Pages of Poetry

In ominous shadows and ominous dreams As she slips away into the night I give chase and scream Wait! She flits through moonlight and cloud Shadow and shadow and running after a shadow Chasing and running and my feet are hitting the rooftops of this city with all their might As she runs away from me deeper into the night I can't breathe I can't breathe You're so much faster than me I scream and I cry and my tears whip the dark I broke you I hurt you I pushed you off the ledge And now I'm falling I'm falling I'm - down! I look in the mirror and all I see is you Spectre, don't haunt me, don't leave me alone Spectre, wait, I didn't mean to say - Spectre! - she's gone, she's gone, she's gone.

I think unrequited love stories are some of the worst representatives of the phenomenon of romanticization. You can romanticize your love for five, ten, fifteen years - but eventually the rose tint on your glasses will weather away and all you'll be left with is a brutal, clear hindsight. Unrequited love stories in media are so well-loved (the irony) because there is an end to them - and more often than not, the closure is a happy one. We love these stories because we love the excitement of the chase, the romanticized sadness and longing, the hope that the loved one will, one day, turn around and say "I love you, too." There is a whole world of possibility - but it is very neatly contained in start and end brackets. You know that the happy ending is on its way, but the time frame is just long enough to give you the suspense and excitement of a real, honest-to-God unrequited love story. But since time in media only moves as fast as you do, a whole lifetime of love, happine...

Black waves, roiling on a black sea Jagged stood the rock, piercing a sky torn By the brightest silver My bright blue canoe, my bright blue canoe My white oars, my white anchor My bowed head, and salty tears swelling the sea I cared too much about staying afloat To worry about being struck by sky-electricity Jagged rock, it loomed large Bright blue struck black Blue never stood a chance I can't sail, I can't sail the sea My bright blue canoe, hope-blue canoe, Faith-blue canoe, and trusty anchor My spindly oars, patting the water Reassuring the water As the sea laughed at me And the sea laughed at me And tossed me in the air And the sea dragged me down And tumbled me over Cat and mouse, cat and bird, Sea and me.

we used to sit and talk so cynically but now you ’ve gone and done it you’ve gone and broken your heart now whom I will laugh with about the tragedy of love you’ve gone and broken your heart and left me behind. I’m sick of it all let’s move out into the sun and not think about love this is so messy let’s clean it up let’s not talk about things we weren’t meant to think about anyway because if you ask me honestly it’s not worth it. don’t mistake me. I’m a hardened skeptic because if I weren’t I would be much unhappier than I am right now love is a spider eating away at my brain so I shoo it away not kill it, because you can’t kill love I shoo it away but it comes back and tenaciously builds cobwebs in the corners of my mind until until I think I might explode under the pressure so I try to step back step away but it dogs my footsteps I’m afraid, a little, of dogs I’m afraid of love that’s it, yes I’m a...

Three trees stood in a wood Their leaves whispering to each other Three gossipy old trees. Three trees stood in a wood They had eyes of red Red, almost brown. Three trees stood in a wood Red eyes see everything that Brown and blue and green do not. Three trees stood in a wood Their thoughts are slow and black They think for a thousand years. Three trees stood in a wood A black thought is never good An old thought is always evil. Three trees stood in a wood Let the dead lie Under their shadowy branches. Three trees stood in a wood The dead whisper their pale secrets Into their sinuous roots. Three trees stood in a wood Birds rest not here Here in the home of the dark. Three trees stood in a wood These branches never bowed With heavy, sweet fruit. Three trees stood in a wood Woe befall he who sees them Evil haunts the axe-man. Three trees stood in a wood Drinking in the rain greedily And smacking their red lips. Three trees stood in a wood Old wood may splinter But...

This is the fourth in a series of poems written to be performed as spoken word poetry. The common theme is mental illness. This particular poem deals with bipolar disorder. Hello, hello, hello. I'm sorry, I'm just a little nervous. Please don't mind. It's just - Well, if I tell you a secret, Can you keep it? I'm actually a king. Yes! It's true Maybe you don't believe me - You really don't believe me But it's true! Maybe, I can show you my crown some day You'd like that? You'd like that? Listen to me! Why aren't you listening? What is it about me that makes you turn away, That makes you ashamed, Why won't you look at me? Just look at me, damn it! You poor, pathetic little thing. You'll never know what it feels like, To swing up into the sky, floating on clouds, Giving a new meaning to the word high And then suddenly swooping down, And doing a loop-de-loop, And going up, and down, And flying, Flying fa...

This is the third in a series of poems written to be performed as spoken word poetry. The common theme is mental illness. This particular poem deals with anxiety disorder. I'm a quiet guy. My friends will tell you I'm a nice guy. The girl I like will tell you I'm a sweet guy, But she doesn't see me that way. But that's okay! I don't want to scare them away. Because it's true. I am a quiet guy. But inside my head, Things are so - damn - loud! You're not good enough. You will never be good enough. My friends will tell you I'm a friendly guy. But what they won't tell you, What they don't know Is that I rely on the voices around me To drown out the ones in my head. You're not good enough. You will never be good enough. Stop! Just - leave - me - alone! I can't handle it Some days, I want to step out of myself I want to abandon this ship Because it is surely going to drown. You're not good enough. You wi...

