24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Writing is like a building,
with a roof made up of love
a wall of hatred.
I’m a writer,
I might pinch or punch your ceilings,
Do not describe my words as your feelings,
I have the word you have the feelings.
Not yet old, but still a young lad.
Needn’t praise yet or a windfall,
The Lord hath sent the lofty rainfall.
I was taught how to read not write.
Now that I do both, I own a light
TIME
A stitch in time, saves nine
Alas time can never be a slave of mine
A low battery can pretend to slow down time
But, even the theorems of Einstein can never stop time.
Make sure to spend time with your friend,
You never know when your friendship might end
Make sure to spend time in your house
Create beautiful memories with your kids and spouse
Spend a lot of time nurturing your hobby,
Before you become old and just idle in the lobby
Utilise every moment of time like a boss
If we waste time, it will only be our loss.
BY
SHREYA SURAJ
I used to think
That everyone would get nervous in a roomful of girls
That it was perfectly normal
To have your heart skip a beat
When a pretty girl smiles at you
You just want to be friends, right?
I was assuaged
By the “correct” feeling for boys
Skipping hearts
Blushing cheeks
Irony has always been best appreciated
In hindsight
There was a girl
A close friend
Who delicately removed my shirt
And painted on my bare back
And I guiltily imagined what it would be like to kiss her
I had dreams
Where my hands and lips
Betrayed my desires
But how much could a dream mean anyway?
And then I held her hand
And leaned into her laugh just a little too much
And followed her to her bedroom
Where she curled into my side
And tilted her beautiful smile up to me
And I finally fucking realized
Muddle
My mind is a puddle mush
galumphing dumping muddle
as my eyes mish-mash
and cross over running cuddles,
streamlet dreams of sleep.
My heart double thumps
in scheming driblet themes
as my ears wish-wash
and skewer through sunny wobbles,
dreamlet streams of the deep.
My soul cuddle pushes
in theming droplet schemes
as my hands slap dash
and scoop under wobbly runnels,
deeplet steeps of sleepless dreams.
Noise and matatus and hawkers,
Air-conditioned offices and mansions,
Indians and Africans and Caucasians,
Reggae and Hip hop and Genge and Rock,
Opulence and oppression,
Brutality and beauty,
Intoxication.
SHOW THE EARTH THAT WE CARE
The Earth is clean and green
But humans are selfish and mean
The flora, fauna, water and tree
Are all provided to us for free.
Even though we have all live on Earth
Only a few know it’s worth
The human mind is always filled with greed and lust
Smoke from the factory fills the air with smoke and dust
The oceans are filled no more with the turtle and the fish
It seems to have only plastic which comes free with every dish
Every part of the Earth is filled with pollution
But nobody has the time to find any solution
The Earth cries as it gets looted for its coal and oil
But the greed of man never lets him recoil
Animals cry as they are killed for their fur and hair
But humans are interested in only becoming a millionaire
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction
Spoiling nature will damage the life of our future generation
Recycle, reduce, reuse and share
Start showing the Earth that we care.
BY SHREYA SURAJ
man
you know
it is a bit of a mess
not necessarily dirty but sort of untidy
like
if it were a woman
it would look like the one that lives there
kind of frazzled and blemished
a haphazard and lived-in space
a well-traveled suitcases-not-yet-unpacked space
a place that has housed many guests
fed them and let them rest their heads
but not like, in excess
not really
you know
man
it’s more like
a comfortably untended-to mess
the floors were swept in the past couple weeks
at least
it got enough sleep the night before last
and it gets organized fast
a loose bun holding tangled hair
some pieces out of place but
sexy like that
but not like, overly sexy
not in a try-hard kind of way
it’s just a mess
like the woman that lives there
dazzling in her disarray
a color scheme only half-committed-to
because like
who even has the time
you know
man
you get what I mean
there are fucking coasters here
a goddamn shoe rack
those soft throw pillows
she must be a real classy lady
or maybe she at least tries to be
forgets to wash her face before bed occasionally
but brushes her teeth for twice as long
as most people do
it may be a mess
and she may be one too
but both are welcoming
in a selective sort of way
which honestly is just
another thing
that isn’t really what it looks like
A Losing Battle
Undulating planes of green
Lush with summer rain
Eroded by wind and weather
So they never look the same
Kissed by sea tossed pebbles
Carving diverse new courses
A land locked in an age old struggle
Beaten into submission by crazy white horses
