Shrouded

I haven't seen 
your tears
since I last
hit you,
I haven't
seen you
defy,
I haven't
seen you 
wary
or watchful,
I haven't
seen you
hurt,
I haven't
seen you 
struggle,
I haven't seen you
wipe the blood
off your bruised mouth
or drape your blues
in golden yarns.

Now that I think of it
I haven't seen you around
For a long,
long while

Now that I think of it
I know I haven't killed you
But I don't think you're alive
After all.

Maya (Haunted)

Let me tell you why I liked him.

I liked him because he was me. He was like a lone yellow bell by a mushy patch in an abandoned corner. He lived by the worn sheets of prime, and hungry dreams of his bygones. You could say I was bowled over by the way his eyes sought mine, from miles away.

I liked him for his redundant silence. With him, I explored the rims of relationships, like a godless fanatic hugging the swells of our charming faculties. I was madwoman breaking the shackles of all that I believed bound me to earth, only, only to wake up pinioned to a devastating fall.

What was I after? You, or me? 

Why, after all this time, did you pin me to my bed and punch my guts till I woke up embroiled, and begged your echoes to stop beating in my heart?

Gawd nos wat!

I thot dat I red n wrot welDat ma langwej ws ma 💪
I gt a lotta 👏 & 💐 
Bt wat gud did it do?

"Langwej iz arbitiraryrat….r wateva!"
Dey sey, "don push us 2 speek urs
Thingz chenge, v otta muv past
Don fors ur 👅 on2 arse".. ha! Gotcha
Nw hw u gonna muv pazzat?
"🤷 V don care. U get us, V get ya
Dats al dat matrz
Don b sed 🍯 (hunny)" dey sey
"Dis iz d way uf lyf!"

Nw I kno y wat none mekz sens
Itz d mynd datz gun dawn d drain
Al I wanna know is tho
Weder itz urs r myn?!?!

An Unexpected Turn Around

I’ve walked miles, but I know I haven’t moved,
A piece of my past is frozen
Derelict, rust rouging the dusty floors,
Somewhere, I’m lost exactly where,
Between all that I wanted to be
And all that I chose to take with me.

It should have been easy
The walk away from memory,
It should have been easy, the forgetfulness, the ignorance, the just-letting-it-all-go-away!

Like the scheming predator
Behind the fresh grass, plodding on the wet soil
For the moment of weakness in the eyes of its prey
That bliss of life
Before the flash, the crumbling mettle
Unguardedness,
That stumbled behind the curtains.

I know I will still keep on going, prancing to every temper, rough or rude,
Polished or true
Never turning around to the existence
Left to fend for itself!

മറന്നതല്ല

മറന്നതല്ല,
ചില്ലുകൊട്ടാരം തകർന്നപ്പോൾ
മനസ്സിന്റെ ഒരു കോണിലേക്ക്
ആ ചാരുകസേര
ആരും കാണാതെ
ആർക്കും കൊടുക്കാതെ
ഒന്ന് മാറ്റി ഇട്ടതാണ്.

ഞാൻ ഉണ്ട്
വീണിടത്ത് തന്നെ
ഇപ്പോഴും

As Long As She Loves You

She writes everyday
In her journal
On her phone
In the air
In her sleep.

She concocts new stories
She colors her words
In her imperfect life
She fills some spaces
And leaves some to be

There are new cobwebs
The dust has snowballed
But her strides are firm
Her head is high
Though the bruises are bloody.

There is no panacea
She knows,
But she loves her red
Her shades of blue
And all of life's hues.

She's been broken
She's been beaten
She's had her fill
Of all her gashes
And her gores

Yet she's risen
Time and ever
She's picked her pieces
And ground the edges
And fixed them again.

She's vulnerable
She can be shattered anew
But she can't be killed
Or be discarded
As long as she loves you!

Indian Coffee House- Self Reflection

I noticed this cartoon of the Indian Coffee House with a cute caption sometime in February. It brought back memories of some of the best times I spent in there with my lover. The hot masala dosas and coffee were my favorite as always. The bustling that was for a change, soothing, and the different aromas. The normal branches to the spiraling towerheads. The secret getaways to the oh-so-what casual brunches. The Indian Coffee House has seen it all from our end.

Talking about ends, what hasn’t the Indian coffee house seen! Born out of the grand geopolitics that excluded the natives to coffee that flourished in Chennai (then Madras) and Kolkata (Calcutta), the India Coffee House gave way to the Indian Coffee House in 1957, now run by 13 co-operative societies affiliated to All India Coffee Workers’ Co- operative Societies Federation. And now for over a decade above it’s golden jubilee, the Indian Coffee House has catered to the tastes of the tongues and hearts. It has seen numerous political discussions, both wise and haphazard decisions taken, the wanderlust wayfarers, the rushing workers gulping down their breakfasts, the unassuming couples, the occasional dreamers, the exhausted families with uncontrollable kids, and what not. It has an interesting time travel that has woven itself into the heralds of history.

The Indian coffee house has forever been a nostalgic memory for me. Sitting in one of the tables and swilling in the world around, I find myself feeling smiling at all the emotions hanging in the air. Every one who walks through the doors are high in anticipation. This coffee house has to it a certain magic that pulls in more of the self-reflecting crowd than any other food chain in this country. However, looking at it now, I see that with the boom in the hotel industry, the indian coffee house is slowly taking the backseat in it’s journey. The awe for the seeming luxuries have pulled crowds to different directions. Well, the varied tastes in food too

I’ve asked my man to take me to one of the Indian coffee houses sometime again, without the kids. Just to reminiscence. Just to look into his eyes and see what else flows from this heart…

Maya- From the daily diary

It was more of a childlike fantasy, trying to be as much similar as we could. I discarded a few habits, a few likes. It was enough knowing that you’d be happy with what I did.

Like the multi-wheeled metals that held innumerable needs and dreams, drudging along daily by the same paths, it was a point of my life that seemed to copy the trains I traveled by. It had begun breaking into a million pieces. I had no one to blame. I truly believed I’d passed the point of no return. Until I saw you.

I’ve lived through many colors. I love colors so much that I’m senseless when I comes to good combinations of them. As in fondness. Like how I make senseless decisions and love them for it. You were one of them. A color that kept coming back to me. You were a reminder of all that I had lost, and yet I loved you with every piece of my being. We shared all that we enjoyed together, and tweaked the bits that didn’t. I let go of all that you didn’t approve. That wasn’t a red flag for me, but I did wonder if it were. Now I know it isn’t. All that I thought I lost has come back to me. And more. With more passion and thoughtfulness. With more love and tenderness.

You may have gone, but you left behind a piece of yourself in me. I have nothing to give you, except let go of what you bought me the most.

New Site

At a time when I was too lazy to even acknowledge my laziness, I dropped two sites after gathering a decent number of readers, and began this one, finally vowing not to let Poetry Palette go. But then, I used to write only poems and discarded the rest midway without ever posting them.

But now though, I’ve begun writing serious stuff too. And have posted them here as well! So for my and my sake alone, I’ve opened another site for all the serious stuff, and will retain this one for poetry and fictional work.

So those who did take the time to read through till here, do also follow me at http://www.thecognitivemiss.wordpress.com