There was a girl.

Then she became a man.

Wowie, he thought.

no ghyan-ghyan.

parenthesis

I saw you yesterday-

It was a dream, a mad dream, a bad dream.

But darling, I couldn't call it a sad dream-

They who know Augustine

And the pain of memory

and the burden of sin.

I saw you yesterday

I knew you yesterday-

I virtually knew you.

Nobody reads this except you.

Nobody needs me except you.

Yesterday you wiped my sweat,

Blood and tears and yet...

Nobody heeds me except you.

You know that memory is painful

So what if recollection is gainful?

Try to forget the sorrow

Of an unending tomorrow-

(Nobody, but you.)

And the rebellious smile

And treacherous guile

Of a simulacram of the real pain

Is any pain ideal pain?

This may take a while.

(Nobody, but you.)

Not Waving but Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

-Stevie Smith.

a taste of peach. no, actually eternal sunset.

This is a poem I wrote when I was very sixteen, or wait! Fifteen or fourteen? It is immature and stupid. But this is acknowledging the simple vision of the past, seen through the eyes of disillusioned childhood. Just making acquaintance with not-so-nice (harsh even) realities.

Eternal sunset,orange and red-
The colourless life, a colourful head.
So many sparkling rainbow-like dreams.

Exquisite gardens of blossoming flowers-
Grown over centuries, dead in an hour.
A flickering firefly gleams.

Twilight approaching, sunset shall go-
All of eternity in a singular flow,
The gloaming heralds a darker age.

Darkness forever in the fairyland-
Castles built in the pristine white sand,
Broken and shattered in a fit of rage.

Castles in sand, castles in air-
Illusion here yet delusion there!
How words do change....

Eternal sunshine, orange and red-
Beautiful flowers destined to be dead
Of what variety and range.

P.S.- I am very fond of this poem.

There was a girl. In fact, there were two.

And then again, some poems. :)