poetry

Come Back to Me (3)

Limerence

You resurrected all the butterflies
Flapping their wings through my eyes
I am getting tickled by their rapid fluttering
Sending chills down my spine, I am quivering

With each knot opening, I am losing control
Leaving my body dancing is my soul
Still, I am resisting, I am trying to avoid you
Not just my dreams, you are messing the reality too

Mature, composed, why won’t you be adored?
Your charming look can’t be ignored
One more heartbreak I can’t afford
Yet I want you to raise my score

The wall is developing a very fine crack
Difficult for my emotions to hold back
Once in a while, I can’t help but smile
You smell like lavender it’s turning me wild

I have started opening
Every inch of me convulsing
Dreams unite us, our love turns true
And here I am miles apart from you

You remind me of many people
Or many people remind me of you
Doesn’t matter, familiar are you

You are appealing, I am entrapped.
To reach your heart there is no map
My heart never had any sense
We are on opposite sides of the fence

poetry

Come Back to Me (2)

Covetous

Sitting next to you, my fingers playing with yours
Every time you let go, mine feel empty and turn sore
They start wriggling so they start to chase yours
Entangled in yours is like a barefoot stroll along a shore

When they are near you, when they can catch you
When they can kiss you, when they can enjoy you
When they can talk to you, when they can drown in you
They are then grateful because my eyes only want you

Wrapped in your arms – this desire is growing
My heart can’t contain this passion overflowing
My arms are longing for that embrace
My heart listens to yours with no gaping space

I have a deadly disease, you are the only cure
Every path leads to you, no matter what is the door
A wild beast burning inside my chest
Come and undress to caress it with your zest

Nanopoblano 2020 – 10/10

poetry

Come Back to Me (1)

Tripped

My eyes – aloof, stern, and solemn
My heart addicted to love is a problem
My lips yearn but won’t get parted
My fingers entwined in air half-hearted

My teeth biting my lips intensely
My gaze following you intently
My breath is on hold as I behold
Take my cold body in your arms and enfold

My heart dancing on some random beats
“I want you and only you” it repeats
Although this limerent heart is mine
All my orders – it continues to decline

It keeps on dragging me into trouble
It has a pin to burst every bubble
Again it blossomed into a young man
As always it was not part of the plan

Nanopoblano 2020 – 9/10

Come Back to Me (2) – Covetous

Come Back to Me (3) – Limerence

Come Back to Me (4) – Stupid Heart

Come Back to Me (5) – Ghost

Personal Narrative

In my kitchen I cook gibberish

It is strictly advised to take the following words with more than a grain of salt.

My kitchen, my chicken because it is my frrriction. It might sicken you.

Since I do not talk about logic and have a high deficiency of Vitamin Sensibility, proceed ahead at your own risk. The sensory stimulations might cause you to puke. All intelligibility is just a fluke. (These l’s in itneglibilty made my head spin. Tough word.) Before moving ahead, may I ask you to get a bowl of salt? Any salt will work. Once you have it with you, please turn it upside down on your head.

Done? Great. The rest of the journey will be smoother now (for me, of course).

The insides of my head taste colorful. Each neuron has its unique aroma. Some of them are very bitter. I will give you an estimate of their bitterness. Take a bottle with a tight cap and fill it with red wine. Add cocoa and coffee without being stingy. Next, add bitter melon juice and green tea. And if you have time, that you definitely have, grind citrus peel and add to it. Shake it well.

Shake Shake Shake

Now, be brave and take a sip. Let it touch all the inner linings of your mouth. Let its taste penetrate all the taste buds on your tongue. Feel it as it climbs upward towards your nose and head. Don’t open the latch of your mouth. No, don’t let it get out. Swallow it.

Ugh. Yuck. Yuck. 

Some of my neurons are even more bitter than that. With time they turn rustier and B.I.T.T.E.R. You can say that I am cursed with all the bitterness left on the roadsides. However, some of my neurons are so sweet that one lick will cause cavities in all your teeth. And a few might fall as well. I bet you will not try to smell their sweetness. Will you? No worries. I understand. I don’t like their taste either. Why will I? They make my brain foggy and bloated with anxiety. My mind has grown plump, moody, and irritable. My persistent struggle to lose the angry but nervous, outrageous but shy weight is a jagged jaggery fiasco. I don’t want to work out to burn my motivational calories to get a better day. Sweetness is taking its toll on me.

