On the ending note….

I wanted to take all my experiences

the pain, the happiness

the peaceful times, the chaos

the precious moments, the weird ones too

and bundle all of them into a rhyme

but then I realized it already existed

it’s a poem we call ‘life’.

 

Hour 12 : Arigatoo

another hour starts

as the last one ends

and so ends my journey

for today.

I have been here

but for a short while

a moment of happiness

a feeling of belonging

and the spirit of never giving up

this short moment held

all that and more

much more than I could ever write!

#random

closing my eyes

i dream back to the time

when stories made a part of my life

told by my grandma

before turning in for the night

now all there’s left

is the glaring silence of night

not the best lullaby

if you ask me.

Hour 10

In the hush of the canteen

surrounded by rarely seen fir trees

along the concrete path to the university

with hot coffee in my cold hands

I make my way towards the fog

and early morning classes.

Wings of Fire ( a tanka)

With a burning heart

she rose up from the flames meant

to turn her to ash

and like a phoenix with her

wings of fire conquered the sky

Poem #8

childhood was like a dream

carefree, full of possibilities

treasure trove of wonder and curiosity

 

adulthood was a harsh wake-up call

to reality yet surreal

truth and lies woven together

 

so I heard though experienced neither.

#IDon’tKnow

My childhood seems so far away

though I am not yet an adult

not by the definition

the people go

for I have yet to wake up frowning

and fret over stuff a simple smile could solve

I have yet to know that life is not a joke

and stop laughing at my own misfortunes

I have yet to go and think what’s best for me

and not how i could make the day

better for everybody

not an adult, far from childhood

then maybe i am a drifter

yes, I go with the flow

singing with the wind

loving every second for

it won’t point out how tone-deaf i am

my childhood is far away

but life has just begin.

 

Poem #7

Looking out the frosted car window

to that shining orb of light

in the dark, dark sky

the winding mountain path

and trees I have no idea

what to call

I reach out my hand

I don’t know why

to grasp it and the cool window

thwarts my effort

not that it meant something in the first place

though now i have someone

something to blame.

Poem #6

from the high shelf

of a dainty toy store

the pretty doll looks on

as kids of all ages

smile and play and take home

their new playmates

friends, even best friends for life

( or until they overgrow them)

but that’s all she does

she would sigh if she could

oh! how times have changed

she thinks as she waits

once a rare treasure

now she is just another toy

in mass-production

left to wait an eternity

and watch-on from

the high shelf of a dainty toy store.

 

 

(no, I did not write this while watching toy story)

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