Any body who knows me, knows that I’m a sucker for deep thoughts and meaningful conversations. And somehow, thankfully, I was able to find two such idiots to share this obsession with. Therefore, I thought of asking them some thought provoking questions, to see their reactions and understand them better. Because, obviously, I had nothing better to do. It was kind of like my own personal experiment and the two idiots were my lab rats.
Today, it begins.
We all have flaws but only some have the courage to acknowledge them. From this day, I don’t want to run from them. I want to embrace them and call them my own. I don’t want them to be my weaknesses, I want them to be my guide which helps make me a better person – I want to unearth them to show the perfection hungry world how imperfect I am and how perfectly happy I am with it. I am loud, I am ugly, I am not the most intelligent, I am not good at articulating words, I am rude, I am not good as others and I will never be good enough. There are 7 billion of us inhabiting this beautiful planet. There are billions who are probably better than I am in ways I can’t possibly imagine. There will always be someone who is prettier, smarter, funnier, nicer but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters, and that is what I want to acknowledge today. None of it matters when I am trying to be the best I can. None of it matters because my flaws are either inherited or learnt and the fact that I am trying to get rid of them makes me a better person.
Therefore, today, digging begins. I will dig out all my flaws, line them up and do them a makeover. Now, it might take me a lot of time to do that because I know I’ll get lazy at some point of time or I’ll get irritated or I’ll give up or I’ll die. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’ll try and do what is right. I won’t let people blackmail me into changing into a puppet.
I will stop caring what people think because, believe it or not, I am not trying to become a better person so that people start liking me – nuhuh – I am trying to become a better person because I want to. I want to start loving because there isn’t enough love in the world and maybe because I don’t want to be one of them who spreads negativity just because they think they can and just because they haven’t found someone to love them yet. Yes, I want to help children, help control climate change, save tigers, stop antarctica from melting, remove poverty, destroy patriarchy. But, I want to change myself first so that I can tell people, “Look, I love myself, I love this planet and I love everyone on it. So quit hating. Loving isn’t as hard as rocket science, you know.”
And so, today, I promise to try. I promise to spread love and I promise to not procrastinate from doing so. Today, I begin the adventure of daring to believe that I can do something. Today, I start my honest perseverance towards my goal, my ambition and my ideal self.
Wish me luck?
He clothed his motives in the names of virtue, and I have wondered whether he ever knew that, no gift will ever buy back a man’s love when you have removed his self-love.
~John Steinbeck, East Of Eden
I was a wanderer before I met you.
Oblivious to my loneliness,
I used to hop on trains and gaze at stars from my window
Running and jumping gave me thrill,
A thrill compared to nothing when you hold my hand and say those three words.
I used to go to places and watch them through a key hole,
A key hole of my lone experience
But with you, they’re like different planets to me
And every inch of the destination feels like a foreign rock i need to take home,
Not even as a souvenir but as a monument,
Signifying how special and fantastic I feel when I am with you.
You know what happiness and home have in common?
H and of course you.
In fact, you are my home now,
A home to this wanderer
A home, this wanderer can take with him,
A home with whom I can hop on trains and buses,
With whom I can chase uncountable sunsets.
A home that will welcome me no matter how flawed I am
And a home who is beautiful in every possible way.
NaPoWriMo April 2015 Day 4 prompt: Love poems are a staple of the poetry scene. It’s pretty hard to be a poet and not write a few – or a dozen – or maybe six books’ worth. But because so many love poems have been written, there are lots of clichés. Fill your poems with robins and hearts and flowers, and you’ll sound more like a greeting card than a bard. So today, I challenge you to write a “loveless” love poem. Don’t use the word love! And avoid the flowers and rainbows.
Okay. Okay. I know it’s cliched. I am sorry. Really. I couldn’t come up with anything else. Ugh.
And this poem was inspired by two characters of a British serial called Doctor Who – The Doctor and Rose Tyler – because both of them are such cuties that they make me cry every time I think about them. Poor things.
Also, just to clarify, yes, this is a spoken word poem… not exactly spoken out loud. I suck at it, so, no.
So, did you like it? Did you not like it? Was it awful? Was it too cliched? Do tell me! I would love to get feedbacks so that I can improve on this hobby that I have taken up.
You never traced your fingers on my arm
You never felt my throbbing pulse on seeing you
Just an inch away from me, oh goodness
I guess, it was when I lost myself to you.
You were the warm cloth that eased my pain
Existing on this earth – day in, day end.
You were that ignorant, insufferable soul
That made me bleed and made me whole.
You were young, you were spectacular
You were something from a whole new world
And when you went away to where you came from,
And when you lay in my arms that still, starless night
I caught your whisper and released it into the sky,
I turned you into mighty bright stars; up, very high.
‘Orion’ you shall be called from now on, my love
You burnt my soul and so the sky you now burn.
NaPoWriMo April 2015 Day 2 prompt: gaze upward, and write a poem about the stars. You may find inspiration in this website that lists constellations, while also providing information on the myths associated with each one, as well as other salient information. Your poem could be informed by those myths or historical details, by the shapes or names of the constellations, or by childhood memories of seeing them. Any form or style will do.
This poem is narrated by Artemis and is about a greek myth involving Artemis and Orion.