THE GIRL WHO READS

This is a fun poem.. A teeny bit hyperbolic.. But it's real all the same. I have many gal pals, but I connect beautifully with those following the same religion as I- Reading. Hope you enjoy readingit as much as I enjoyed writing it (I had to actually tell myself to stop after 15 odd stanzas )

.So this one's for all my girls who don't give a damn to the dark circles borne out of our unending worship rituals, and for the people who love them the way they are. :) 

You’ll find me cooped up in a library

Lost in some novel, oblivious and merry

You’ll find me gaping in a book shop

Like a child coveting a gigantic lollipop

You’ll find me saving pocket money

To buy books not few, but “so many!”

Watching a movie before its book?

It’s a heinous crime I won’t overlook.

Yes, I fall in love and have crushes too

But they’re heroes from classics, not you.

If my bag burst open or you nicked my cell-phone

In there’ll be a dictionary, next to ‘games’ or cologne.

If you have ONLY textbooks and notes in your room,

Then for you I’ll be ‘boring’, (with experience) I assume.

I’m a thinker and at times my thoughts are sublime,

I might not really write, but I do know how to rhyme.

I fall into reveries – I have my own world you know

There I’m a famous sorceress, and my pet’s a Grindylow.

My treasures are made of paper, I already made a will

The bookmarks go to Cathy, and all the novels go to Bill.

Not flowers, but new and crisp pages smell the best

A tear, a food stain, a fold – they give me heart arrest.

Don’t know who’s Gandalf, what’s the Mirror of Erised?

I’ll stare at you incredulously, or just smack my forehead.

Comics and blogs are fast-food, devoured in minutes

Rowling got me crying, Wodehouse had me in splits!

Of the values of different characters, I am a concoction

I often identify events of my life, with those from fiction.

I may be a nerd, a babe, or a freak with hair in beads

I may be a meticulous planner, or go where life leads.

Go on - categorize me as a girl by my looks, caste, or deeds

Yet I’m striking and different because, I’m the girl who reads.

SHE

She gazes into the ornate mirror

And what she observes disgusts her.

With a firm rub she wipes away the rouge

For she has had enough of this delusional life

Living without the withered façade would be wise.

With an unadorned face she sets forth

Wondering what waits is warmth or mirth

The former, a balm, the latter, a catalyst;

She wants to be cherished for the person she is

She wants to stop trying, wants to breathe with ease.

Trying to please everyone, trying to blend,

Trying to be in control, trying to heal and mend.

The cycle must cease, a new path must be paved.

Thoughts, spun into speech, speech, stirred into deeds.

She must take unwavering steps, go where her dream leads.

If mother were here, to hold her close

Wouldn’t she talk of the thorn on the rose?

Neither exists without the other, she’d rightly say.

So what if the new boulevard leads away from the known

Bearing the flame of hope and grit, she must venture alone.

 Some try to discourage, warning her of failure

Some just mock, running in herds, with a fool’s sneer

Efforts beget success, even on paths that are seldom trodden.

She knows the few rare who stand by, will see her through strife.

Thus she dares to shatter stereotypes and be the master of her own life.

So onwards sets she, peaceful yet eager

In a world of puppets, a free incongruous figure.

‘Watch me’, says her mien, ‘as I follow my heart’.

And as they whisper in clusters exhaling pity, contempt and doubt,

A wise crone smiles, ‘That, dear folks, is a woman fit to be sung about.’       

Dying inside

You sit there,serene and effervescent, by my side.
Thankfully, blissfully unaware I'm dying inside.

The world for me, has lost its lustre,
My heart tries to find the courage it can muster.

Was this meant to be so, I wonder in concern,
Thinking of destiny, fate, revival-beliefs, undone.

But of course you can't hear that silent cry,
Yearning to burst through my lips, ending up as a sigh.

Chattering joyously, you look at me-I've lost you,
I pull on a mask of happiness you can't see through.

I'll tell you the truth, in a sec,a moment,a while ..
Would that make you sad, and kill that lovely smile?

No thanks, on my own, I'll carry on ..
Hope's the only saviour- I'll clutch it lest it's gone.

I'll fight this clawing monster, fight it till its death.
And when it's gone forever, I'll smile and make a wreath.

Mind it

   We always read in the precious dailies, in some 5x3 inch article about how we use only so and so per cent of our brains. Has it ever happened that during exams, those noxious periods in a usually carefree student's life, you start getting eureka moments, creativity bouts, or some philosophical thoughts?! It happens every time with me. My guess is that we use most of our brains during exams,  and they get spurred into activity. Coming to the point (ah, being a P.G. Wodehouse fan tends to make you blabber on, out of topic), I wrote an entry into my diary a few weeks before CET  which I thought I'd share. So here it goes.. 


   22nd feb'10:
   You pull a random fellow out of a crowd, and ask him, "Which is the most powerful thing in the world ?" He may stare, bewildered, for a few seconds and say (if he hasn't already disposed you off as a madman) "Err.. a hydrogen bomb?" or thingummy.
    It's not bombs, the USA, Barack Obama or Osama who's the most powerful. It's the MIND. Everybody's mind. It's a very active thing, going from one place , one event, one thought, to another, in milliseconds. But it distributes its power in so many directions that its power is diluted and seldom realised. If only we could make it toil after the things we WANT to do, and not just bask in merry memories or futuristic fantasies!
   Remember, the mind controls your actions, good or bad. It can propel you to glory or plunge you into hopeless failure! So to unleash, the full power of a mind, you first need to CONTROL its movement. Keep it tied up like a ferocious bulldog tied with a steel  chain to a steel post. This chain should be of the strongest steel, or to put it directly, of the strongest will. Every time your mind tries to break off, bring it back, pull it back. Instead, direct its energies towards your goals.
   Without a goal, there are no directed efforts. Without directed efforts, there's no absolute success. The mind, should be treated gently, like a newborn, a loved one, a glass vase! Be appreciative. Control it. Control it. Control it yaar! It's not so easy, it's like taming a fang-baring, roaring lion.. But find your way to calm it, and it shall morph into a purring old cat, obedient and serene.. So go on, full on.. Meditate, breathe deeply, exercise or do whatever hocus pocus it takes to focus! Cheers! :D
   

Ten little aliens

Ten little aliens, landed on a beach,
Made the sunbathers,run and screech.
Gobbling the coconuts they jumped on the boards,
And surfed off in the ocean, like curious blue toads!


Owkay, don't always expect sensible poetry from me! ;)

Be Mine

It's that feeling of deja vu,

When someone cute is all around you

You meet them in your dreams,

where you walk by glistening streams

Somehow this time it's different,

stronger,truer, transparent

You don't touch them yet you feel them,

and your mind's rocked with mayhem

Silly mushy thoughts night and day,

Dying to hold their hand and say:

"Be what you are, live as you like,

put that greasy gel, ride that crazy bike

Scream your lungs out or yoddle and shout,

I'll adore you the same beyond all doubt

Tease me to death or chuckle at my taunt

turn up all scruffy,dude, wear what you want!

Be weird, stupid, super-awesome or just fine,

whatever you be, sweet idiot, be mine !"

P.S: Well this my first ever mushy poem, so it might sound cheesy to some.. But for me it's cute :P

Words

Words, words, words..
They can touch someone's heart or tear someone apart..
Use them well- that's an art.
Play with them-hey, that's smart!
Just don't shoot them like a dart,don't hurt with them and be a wart!