Anyway, I have also got a friendly stock of sour neuronal connections. If you touch them with the tip of your tongue, they will make you squeeze your eyes shut and your mouth wide open. Your teeth will tingle, and all nerves buried beneath them will perform Zumba. Although I didn’t want to flaunt, I have got a perfect set of thirty-two teeth that can taste anything with utmost perfection. My tongue is too lazy to do anything. It occasionally goes for a sprint but doesn’t have enough stamina to finish any race. So, my teeth have to compensate for its silence. They have to smell as well because I can’t ask for any favor from my nose. It is extra sensitive. I have to take special care of it – keeping it dry. The frequent rain and thunder make it marshy. And it is getting worse than Lord Voldemort’s nose. (I know it’s old.) It is becoming No Nose. I have blown it so much that one day it flew away. It is now just two holes and all clogged up. Stuffy nose and a little bit of tissue.

Ahem, don’t make faces.

By now, you must have formed some opinion about my eyes. Due to the stark asymmetry of my head, my left eye is always more sleepy than the right one. No, it has nothing to do with me sleeping with my left eye open. Anyway, my eyes look pretty in their bloodshot gowns. I drink heavily. I prefer to say that I have the luxury to drink extravagantly. No wonder why I always sound so high! My asymmetry is glamorized even more by Strabismus that has caused my eyes to run in opposite directions. One is always looking at the outer world, and the other continuously surveilling dark corners of my mind. A big thanks to the frequent flood sponsored by the tidal waves of the salty ocean. They veil their cross nature.

And my ears, want to make any wild guess? 

Well, they are normal like yours. They love to sing “Happy Together” in a chorus.

Could you please stop staring at my head now? Because my throat is even more fascinating. The inner lump has grown so much that you can almost … 

Nanopoblano 2020 – 8/10

poetry

He is eighty, She is seventy

married for eternity, yet
haven’t danced together or
sang songs for each other
never used the phrase “I love you”
but both knew it was hanging
if not floating, in the air.

Their beds that were once
one large bed, have a large
silent musical gap in between
on which the frayed
blanket, torn in two, dances.

On his bed, he farts
cause he doesn’t hear,
she gorges even after burps
cause he doesn’t hear
He hates his hearing aid,
now she can’t hear whispers
cause she always yells.
Still, he mutters-
why does she whisper?

She answers his phone calls
cause he doesn’t hear
the loud ringtones
or the hello from the other end.
He complains- “My children have
forgotten me, their children have
forgotten me.” She yells that they
all love him. She won’t say
she loves him, cause he doesn’t hear.

No television, no internet
but both are busy.
Lost in his newspaper
that he never lets her touch,
a treasure he enshrines
on his bedside dating
from some random years.
She stealthily takes a few away
so that the pile won’t fall on him.

High blood sugar, swollen knees
thinning hair, bags under eyes
both sick in their beds.
He makes her tea. His eyes on her face,
getting restless when she isn’t around.
He is scared that tomorrow
when she’ll whisper his name,
the way she does every day,
he won’t be there.

Nanopoblano 2020 – 6/10

Fiction

Unfair Integers

After plucking a few hairs of mine, I looked helplessly at my ten-year-old son.

“Erhan! Dear, you should rethink what five minus seven is.”

Still struggling with plus and minus signs, he pressed the pencil tip hard on his notebook to snap it. Looking at the broken ring, he finally declared, “It is a stupid question. No exam will ever ask it. It should not be even part of the syllabus.”

My husband taught our son to subtract five from seven and add five to seven using kidney beans. They both would pretend to be businessmen, lending and borrowing their beans. In the sky, tonight, he must be giggling – watching us struggle to achieve a minus sign. I wish he could have stayed back to teach him how to subtract seven from five as well.

“Mom! How can I ask for more when he has nothing to give?”

Nanopoblano 2020 – 5/10

Personal Narrative

Does ‘i’ look like 1

Continuing The Night before the First Job

First Day at First Job

On her bed with closed eyes, Susan changed her side while wondering why has her alarm not screamed yet. She could have got up, but she chose not to deviate from her plan that she carefully designed in her dream. After all, it is a big day. She reminded herself not to let her excitement bite her, although it continued barking inside her head. She was determined to put on her best Corporate Attitude that she ironed the whole night, no matter what.

The alarm rang, barking went on, and nervousness shot. Amidst all this chaos, she managed to get ready by ten. Her muscles beneath her nice shirt snapped her anxiety, and her anxiety jumped in its fancy slippers. She tightened her entangled knot of hairy wisdom behind her brain. But why has she not received any mail or call till now? Dread clouded her as she feared that she is forgotten. Restless and baffled, she reached out for her mobile to call her manager but stopped. She didn’t want to appear as an impatient kid. 

“I will wait for another half an hour, and then without any second thought, I’m going to call him.”

Two more half hours wore on, and she finally gave in. A quick call with her manager made things get started, and by lunchtime, her laptop was buzzing. A little more than 800 emails waved at her. Somewhere in them was buried the set of instructions for the first day.