This is the second in a series of poems written to be performed as spoken word poetry. The common theme is mental illness. This particular poem deals with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Loop, loop, loop. Loop, loop, loop, loop, l - lo - loop, loop, loop, LOOP! Loop. So many loops! Phew! Nice to meet you! I'm just stopping here, on my way back from class. What's that? Yes, I seem a bit restless, don't I? It's nothing, I'm always like this. Wait, are you going to eat that? Here, have some hand sanitizer. What do you mean, you don't want it? Here, take it! Take it, please! Don't do this! Wait! Where are you going? Please! I'm sorry, come back! Can't you see, it's killing me When you don't even realize All the germs getting under your skin Filling each and every pore Bad things will happen The less you take care, and the more Nonchalant you are, about things like these Can't you see, I'm worried to death I'm worr - w...

This is the first in a series of poems written to be performed as spoken word poetry. The common theme is mental illness. This particular poem deals with depression. Some days, it hurts. It hurts when they tell me Smile, girl, smile Stand taller, be bolder, Put yourself out there. It hurts, because I can't. But most days, it's just…nothingness. I am empty. A void, a black abyss. So empty, I can't breathe Can't eat, can't sleep. I've become so numb, Just like that Linkin Park song, It ate Chester up, you know. The same thing that's eating me. Shhh! Not so loud. Society might hear. The most dangerous word, More than rape, murder, war, Something no one can see My shameful little secret. After all, all I need to do Is stop being so sad . Cheer up! Smile! Stop pretending. Putting me in more classes, Music, dance, football. Bringing my two friends over. Ah, poor parents of mine, I salute you for trying. But whatever you thr...

Why would you stay when you could leave? Why would you be blind when the world can see? Why would you pay when it's all for free? Why would you rejoice when you can grieve? Do they shackle you? Do they cage your spirit, And bind your mind? Do they lock up your desires And teach your emotions to die? When do you want to cease to be? When do you want to rest for eternity? When would you like to say goodbye? When would your soul like to fly? Tell me,and I shall see. Tell me,and I will try. Tell me,and I will break your cage And allow you to run free, and freely die. Your prison is made up of you Its walls are made up of them But,my dear,when the door is open, Why,o why would you stay?

I'm getting lost in the forest of your lies. Tripping on the roots of your smiles Trying to find shelter under The trees of your words. Gathering your white lies Swallowing them to survive. I listen to the music of your sweet voice, It disorients me. I believe that the lake With the waters of the truth is near. But it is hidden deep within The forest of your lies. The wild beauty of your betrayal The soothing green of your deception Makes, for me, even more enchanting This forest of your lies.

What is freedom? Is it the open sea? Is it the wilderness, where only the toughest survive? Is it the blue, blue sky, where birds reign? Do you envy them their wings? I do. What is freedom? Is it the inky blackness of the night, that hides you from prying eyes? Is it the glorious sunrise that takes your breath away? Is it the stillness of the grave? Do you envy the dead their silence? I do. What is freedom? Is it a far-away land where nobody knows you? Is it home where nobody judges you? Is it the blessed mindlessness of the crowd? Is it the beautiful solitude of having yourself to yourself? Do you envy you your thoughts? I do. What is freedom? I envy the birds their wings, the dead their silence, you your thoughts. But, and listen close, Would you like to know what freedom is to me? It is love. My mother's love, wrapping around me like a cocoon, the softest cocoon I have ever known Her soft voice, and her smile And the sound of her voice And her war...

She watched. Fingers linked with fingers in an easy hold Elated smiles upon both their faces They seemed to be without a care in the world With eyes only for each other. Yes, they were happy, They could not, in their happiness, See the woman standing alone Sadness in her deep eyes. To him, the past. To her, a stranger. And then, he beheld her. He willed himself to look away He could not afford to draw back Could not afford to stop And give her the gift of a smile. She willed herself to look away She could not afford to succumb now Could not afford herself The luxury of tears. They went their separate ways To meet nevermore Or so she thought Or so he hoped. But they did, years later, When young love’s sparkle had died out Older, wiser, more mature, But inside, still hurting. And the sight of each other Reopened old wounds Brought back memories They’d rather not remember. But now, by his side, An emptiness. By hers, A hus...

Blue ink Down the long,thin digit Looks like a molehill But,like faith, Can move mountains. Or,at least, the giants That pretend to rule Miraculous blue ink           Deciding the fate Of a few                              Who decide the fate       Of the teeming multitudes. As serpentine queues snake their way Through cities and towns and villages No one dares to speak, to say Who they elected king (Or queen,as it may be For India throbs with diversity.) And they exit the booth With solemn faces and jubilant hearts At having,yet again, Shaped the fate of the nation.

