There is a world Whose natives embody magic Where weightless motion is language Every slight curve, a word Meaning tangles and untangles As bodies spiral To connect With such a one as I And I, with my feet rooted on solid ground On what I perceive to be solid ground I perceive again that I am the outsider I perceive again that I must be living in the wrong dimension
*Author’s notes: I recently saw an aerial dance performance by a troupe called Bandaloop. It was breathtakingly beautiful – so much so that I felt I was transported to their world, where our vertical is their horizontal. That performance is the inspiration for today’s poem, which I wrote based on NaPoWriMo.net‘s Day 22 prompt (that is, to write a poem that engages with another art form). You can also check this piece out on Commaful. Happy reading everyone!
Here, on this side It is safe I know exactly What we were And what we are now And most of the time It is enough
But, sometimes When your embrace Feels exceptionally warm Exceptionally long Like a whisper of what could be I find myself There On the other side And I am never quite sure If I am longing Or waiting
And, so easily I return To the side Where I know for sure That I will never lose your embrace Lukewarm, but gentle still Fleeting, but here still This makes sense This is safe And most of the time It is enough
*Author’s notes: Where there is a very thin line between friendship and something more – where the latter is unexplored territory, carrying with it both uncertainty and promise. Where crossing that line is the scariest and bravest thing a person can do. A poem based on Day Thirteen’s prompt from NaPoWriMo.net – to write about something mysterious and spooky. The image attached to this post will probably make more sense on Commaful, so do check this poem out there as well 😀 Happy writing and reading!
When I stood Barely reaching your waist I took from your hands Little toys wrapped in colourful paper Desire, fulfilled Joy, I thought
When I stood Barely reaching your shoulders I took from your hands A slice of cake As I stood in the midst of friends and fallen confetti Acclaim, won Joy, I thought
When I stood My eyes in line with yours I took from your hands My hands, which you held Like you always do And put your hands in mine Like I will do Now that my hands are as warm as yours Warmth, unchanging Joy, I know
*Author’s notes: Writing in a different style today! 🙂 Posting a poem about gifts and joy for National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo), based on the Day Eight prompt from NaPoWriMo.net. I also have this up on Commaful, complete with beautiful pictures, so feel free to check the poem out there too 😀 To all those who are participating in the challenge as well, happy writing!
In a tiny corner of the world (where exactly will not be pinpointed for the Cubs’ privacy), lives a family of bears.
Cub Cub is the youngest cub in the family. She is also the smallest. She hoped that she would at least outgrow Mama, but that never happened. Cub Cub is alright with that though, because she loves Mama a lot.
Dancey Cub is Cub Cub’s Big Sis and bear superstar. When she is not travelling around the globe with her performing arts troupe, she is hibernating at home or signing autographs at the local supermarket.
Sassy Cub is Cub Cub’s Mama and three-time winner of the international Bear Growl Championship. She is also the founder and president of the Dancey Cub and Cub Cub fan clubs, both of which Papa is an automatic member.
Cutie Cub is Cub Cub’s Papa and her number two cutie-pie (second only to baby bears). He keeps up with all the latest bear series and cracks a joke whenever he can. When he does, Cub Cub laughs, sometimes genuinely, sometimes out of pity.
Queen Cub is Cub Cub’s Grandma and is also most likely, a government spy. Once, late at night when the other bears were sleeping, Cub Cub caught her Grandma climbing up a rope ladder attached to a helicopter. Before Cub Cub could say anything, Grandma shook her head and put her paw on her lips. And Cub Cub knew that it would be a secret between her and Grandma forever.
And so, this is the Cub family. Sometimes, they fight. Always, they love. Cub Cub feels that she is surrounded by the best bears in the world. And anyone who says otherwise will just have to face her Grandma.
*Author’s notes: So, this piece is very different from the ones I’ve posted so far – I hope you’re not too surprised! Someone asked me if I write funny stories, and I guess this is my attempt at one (Cub Cub may or may not be me). You can enjoy it on Commaful too! Happy reading 🙂
What was, is. And what is, will be. Yet this place and I remain the same.
Which is beautiful, but sad.
Like the perpetually orange sky over this vast meadow. It is always just before sunset here. The Sun blazes in all its glory, but is still and unmoving and never finds closure.
Beautiful, but sad.
Like the wind chimes that clink each time there is a new arrival. I greet each one as one greets a childhood friend. We talk and laugh and reminisce. For me, it is a single moment, but for them, an entire existence. And all that is left are empty teacups and me on a seat meant for two.
Beautiful, but sad.
Like the words, “I love you”. I knew when you arrived the second time – because no one ever returns – that you were destined to live and love and hurt and break again and again and again, in exchange for soaking up the world’s experiences with all your lifetimes.
And in you, I found a kindred spirit. Not because we live endlessly, but because I saw in you the same longing I carry in myself. The longing to rest.
So when you return and depart, I do not say I love you. Because these words will never encompass everything that was and is and will be between you and me. Instead I say, “I hope I never see you again”.
*Author’s notes: I’ve been wanting to write this for so long. When I dug out the draft from my laptop, I found that I last worked on it in 2016! One of the many pieces I started but never finished. I’m so glad to have finally completed this (phew!) and that I can share it here. I also have this up in beautiful picture book format on Commaful, so do check it out there as well. Enjoy!
Thanks to everyone who started following my blog and who liked my first ever full-length post (Star)! As you can probably tell from my very, very bare homepage, I am a total novice in the art of blogging, social media and writing, in general.
It was only this year that I began to take writing seriously, because there were just so many worlds I created in my mind that I didn’t want to fade away. So here I am, finally giving a form to each world with my words, one story at a time, with the hope of publishing a book one day (one of my lifelong dreams).
So, do stick around with this newbie? Feel free to say hi through comments, email, social media, etc. This young Padawan is always grateful for hellos and new friends!
This world was never meant For one as beautiful as you
“Starry starry night” by Don McLean
The only aspect of this universe I have ever found to be profoundly beautiful were stars. I’m talking about the ones in the pictures, of course. We haven’t had stars in ages. They faded out long ago, after what our ancestors did.
You know, I used to blame them when I was younger. I’d say stuff like, “this is unfair” and “why do we have to suffer because of them?”
Until I realised that I would have done the same if I was in their place. Because that’s the kind of person I am.
You don’t deserve this, though. You don’t deserve this burden they’ve placed on us.
Not when you still sing even though songs died out a long time ago.
Not when you still see hope in a single blooming flower when all others see is cursed land.
Not when you still love, and love with such warmth, because that’s the only way you know how to.
Not when you’re so much like a star. A profoundly beautiful star meant to sing and hope and love in a different world. A world where we can never – should never – reach.
*You can also read this story complete with beautiful images at Commaful.