A half broken tiara belonging to a 16year old.
An intermix of that 16 year old's collection in a rack full of books with dust settled on them, some with yellowed out pages, some with the bind still waiting to be cracked open.
The sound of my mother humming out in the open balcony as she ponders over everything under the Sun, from my sister's impending "rishtas" to my "what is life" phase to even world politics! So, she hums away, one minute she's off tune and the next she's Lata Mangeshkar in the household.
Lata Didi's best sitting with Aasha Tai, Euphoria, Abba, Frank Sinatra and even Metallica, brought together only in the most unlikely of music collections.
A collection of photo albums with pictures ranging from my phase with the fringes to back when I dragged my teddy bear along everywhere I went.
A teddy bear with a small chunk of its arm chewed out by my dog.
My dog's old collar sitting on the central shelf with show pieces, certainly being our most loved one. His hair settled on each suede coat in the house even after years of him leaving us.
The ruckus of my dad, the TV and Arnab Goswami in a heated argument promptly at 9p.m., even as dad's dressed in his coat and all set to step out.
The television set that works only after receiving a pat on its head.
The commencement of commotion as my sister and I bump heads over the slightest of things, over arguments of which no one can keep count until we're busy talking about something ridiculous and the argument's all but forgotten about.
Forgotten hardly ever are any of the above listed things. Each resulting in inside jokes and personal lingo that only us 4 will understand; each tugging at a memory I know more from heart than from mind. Things I'd like to keep stored in an old cassette to push pause, play, rewind.
If I were to make that casette I'd probably title it "home". These memories, these everyday happenings and even the box of worn out materialistic things, each representing a bit of what I call home. Something to turn to for help, for support or even simply for familiar comfort.
Comforted at the thought of being home. Oh it feels good to be home.
I wish I could tell you what I am looking for,
I am looking for peace, I am looking for love.
I am looking for a small home and a big glass of wine.
I am looking for life that isn't contained
I am looking for living for more than just the day.
I am looking for human beings who are merry and joyful,
I am looking for pretty smiles and heavenly touch.
I am looking for funky kisses in the middle of the night,
I am looking for a soul with a mind of gold,
I am looking for rare love which makes monotony exciting.
Most importantly I am looking for money.
But only enough to buy me bread, milk, whiskey and honey.
I am looking for money enough to travel,
Not to the European high lands but the ruins with a view.
I am looking for someone to fly very high.
Or maybe I have no clue what I am looking for,
Even if the world tells me I better know by now.
#randomthoughts #freakyfriday #foodforthought #poetryforthesoul #whatarewereallylookingfor #thoughts #writing #irant #myeveningmusings #lastfewdays #chennaidiaries
WILD GEESE BY MARY OLIVER
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
#poetryforthesoul #empoweringwomen #arttherapy #endhumantrafficking
I used to write alot of poetry in my early to mid twenties when i was struggling massively with self hate, depression and a constant death wish for myself. Poetry helped me offload onto a blank page what i could not verbalise to another person, it eased transiently the pain of imprisonment in my own body.
I have never shown these poems to anyone.
I don't know if my poems are any good but they hold meaning for me in the search, the struggle and the battle.
Poetry Day Ireland is next Thursday 26th April and I would love to hear YOUR POETRY. Please send it to me privately and I can share it on my Perspective page only with your permission.
Your sacred words of struggle might be of help to someone else. The theme this year is poetry surprises, you might be surprised how people will be moved by your words. It might be an old poem or a new one....send them to me!
I will also upload one of my own!
#poetryday2018 #poetrydayirl #poetrysuprises #poetryforthesoul #poetryforwellness #poetrytoeasepain #poetryandmentalhealth