//Poem//

He peddles down the street
The wheels of his cycle
whirring

His daughter awaits his arrival
Doll in hand, she ties a ribbon round her waist
red ribbon, unravelled
From an old frock
Little feet tapping on the floor
Impatience
Tied with a red ribbon of serenity
Unravelled from evenings of waiting

The ache in his feet
Forgotten
Lines of laughter deeper than the holes
In the soles of his shoes

He ties the ribbon of waiting
By lifting her in his arms.
The next morning awaits
its coming undone.
but in the moment
A father has his daughter in his arms
A little girl feels like she could fly
They can feel it in their hearts
Beating to the same rhythm
This knot is unbreakable

Like a Storm

We remember moments
They flash among the memories, brighter.
The time we were sitting
Your arm around me
You told me how
the ocean gets quiet
After it swallows the sun whole
The afterglow streaking the sky

The wind pauses
As darkness settles over
Quietly, laying a blanket
over the waters.
In that moment of utter silence,
A leaf rustles
That’s when the roaring begins
That’s when the waves take over
As does this moment
among the well laid-out memories

This one takes over
like a storm

What a Sunset Feels Like – A Poem

Today I noticed

It’s not the just the sun

Who sets

The entire sky lights up

The colours effusing off ecstacy

As the hues dance away,

The clouds are lost

In a slow motion of effervescence –

Wings fly back home,

It all quietens down to

a murmur

As night falls.

Notting Hill : Why I love it so much

It’s 2:40 am, I’ve finished watching Notting Hill a little while ago, and I’m listening to She by Elvis Costello. I’m delirious because of sleep deprivation, nostalgic because I watched this movie after nine years or so, and as always, a little hungry.

If you haven’t watched the movie, and care about spoilers, please close this tab. If not, read on my ramblings, since you’ve bothered to read this far (Seriously though, I appreciate you, a reader of my irregularly updated blog).

Anna Scott was a Goddess, to quote Bernie, William’s best friend. Oh, and how sad was that his ex-girlfriend(William’s) married his best friend. But I really liked Bella, she was witty and cared for William. Also, I’m just going to refer to Hugh and Julia by their own names, cause that comes naturally to me.

Yeah, so the last time I watched this movie was nearly nine years ago, with my sister. She adores Julia Roberts, and likes all things British. I think I like romantic comedies of this era because I watched them with her.

Related image

Hugh Grant is, obviously, unspeakably handsome. I watched his movie with Sandra, Two Weeks notice, just yesterday. Anyway, so Julia walks into Hugh’s life oh-so-casually, and he ends up falling, and she ends up leaving. I won’t even comment on that, no. This happens twice, but the end of the movie had me in tears(no surprise there). Happy tears, just to be clear. Oh, and she gifts him the original of the painting he has in his house. Happiness isn’t happiness without a violin playing goat, anyone?

And his sister, Honey was… for the lack of a better word, eccentric. I mean, just leave the woman alone in the loo, right? But I get the frenzy and the admiration too.  Spike and Honey were really perfect for each other.

And another favourite dialogue when a random fan offers her his number, she says “Tempting… but no.”

Oh wait, the one that takes away the cake is this one.

Image result for i'm just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her

It displayed a vulnerability that’s hard not to like. I don’t think a lot of people understand what that vulnerability is unless they’re the ones experiencing it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from perfect, but I really try.

Anyway, back to Hugh and Julia. The conference is also a really great scene. When the journalist asks her again till when she will be staying in the UK, and she pauses and says “Indefinitely”. My hopeless romantic heart.

I’ll leave a list of songs from the movie here, if anyone’s interested.

She – Elvis Costello

Ain’t No Sunshine – Bill Withers

How Can you mend a broken heart – Al Green

In Our Lifetime – Texas

When You Say Nothing At All – Ronan Keating

From the Heart – Another Level

The Way You Look Tonight – Tony Benett

Moments and Possibilities

Moments into possibilities
This will linger
~David Levithan
If there’s one things I’ve learnt this past year, it’s that life will surprise you. Even when you’re expecting a surprise, it’ll be so different from what you were expecting that it wouldn’t cease to be a surprise. Another thing I’ve learnt as the year was closing off, always flowing against tha current isn’t favorable. Sometimes you need to let go and let things take you with their flow.
The trick is to find the balance between fighting for what you want, and letting go what isn’t meant for you.
I think possibilities lie everywhere, from the tiny drop of dew that plopped onto you head from a leaf this morning, to the vast ocean lapping at the shore, day and night, no matter what. If there’s an idea that exists in the world, there are believers of it somewhere. The idea of parallel universes, dimensions, and time travel intrigue me, these are things people would wave off as science fiction.
Then there are possibilities of things happening in your life, of you doing the one thing you have always wanted to, ending up on a beach on a different continent, where you’d have the salty air invading your lungs, making you miss the lemonade you used to drink at home after a tiring session of cricket in your street. I don’t know what possibilities you imagine, but I hope you know there are thousands of them, floating in a realm, waiting for them to happen. Possibilities you wouldn’t believe if you got to know them right now.
When it gets tough, on some days, the thought of possibilities of things I can’t yet imagine keeps me breathing. I never know, maybe I’ll find myself in a bed and breakfast in Scotland someday thinking about how I was having a rough day and thought of this. I could be drinking coffee in a foreign city, talking to a stranger who’d turn into a dear friend, reminiscing of the friends I have today. Who knows? I’ll tell you. No one. And somehow, that’s a good thing. That means you don’t know what good things are coming your way, and this way you get to give your future, the benefit of doubt.
When you come to think of it each year feels so long, but when you think of time in retrospect, moments are long. Moments linger. And they are brimming with possibilities..

