The Dying Dragonfly

The dying dragonfly
Didn't have a memory
Or it would see
The lovely old days
That it spent away
Cozily, on velvety petals
Chatting in a lilting buzz
Laughing and drinking
The sweet nectar
That the flowery friends
Offered in their palms

The dying dragonfly
Now flew inside
To the artificial light.
White and bright,
A cheap imitation
Of the almighty.
Buzzing frantically
Breathing the rainy air
For the last time.
And suddenly weightless,
It falls down.

Finding Solace

I want some solace.
I find it a lot nowadays.
And then it escapes.
Sneaky solace slides away.
I found solace in a picture today.
A whale peacefully swimming under the moon.
Probably making the soft sound of living.
Not hating. Not hurting. Just living.

A Poem

A poem is stuck somewhere inside me.
I try coughing it out.
But it has its own plans.
It'll sit there, brewing in feelings.
Till I have a boiled hot mess.
Only if I had let it out.
Note to self: a poem is nature's call.
Just shit it out.

Winter and My Skin

Winter mornings are special
The winters are soft here
I feel it on my skin,
As soft as the winter
They like each other,
My skin and winter.
They are made of the
Same material, of doubt
And of beauty that is
Hard to find.
I wrap a shawl to keep
My skin away from
Winter, what if I learn
The freedom of winter?
Silent and cool and calm
In her own element,
In some places, dangerous
In others, a grace.

The Wild

Through the wispy golden grass,
Stealthy green eyes watched.
A silent purr,
A muffled growl.
The golden paws pressed
Over the golden grass,
Swift but not hasty.

The vision was clear,
There was nothing else,
Only the graceful fawn,
Leaping in the sunshine,
Bright eyed and young.
Unaware and naive.

But instinct flows freely
In the wild blood,
In young and the old'
The prey and the predator.

The sinewy golden body
Darted across the grassland.
Focussed eyes, focussed energy,
Towards the naive meal.

Ha! Naivety doesn't exist
In the wild grasslands.
Young or old, prey or predator'
It is all about survival.

The joyful leaping,
Now a run for life.
The clever fawn zigzags
Over the golden land.
The chase, the thrill
Pumping blood and adrenaline.
Bared teeth and agile bodies.
A race for life or death.

Swift, but not swift enough.
Naive but inherently clever.
The lion will wait for
Another naive one.
It's just not the fawn's
Last day of life.

Words that Mock Me

I look around for the words,
Desperately grasping for them
But they escape me
And shamelessly gather around
The burning thought
Like clueless people
Around a fresh roadkill
Who crowd and watch

I blindly reach for them,
They slip from my fingers,
And laugh mockingly
At my desperation.

One by one they gather
Around my helpless mind
Laughing and mocking till
It is loud and suffocating,

Then all I can do is
Swat at them like flies
So, they retreat back
Into the crevices of my brain.
Carefully watching for
My next helpless thought,
To come and laugh
And mock and hurt
To render me a mess
Again and again.

Beauty

Find the beauty
I look I look
Sometimes I find it
And it slips away
I look in the mirror
It stares at me blankly
And with a blink
Disappears

I find it in music
In words, in tastes.
On my skin and in scents
But it is flighty
Find it find it.

Mirror Girl

Mirror girl was funny once
She imitated me
She stuck her tongue out if I did.
Her timing was impeccable.
She smiled if I did
So I loved her.
She didn't sugarcoat,
She was honest
So I loved her.

Sometime, I don't remember
I looked at her on a bad day
She'd usually cheer me up
Make a funny face or
Imitate my sulky expression
But she did none of that
And that's when I saw...

She was ugly and depressing
She was everything I didn't want to be
I didn't love her anymore
She made me cry
So I hated her.

She sneaked into windows and lakes
And I pushed her away
I hated her
She was hideous.
A failure...a reminder.

But one day,
I don't remember when
I was smiling about
A silly squirrel outside
When the mirror girl came
On the window glass.
She smiled at me

Happy to have met me.
Her eyes said,
'Love me again please.'
I stuck my tongue out at her
And so did she
I felt at peace at last.
We laughed together.
Glad to be friends again.
She was funny sometimes.

Dusty Memories

I blow away the dust to look.
There it is, glowing.
As clear as the day it formed.
The sky, the grass and the laughter.
I want to go back. It is impossible.
Do I really want to go back? No no!
Because I know what followed. The pain.
That is it. The pain. The dust.
I blow the dust away. It tickles.
My nostrils flare and achhoo.
The dust will always affect me.
The pain will always remain.
And then I think... and laugh.
It is a silly, snotty sneeze.