“Come on, Susan. Sorting out emails is your fiefdom. It won’t take a lot of time.”

With her full focus on subject lines, she was startled by the beep sound that came from an instant messaging app. A message from her manager. It said welcome, but why did it end on a question mark? She read the last line out loud and slowly- “What do you do in your free time?” 

“What kind of question is this? Is he trying to make things less formal? Or maybe things are not exactly as shown in movies. Anyway, it is a normal question. Don’t be nervous, Susan. Think something. What will a sensible, mature, and smart person reply?”

“Free time is free.” Send.

“Wait, why does it not look okay on my screen? It sounded perfect in my head.”

Before Susan could have finished her reasoning, there came another message- “Do you play any games?”

“What shall I reply now? Let alone play, I don’t even know the complete set of rules for any particular game. Does the office organize sports events? Does he need a good player for his team? I can answer anything, and as long as we have work from home (WFH), I don’t need to bother. I have got time, and I will learn it for sure. But what if he is asking about online games like PUBG or Among Us? I should better ask.”

Since he was okay with any game, Susan mentioned both in her semi-authentic message.

“I know a little bit of Volleyball. And I can play Ludo very well.” Send.

Again, it didn’t look that good on her screen as it seemed in her head, especially this Ludo part. The next question that followed proved that Susan had been screwing so far. Her manager was expecting something else. “Let me put it in this way, what is your hobby?”

“I love to write. I mean, I try writing poems and stories.” Send.

Her mind in a tug of war with her fingers finally succumbed to them.

“I have got a blog. Shall I share it?” Send.

Being a gentleman, he didn’t refuse. With few more messages and no more questions, the chat ended. She took a long break, the beauty of WFH. 

Time is a badass player in every game. In the evening, she resumed her sorting task. An email resting in her inbox with her name in the subject smiled at her. With lightning speed, she clicked it open. It was a welcome email. She quickly scanned the email body, there was no mention of Ludo and her blog. There was only one line describing her interest. Sigh.

“Oh, that is why he was asking these questions. Thank God. He is indeed sweet and mature. I am highly grateful to him.”

Then her eyes fell on another welcome email with some other name in the subject. Curious to read, she opened it. Oh my, this new hire said that he enjoys competitive coding. Then things added up.

“What would my manager be thinking? Ludo versus Coding. Don’t say it is okay because it is not. Why on earth did I share my blog? I can’t delete it from his account, but I can change the address. But is it okay to do so?”

Does ‘i’ look like ‘1’? With a smirk on her face, Susan changed the ‘i’ in shooting to ‘1’. Shoot1ng now looks like shooting, a rocket ready to launch. And she can always say that she made a typo error.

Moral of the story- Susan is a complete basket case.

Nanopoblano 2020 – 4/10

Fiction

Last Night

I was walking with him in the moonlight. It was cold and white. Snow heavily sprayed on roads, rooftops, and leaves. He was thickly wrapped in black. The chilly winds reflected from his dark cape. On the other hand, I was shivering. I didn’t have those woolen onion layers on. He also didn’t offer his coat. I was rubbing my hands together to get a little warmth when I heard a dog growling on the opposite side of the road. Little scared, I wanted to hold his hand but by then he was two steps ahead of me. I increased my pace to cover the distance. We continued our walk again in silence. When we finally reached where I requested him to take me for the last time, he turned to look at me and gave a smile. But by that time, everything was frozen and I was cold and stoned. I said bye to my body in the mortuary cabinet and grasped his stretched hand.

Nanopoblano 2020 – 3/10

poetry

Borborygmus

Give me a smile, show your teeth.
Widen your smile, get ready to read.
Give it a like, say hello beneath.

No, the poem hasn’t started yet, I just wanted to say belated happy birthday November. I missed it in my previous post. Now sing with me:

I have a morning meeting
I missed my morning eating
My brain is now cheating
My angry belly heating

Sipping water, dreaming cheese
Borborygmus! Don’t you sneeze
Scared of rumble, I hug my knees
O meeting, get over, please

I dream another meeting
My crush and I dating
In the lift, he waiting
Lizard on iron gating

To my fear even light goes out
We move closer then I shout
Adding a kiss I always doubt
From my dream, I swiftly came out

At last, meeting completed
My food waiting to be greeted
Borborygmus defeated
Getting up, I feel conceited

I ran to the door
My crush standing before
Borborygmus snores
Grr … grrr. Grrrrrrrr

He looks at me, I look at him
His smile playing my strings
My belly goes on to sing
Borborygmus the real king

Nanopoblano 2020 – 2/10