Poetry

Cwtch : Poem

Cwtch (rhymes with 'butch') is a Welsh term to mean a safe storage space or a cupboard. It also signifies a meaningful embrace to offer safety to a loved one. Hugs are for everyone, cwtches are for a special few. I dedicate this poem to anyone who's had moments of touch starvation in the pandemic, and could use a virtual hug.



My chest harbouring
two heartbeats
Head perching securely
nested on sturdy shoulders

Our right palms find harmony
thumb unveiling fate lines
Held hands hold hostage
secrets spoken in silence

You cruise through my curls
unsnarling knots
unravelling me

I support the small of your back
lest you disintegrate in the
ecstasy of our union

Eyes closed
See through the soul's shine
Treasure chests within

An embrace
Explosive electricity at first
Then a sweet, settled melody
sounds only we are privy to

Tasting safety
wholesomeness of home
Hugs are delicacies

Scents speak
an exquisite language
No words - yet
Meaning abundant

Sun-kissed smiles
One feathery curve
stroking, soothing sores

Windows closed
Freedom of wind flows
within our sheltered fort
Expansive as starry skies

Our feet still- as do the
Short and long hands
no miles to traverse
Here we find home 

We create a force field
Alienating the world- yet
Containing it
All at once.

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan


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Poetry

Within Arm’s Reach: Poem

Blessed with Abundance,
Buoyant with Curiosity,
Cradled in Comfort,
Cajoled by Peace,
Elevated with Experience,
Elated by Epiphanies,
Serenaded by Success, 
Stroked softly by Grace,
Cheered by Adventure,
Cherished with Love, 
Guarded by Courage,
Garlanded with Victory,
Fueled with Motivation,
Freed by Belief,
Powered with Enthusiasm,
Protected by Faith, 
Radiant with Novelty,
Resplendent with Content,
Guided by good Intent,
Gifted eternal Well-being.
Within arm's reach,
The Ideal is now Tangible. 
Copyright © Roshni Ramanan
 
 

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Poetry

I call Shotgun: Poem

I watch the sojourn
of the short hand, the long hand
as I tumble across your tumultuous thoughts
Still a piece in an unfinished puzzle

Am I the emblem of tomorrow?
or the faded legend from yesterday?
One time wonder, an old hit song
To be heard on the radio
To be seen, nowhere

Whims and fancies
keep me company
we play tug of war
I’m both sides
Even when I win, I lose

Dolls fall prey to confusion
when the puppeteer’s mind is unmade
Paused life in paintings
as the palettes change midway

There’s freedom
in being a character
authored by another’s imagination
Oh, The suspense
Am I to be a page? A chapter?
In the novel- or is it?

A star in the night sky
now lighting up screens
It’s all the same
I’m one of many

I expanded my sights
from one round globe
to the two spheres- your eyes
biting off more than I could chew

In my eagerness to call shotgun
I gave up the driver’s seat
to my destiny
Will you swerve left
or steer me right?
Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

 

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