Tag Archives: hate

Favourite Poems: February 2018

This year, I’ve decided to read a poem a day. It gets difficult to quantify, sometimes, mainly because a) I’m exploring what’s poetry supposed to mean, and b) I like reading poetry collections. In addition to poem/day, I’m also trying to read a poetry collection each month. (But at this point I’m sure I’m just showing off.)

But, since I am doing this for myself, and I am too lazy to think of things to blog about (unless you read my poetry blog where I post more often) I thought hey, why not combine the two, and compile a list of great poems I’ve read every month!

The idea for this series is for me to post at least four poems (one poem/week) that I especially enjoyed every month. This way I can keep a check on myself (with respect to reading) and have something to blog about.

February has been a weirdly action-packed month for me in a way that’s not happened in years. So, maybe that inspired my favourite poems of the month. (Or at least the ones I’ve mentioned here).

So here’s a list of my favourite poems for Februaury:

1) My wife’s the reason anything gets done, by Lin Manuel Miranda.

If you know me at all in real life, you would know how much I love Lin Manuel Miranda as a person, as well as a writer. Sometimes, I want to chill with him, so he rubs off on me a little bit, and other times I wish I could just be with him so I learn how he’s so amazingly talented and pure… you get the drift.
This poem is the one he read out at the Tony’s as a tribute to the victims of the Orlando shooting. Boy, are we blessed for being alive at the same time as him.

My wife’s the reason anything gets done.
She nudges me towards promise by degrees.
She is a perfect symphony of one.
Our son is her most beautiful reprise.
We chase the melodies that seem to find us
Until they’re finished songs and start to play.
When senseless acts of tragedy remind us
That nothing here is promised, not one day
This show is proof that history remembers.
We live through times when hate and fear seem stronger.
We rise and fall, and light from dying embers
Remembrances that hope and love last longer.
And love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love;
Cannot be killed or swept aside.
I sing Vanessa’s symphony; Eliza tells her story.
Now fill the world with music, love, and pride.

Here’s him performing it: link

2) Daddy, by Sylvia Plath

I’d never really paid attention to Sylvia Plath, or had never really read her up until now, and boy what a big, big mistake that was! I wish i had her craft or emotions while writing, because it oozes out of her words and gets to me like I’ve never really felt before.

Here’s an excerpt:

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do

And here’s the entire poem, which I thought was genius!*

3) Every Day You Play, by Pablo Neruda

I cannot get the notion that Neruda is a paedophile** away even as I read this, but if I push it away, this poem is so beautiful. Of course, I even wrote a post inspired by it. It’s just too beautiful, I think.

You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.

Here’s the link to the entire poem.

 

4) Dreams, by Langston Hughes

Langston Hughes is one of my favourite poets, mainly because he taught me that poetry could send out a social message. I’m not saying he’s the first poet to do that, but his is the first poetry I read that made me realize that it is possible.

This is the entire poem:
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

 

*I read Ariel as my poetry collection for the month, and I loved most of the poems in it. So, also check out: Tulips, Lady Lazarus, and Cut. I mean how can someone write so wonderfully!!! Beyond me. Besides, the foreword by her daughter almost made me cry. (Maybe I should have written some stuff down for a book reaction post?)

**I generally cannot separate the art from the artist, so posting this is quite weird. But then again, I really like the idea of I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees now that I kind of understand it.

Advertisements

Unfinished Thoughts: Part 1.

Soulmates at opposite ends of a barbed wire
Ancestors’ decision to war gave them bullet holes while looking for love

…………………………………………………………………

Rust and stardust at the beginings and the ends
And everything in between a void of empty expectations and hopeless misery.

…………………………………………………………………

A heart shaped face everyone appreciated
But her eyes were vacant.

…………………………………………………………………

Stardust, hope miracle, wonder
His eyes tell a million beautiful stories
But his poker face was the only defence against the rest of the universe

…………………………………………………………………

Fire ablaze in the neighborhood street
Scarlet limbs, hot tempers, loud chants
Did not stop him from laughing at his failed attempts to flirt.
Innocence had not yet been torn appart.

…………………………………………………………………

As the midnight oil burnt through her window
Her love lay colder than her metal heart.

…………………………………………………………………

Best Friends, Love, Marriage, Children, House
His dreams were numerous
Her heart couldn’t take it anymore
But it was he who was left bleeding.
…………………………………………………………………

The letters danced in front of his eyes
Big words, complicated phrases,
And God forbid them pragmatics
Dancing is not the first step towards falling in love everytime.

………………………………………………………………..

Dependant on father, brother, husband, son
She moves through life overprotected
The diagnosis said Dependant Personality Disorder
In India she was just another woman.
…………………………………………………………………

A solitary man in a movie theatre
Now he can laugh with a snort
And hysterically sob, as loudly as he can.

…………………………………………………………………

Have exams starting tomorrow. What best way to procrastinate?


Bruises

He walks away from her tearing apart the promises. The lobster from yesterday in the pits of her stomach churns,  making her breathe deeply, till it calms down. The hot summer wind leaves her sweaty, the force of the crack in her heart unnoticed.

A grin. A hug. A word at the right time. That’s all it took for her to give herself to him sincerely. Without a doubt, without a question. Just like in the movies. Wasn’t that supposed to be love anyway? No questions asked? Every moment as if from a dream. Every touch, every eye lock, every nervous laughter. A slow dwindling road of trust and care. The walking stick during arthritis. A paracitamol during nights of cold, sweaty fever. The side-wheel to her unbalanced bike-rider. Her everything.

It was sudden. Fights. Insults. Crying. A night of passion. Bags under their eyes their friends chuckled (un)knowingly to. It was something they should have forgotten a bouquet of flowers and a movie later. But their monsters were stonewalls, denial, and more insults. Till something in him snapped.

He came close to her. Enough to make her smell the mint in his breath, and feel the shivers in his body. Enough to feel this was it-the moment they found their answers. She tried to turn away, but found herself immobile. He looked at her with eyes almost shut, and jaw tight. At that moment she saw what was attractive about him, and that scared her.

A blow of wind hit her before his hand did. Her heart broke before her wisdom tooth did. Her spirit tore before her eyes flowed.

As he walked away from her, a month later, in that hot summer night, she felt nothing. The black-blue bruises -a souvenir of her bad decisions- would sting for months to come.