain are the memories.
My little girl and her lovely stories.
Each time I think I'm close to knowing.
She keeps on growing.
Do I know what she feels?
Does she breathe the same fears I breathe?
Do I know what's in her mind?
Does she know what's in mine?
Do I know if she's happy?
Does she know if I am?
Do we know anything at all?
Very soon my little princess will be gone.
To another lad with whom her heart belongs.
I hope he treats her like a queen.
And never makes her heart bleed.
I'll pretend to the world I'm fine.
When my girl slips out of my shrine.
She made my home so divine.
I'm afraid that day may come too soon.
And my little girl will be gone too soon.
I'll hide my fears and my tears.
'Coz I don't want to let her know.
Her happiest day may just be my saddest.
She won't be home fooling around anymore.
She'd be under someone else's roof, she with her madness.
I'll miss my little girl too much.
Slipping through my fingers all the time.
I gently sit down for a while.
I feel I'm gonna lose her forever.
I'm glad that I could share her laughter.
That funny little girl.
That silly little girl.
My Daughter, My Princess, My Girl.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative
for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda
This poem is also about what a father feels for his daughter who was once so little but now is all set to leave him for another home, another shoulder, another hand, another man. The emotions behind it. The pain behind it. Through the eyes of the father who secretly wishes that he could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time.
I had tears while writing this poem, I wonder what my daddy will go through when he's walking me down the aisle.
And yes, my dad plaited my hair when I was in school.
They sat down by the river bank,
Looking at the lives they left back.
It was love at first sight,
But slowly love seemed to take a flight.
What went wrong they didn't know,
They tried with their heart, their might, their soul.
Silence crept into their world they didn't know how,
They didn't talk to each other anymore now.
They thought of the lives they led,
Since the very day they first met.
It was in high school last year,
That they fell in love so dear.
They knew they were meant to be,
It was too crystal clear to see.
They stood one last time to glance,
At the life they lived with a chance.
As they pondered on miles they walked together,
His contagious laughter broke the silent cover hovering over.
He looked back to the day,
His heart felt so gay.
He took her hand and asked her,
Do you remember that day in the cold winter's night I asked you to be my wife?
She smiled back and said, Yes I do,
How could I forget the day you confessed your love for me Ernest?
Are you willing to give us one more chance Lily?, he asked;
And see if this thing could still last?
She knew she wanted to say a No,
But something inside her cold heart began to glow.
She nodded and said, Yes, I'm willing,
Let's see if we can get to that shore.
They walked hand in hand to their home,
With renewed love and hope and cheerful chatter.
The silence no more was to be heard anymore,
'Coz their laughter broke the silence that lurked before.
The glowing laughter warmed their faint little hearts,
And gave them the strength to fight love's last chance.
Lily and Ernest didn't let go of each other,
They held on to the flickering flame once more.
And gave their love the fighting chance,
They needed to make it forever last.
This post was a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative
for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda and it got selected among the top two entries for WOW.
Here is the link: WOW winners for 'Creative Writing'
This post is also a dedication to love. This isn't just about Ernest and Lily. It is about us. Our relationships. Don't give up on love. Don't put out the fire, fan the flames instead, in the end you'll see it was really worth it.
He wakes me up each day,
Singing songs so cheerfully gay.
He had me at his good morning dance,
Where he shook his booty à la Solange.
The dimwit struck a chord in my heart,
I knew it was love's first chance.
He was starstruck too,
His puppy face said it out too loud.
He got on his knees and took out a ring,
And popped me the question 'Would you be my Mrs. Bucky?'
I knew he was nervous,
'Coz I heard him break wind out loud.
I shied away for while,
I had to get a whiff of fresh air to survive.
I told him, I'll say yes on one condition -
You'll let me eat all the nuts you hide up your house?
'No problemo!' said my Romeo with excitement,
He grabbed his Juliet's hand and kissed her tight.
They didn't wait for the priest to pronounce them Man & Wife,
She packed her stuff and followed her Mr Bucktooth to his tree house.
There they lived happily ever after,
Fighting over the fruits and the nuts!
(My crazy and obviously imaginative conversation with Bucky the squirrel that lives on the tree outside my window)
This post was a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative
for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda and it got selected among the topmost entries for WOW.
Here is the link: WOW winners for 'Creative Writing'
PETA: Please don't sue me for harboring strange desires of marrying a squirrel!
Sue BlogAdda if you have to! They asked me to be creative!
