Tomato

The most unnatural thing has happened

Through a crack in my wall, on an area slightly blackened

something green, something tiny has nestled

It has fought, battled and struggled

A tiny plant peeps peeps out each morning

As I leave my house, wishing me goodmorning!

As it grows something more unnatural appears

It’s tomato, my neighbors fear!

A Friend

I am in need of a friend

All I could come up with in the end

Was to cook one up myself

A couple of books off my shelf

A character’s smile, another’s eyes

One’s truth and another’s lies

Birthed from a movie and gown up in another

3 sisters, yes and maybe one brother

Next I stir in religious devotion

And a drop of utmost loyalty, maybe a little obedience

I’m nearly there, one final ingredient

Life, where shall I find life to breathe into my puppet?

How will I push that final button?

I travelled and searched and strived in vain

My friend must remain

Lifeless, simply singing to me in the end

“I need a friend”.

Freedom

I yearn for freedom

I am unchained yet bound to wisdom

let me be foolish and chat with the moon

and break out of my cocoon

let me be undesired

by those who conspired

they do not know the joys of my indiscreet freedom

it is my only Eden.

Wanderer

Pity me not chained conquerors

I have sprouted wings, for I am wanderer.

Thank You, Father!

The right side of a shelf in my room

The left side of the cupboard in my brother’s

My sister’s desk only on Sundays and you were over the moon

A tiny space for you, dear Father

 

That was all he had, the kindest of men

My father, the most generous

Patient, wonderful and wonderful again

Filled with gracious tenderness

 

I will be nothing without your shadow

I will be nothing without your presence

The warm sunlight in frosty snow

You are the protector that brightens and enlightens

 

 

O Sky

You call to me, O Sky

I shall come running by

Sprout wings and fly

Land into the clouds, O Sky.

Books

“But where exactly do these people come from?” I ask

“Are they real or does the creator wear masks?”

I vow to find the truth as I plough

Through books and books as I sow

 

“But where exactly do these characters live?” I ask

I am certain the creator is betraying his task

Oh but I must find out how these emotions grow

And please, how does black on white glow?

 

Yes, I am certain he has some betrayal hidden

For those who could create, is it not forbidden?

And those emotions that play and surround me

Until I am immersed and can no longer breathe

 

But I was so certain it was forbidden to create like this

Yet they do seem to bask in a certain bliss

Should I join and become on

Anxiety

An uneasy wind with persistent wings

Declares me its prey and brings

deeper dread, deeper than fear

I’m afraid I might hear

My own apprehensions in the dizzy silence

I fear distress may resort to violence

If I am made to stay any longer

The trepidation will grow stronger

I must leave their company, the company of all

And hide away in my small

cozy, quiet self

And gaze at my shelf

Pick out another book, Dickens or why not Austen?

And excercising

Rain

He would have blue eyes.

. Eyes not blue like the rain but darker because when it rains the sky gets dark. His voice would be smooth but slightly rough around the edges, and of course loud because the lightening is immaculate and thunder threateningly loud. He would stand in the rain but he wouldn’t be wet, only cold. Not cold like something is cold after being wet once but coldness in its original, raw form.

He would look at me.

That day, with him standing there and looking at me, not avoiding my gaze, not trying to pretend I don’t exist for him, but truly looking at me, into my eyes, he would smile. I would smile back and take one step towards him. He will extend his hand and I will walk closer and take it.

That is when I will dance. Dance not in the rain this time but with Rain.

I will wait, I must

It will rain eventually for me

Then you shall be mine

Ask Me Tomorrow

I grieve today the loss of a dream

A dreamed I birthed and nourished

I have lost it today to life’s barbarous stream

And all its memories that I cherished

So ask me tomorrow how I feel

Judge me not on the smiles I borrowed

I know not whether my heart will heal soon

Ask me tomorrow.