It was a bright, sunny, morning, and I woke up feeling pleasantly happy. My sleepy grin turned into a look of shock at the sight of the clock. 8.50 AM!! My school bus would be down in ten minutes! I rushed out of my room clutching my toothbrush in hand into my parents’ bedroom to find them snoring peacefully. No wonder I’d slept in, then. I had a quick shower, shoved my books into my bag, tied my hair into a bun and ran out… …to find my school bus turning the corner and speeding away in a whirl of gravel and dust. I dejectedly began walking to school, sure that I was going to be late. As I made my sad way to school, the sky darkened and black clouds rushed in to hide the sun I had smiled at so happily earlier. Great, I thought. I’d always had this thing against rain. In the next five minutes, it was pouring and I was completely drenched. I stood under a tree and was lamenting my plight when I noticed a little boy and a woman across the road. It was hard to tell, but the woman appea...

“Don’t let go!” I yelled, as I struggled to pull up Carin, my hiking partner, over the rocky mountain ledge. “Don’t let go, Carin, please, hold on,” I muttered as he, clinging onto the flimsy rope I had thrown down, swung in the ferocious gale, coming dangerously close to dashing the rock surface of the mountain. I pulled with all my might, praying that every tug of the rope would bring Carin closer to safety. He was being absolutely quiet – praying, perhaps, like I was, to be able to hold on. Slowly, slowly, he came up, and immediately scrambled onto the ledge. The both of us retreated to our cave and collapsed on the stone floor out of sheer exhaustion – and relief. A few hours later, I woke up. It was pitch-dark around me, and beside me, I could hear the deep, slow breathing of my companion. My glow-in-the-dark watch told me that it was eleven p.m. That explained the utter darkness that clung to the walls of the cave like soft mats of dark wool. I tried to go back to sleep b...

It is the strong who live They who die are not weak But yet, I say, it is the strong who live. Those who live on, past tragedy Past pain, and loss, and hurt Past smiles and tears, hopes and fears It is them I salute. For they do not break down. Like the jasmine that only appears frail They continue to exude their fragrance Long after wilting in the heat of life. They who weep are not weak Just as they who laugh Need not be merry. Fleeting desires, crushed, do not weaken them Wild passions do not grip them They look upon life with a calm eye The eye of the hurricane, in the midst of storm. Strong willed, with a resolve to outlast All that life may plague them with A frame of iron, a heart of gold Mind of steel, and hands of velvet. And yet again I say, it is the strong who live They who lose everything And yet, along the way, Find themselves.

The young lass sat in solitude, Upon a rock, in the thick woods, Waiting, waiting for the lily o’ the night To make her appearance ‘midst the stars. Waiting, waiting for the full moon. And she came in all her glory, And the clouds parted as in awe. The maiden saw, and she laughed, And raised the flute to her lips. And as the first haunting note poured forth, They came. Their eyes gleaming out of the darkness Their paws making not a sound. Wolves. Rejoicing at the sight of the full moon. The melody flooded the clearing, As did the moonlight. Silver fur, sparkling jaws. And then, a howl. It rent the night. The melody, shattered, Into a thousand silver shards. And then, silence. As one, they leapt and bounded Into the sheer darkness. Bid their adieus to the lily of the night And slipped back into the shadows.               ...

You’ll Be Home Don’t worry, o frightened one, The night may be dark, the road may be long, But after all of that, You’ll be home. And I’ll be waiting, with a lantern in my hand, Waiting to welcome you home. After the long journey, through the dark night, You’ll be home. Don’t despair, o loved one Don’t be afraid of what lies ahead, Think, instead, of what awaits you at the end, because You’ll be home. Look for the light, little one, The light that will guide you home. Listen for my singing, o one who is afraid, And you’ll be home. Do not cry because the night is cold, Rejoice, instead, that you can be warm Do not weep because your feet hurt, Rejoice, instead, that you have something to get hurt for. And do not stop, o tired one, Your heart may be weary, your feet may be sore, But keep them moving, one after the other, for soon, You’ll be home. -Anugraha Venugopal

The Rain The earth is parched, The land sheds dry tears. The animals lament loudly, The flowers wither in silence. But wait! In the distance, The sound of thunder is heard. And this sound, is sweeter to their ears, Than the cooing of the birds in the spring. The sky is lit up by a bolt of lightning, The clouds come rushing and join the fray, The thunder roars, the lightning glares, And the first raindrop starts to fall. As it lands it is followed, immediately, By its brother from the skies, And one by one, drop by drop, The clouds give up their precious pearls. And suddenly, the heavens burst! And shower nectar from their midst. The earth is revived, The land sheds tears of joy. The animals laugh, The flowers smile. Sparkling diamonds from heaven, Sent to adorn the Earth, In the most precious necklace, Ever made. And so, the grand play With its majestic actors, Comes to an end. And they depart, With a farewell rainbow. As ...