Stars and thoughts

Sitting on a stone bench with the cool wind ruffling my thoughts, my shoes perched on the armrest, I’m gazing at the stars. This is more of a journal entry than a public post, but anyway, here goes.
The citylights are twinkling, fading in and out, just like the mosaic of thoughts in my mind.
Two weeks gone, this year does feel different. I was talking to my cousin about the accomplishments of our lives, and that put things in perspective for me. I can’t really fathom how it’s possible for things, people and situations to seem so insignificant and significant at once.

I’m listening to Lost Stars, the Keira Knightley version.
“Woe is me. If we’re not careful turns into reality.”

I try to picture my life often, how I want the future to look like. Up until last year, everything came to me picture perfect with details, now it’s all a hazy blur. But the blur doesn’t feel wrong, or confusing. The colours are a bit faded, the voices are soft and indecipherable. It feels like getting lost inside a story.

I hear a dog howling, it would’ve spooked me a little, but it doesn’t anymore. The only thing I’m scared of anymore, is humans.

I’m on a family vacation, and everyone is in their rooms. Having tea, I imagine. And here I am, alone, looking at the stars. This feels peaceful. The cool breeze of desert winters, the sky full of stars, a city twinkling below me.

Vacation ends tomorrow, but I’m actually looking forward to going back home. Going back to college. The thought of travelling for tomorrow is tiring me already. But after all those hours on wheels, then in the air, and then back on wheels would end up with me reaching home, so it’s all good.
Au revoir for now.

What becomes of the broken hearted?

They live, between shards of glasses cutting them and soft rose petals soaking the blood, and the softness healing their bruises.

They live folded inside the silence of words left unspoken, of books, left unopened.

Quietly they tiptoe through empty hallways of memories long faded, the ghosts of their sounds echoing faintly.

They peek inside doors only to find fading silhouettes.

Yet they softly whisper words of love, because they know someone somewhere needs it.

They smile at the strangeness of it all, a wistful kind of happiness taking them by surprise.

Because no one expects the broken hearted to be happy, not even themselves.

Cold Winter Mornings

I remember how the birds sang when it was five in the morning and the stars were still visible.

I remember when I tiptoed out, trying to be as light on my feet as humanly possible.

I remember how the chill of winter seeped through my sweater onto my shivering skin.

I remember how my pet barked and the sound echoed into the dewy dawn.

I remember how my eyes adjusted to the dark, and my skin to the cold.

I remember when my feet on the gravel made me cringe.

I remember how the warmth of my blanket seemed like welcoming arms.

I remember running up to the terrace

I remember seeing the sun paint the sky with the color of beginnings.

I remember the day I snuck out to see the sunrise.

I remember what it felt like to be ten

I remember what it feels like to be mesmerized by the beauty.

I remember, because these winter mornings, I still am.

Thoughts on Howl by Allen Ginsberg 

These are my thoughts on a poem called Howl. It’s a stream of consciousness piece so it’s completely unedited and I change the topic quite abruptly, sometimes. I’m pretty sure you won’t find this blogpost very interesting if you haven’t read the poem, but who knows maybe you will find that it has intrigued you to read the poem, so here goes.

Since last night I am studying this poem called Howl by Allen Ginsberg. I’ve been writing it down even thought it’s huge, becayse I analyze better when I write. It’s a very angry poem, the poet is angry at the world, at the society, because they shun the ‘best minds’ of our generations. According to him, the best minds are the drug addicts and world travellers, not the conventional best minds we would think of, going to Ivy League and going on to become lawyers and doctors. These are the people who are “purgatorized their torsos with dreams, alcohol, waking nightmares and drugs. They even tried to smuggle Marijuana from Mexico to New York city, but got busted. They talk and talk, for seventy hours and they jump off everything: bridges, the Empire State Building, even the moon. The poet seems to have a wild imagination. He says that universities i.e. Out education system, encourages wars. The poet empathizes with the homeless, saying that the night feels like a grandfather to them as they illegally travel on freight trains to the countryside. He says they write epics in the night that turn out to be scribbles in the morning. He addresses this poem to Carl Solomon, a friend at a Psychiatric institution he made when he was caught with drugs and pleaded insanity. It’s a wild poem, that’s for sure. But I like how the best minds of this generation aren’t the ones sitting in a study, or making notes in classes. 

    There is this one line that I loved:

    • A lost batallion of platonic conversationalist jumping down the stoops off fire escapes odd windowsills of Empire State out of the month, 

    That’s it. Thanks for reading. 🙂