Poetry

SONDER- Slam poetry

      Slam Poetry    

Sonder
is to realise
That everyone you recognize
Has lived a tale
You’ll never fully unveil :
A tale with Fisherman knots and an intricate plot,
A tale that can’t be explained or taught.

This is just as true for you and me
As for the stranger on the street.
We are walking stories, talking experience,
We hide siren alarms and syringes
up our sleeve
and paint our scars with Mascara
In the tales we weave.
Torn. Worn. Forlorn.
Yet we never cease to believe.
So when whispers of envy tickle my ears
I laugh at the fickle truth.

Sonder
A whisper says: She’s so together
Together?
I’ve been broken in ways you can’t imagine
Like a fish carved apart into gill and fin.

Sonder
A whisper says: She’s brave
Yes I’ve braved the monsters
Not those under the bed, but the ones in my head.
Not those that hide behind curtains,
but those that crawl into hearts.

Sonder
A whisper says: she’s so free
Free, indeed, from the bonds I’ve been tied to,
From the many ways I’ve been lied to,
When the clock ticks bedtime only when validation strikes,
When thoughtless words metamorphosize into sharpened spikes.

Sonder
A whisper says: She’s complete
Depleted I was once,
Though now replete.
Maimed much, aimed at,
On the end of a tight death grip
Of an invisible White Walker’s fingertip.

I wiped off the grease,
Picked up piece after piece,
I’d signed no lease with life,
It was my job
to find peace with strife.

So I bundled up the loss and guilt,
Tossed them into my patchwork quilt.
When I embraced the monsters at night
I realised they stopped putting up a fight.

Carefree today came with money,
To land at the hills, I crossed pits many.

Yet, if you take a very close look,
You can read some pages of my book.

See the war’s blood red in the blush of my cheeks,
The turns of fate in my twisted green veins,
Find the whiplashes on the creases of my palm,
And you’ll uncover the story behind this picture of calm.

That’s why
When I see
A sea of people
Who always seem
complete and replete,
fair and free,
I’m reminded that they’re
stories within stories.

And I whisper to myself
Sonder.

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Myriad Musings, Poetry

Into an amnesiac’s memory- Poem

I live, as though, in another’s stead,

Images Crisp, flash in my head.

Dancing around the shrubs, one summer break,

Served sweet potato fries and delicious steak.

A spring evening, walking down the aisle,

After years of courting, married off in style.

As autumn hit, I hugged my willow tree,

Worried it would shed: My last memory.

Now winter is here, I’m only a recluse,

All it brought me was apathy and abuse.

I’m told my remembrances are false,

By aliens who define me by my flaws.

Apparently, there was no beckoning food,

No diamond rings or the willow wood.

Yet, these pictures light up a present bleak,

Give me strength, when I feel weak.

So I let my desperation and hope speak

And hold on tight with all my might

To these vivid images that just feel right.

Wipe away these memories, my past is dead,

Believe you me, with no question of ‘instead’.

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Myriad Musings, Poetry

Spotlight- Poem

Catapulted into frenzy!

Life snatched out of helpless hands,

Time ephemeral as shifting sands.

Flashlights and fickle fame,

I miss when I was a nobody

And life wasn’t as gaudy.

When I had four four AM friends

Instead of fevered, frantic fandom.

Solitude stubbornly evades me

What’s the world but one giant CCTV ?

Every word and deed, weighed beyond rational need;

The critics’ gleeful feed, just to watch me bleed !

Waiting like hawks to dent my image

Clawing away until I’m bent out of shape;

To force me to drown,

So they can usurp my crown !

Shielded and sure, that was the promise :

Flawed ramifications of a fallacious premise.

WordPress Daily Prompt : Catapult

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