Bus Ride

The rhythmic movement calms her

If only for the time being.

If only in a bus ride,

At least there is some movement in her life.

 

She can see why people are attracted

To dangerous, adventure sports.

There is such beauty

In choosing acceleration.

 

Such power one must feel

Falling headfirst, bungee-jumping.

Not being dragged down, but shooting like an arrow

And assurance of bouncing back up.

 

Such peace one must feel

While running a marathon

Follies and stabs of regret

Not catching up for some time.

 

The fears start bubbling up

As she sees  her bus-stop in the distance.

For when the bus halts,

So does the variation in her life.

What It Takes

Photo by Shane Colella

 

Forever

It took me to forget

The knives that I threw;

Those double-edged words

Which hurt me and you.

And yet, here I am

After all this time,

Telling myself the same story

One more time.

 

“You remain as you were,

Making no changes.

You innocent fool!

Thinking you can rectify

The mistakes of your past.

Thinking that it’s the thought

That counts.

Thinking that your words,

New sentences

Will balm the wounds

You inflicted.

 

But words are not idempotent.

What you said once

May fade over time.

And what you said once

May negate all the rest.

And what you said once

May take hold of the heart…

Forever.”

The New Life

Engineering student. Engineer.

So, the last semester is over. College is officially done. I don’t know how I feel about that really. I suppose I would have felt more of a change had I gone to a different city. But since that hasn’t happened, I guess it’s not really sinking in that my student life is over.

I finished my last semester doing an off-campus internship, and am currently on a break. The past few months have not been easy. Adjusting to not being a student is a difficult process. Top it off with other personal disappointments, and you have the perfect recipe for becoming “mopey”.

However, I have been trying my very best to not let that happen. In order to overcome my funk, and the consequent writer’s block, I have been taking an online poetry course. It’s called “How Writers Write Poetry 2015“, and is conducted by Iowa university. It was suggested to me by one of my favorite professors, who knows that I enjoy writing. 🙂

It’s definitely a great experience since I’ve never taken a formal course in creative writing before. I have learnt about some really interesting forms, and I hope to add them to my writing practices. I will be bombarding this blog with a lot of poetry in the coming few weeks.

On the whole, I’ve noticed that this blog has seen less of personal blog posts and more of poetry. I know the reason. It’s easier to hide behind poetry and other creative writing than write what’s really on the mind. And there has been a lot on my mind lately. When I started blogging, one of my goals was to make this blog reflect a part of me. And cutting out the personal stories would be detrimental to that. So, I will be making a deliberate attempt to communicate more on this blog.

I know that I haven’t been exactly regular with the posting, and I’m glad that the readers have stuck with me in spite of that. This is my effort to start engaging more, and begin anew.

Photo by Tim Mossholder

Spunk

Photo by Chris Sardegna

She had so much spunk,

That she made oceans out of

The beads of perspiration

That formed at her head

When she looked ahead

At the series of lifeless days

That were coming.

As she acknowledged

The reality of what was to come,

She promised herself

That acknowledgement

Was not acceptance,

And that she refused

To passively wait

For days and months and years

For courage to arrive

And turn her life around.

She refused to simply look

Out of the windows

Of her cage-like dwelling

At the long road that led there.

She stopped waiting

To hear the doorbell

That would spring her into activity

And instead

Got to work herself.

Bracing herself for the tough task,

She started shaking the chains

That tied her to the weight

Of imagined obligations

That no one expected anyway.

The chains were hard to break

But at least they rattled

And betrayed the signs

Of inherent weakness.

For her, for now,

That was enough.

Seeking Solace In Your Past Self

Often, in moments of fear or anxiety, I go back and read my old blog posts; the ones about bravery and growth and optimism.  I smile a little, nod a little, but a lot of times, I just wonder. Many times, I start reading and get lost in the words and suddenly, I realize that I’ve been reading the words as if they are by some stranger, when in reality, they are mine. Was it really me, who wrote these uplifting words? How did I know then?

I used to think that knowledge and experience are things that only grow with time. What I learnt once would be remembered always. Maybe that is not always true. Maybe “knowing” is an ever-changing entity and you may gain something several times and lose it as many times too.

trust yourself......

Image via Pinterest

Maybe growth does not always mean adding to your reserve of strengths. Maybe it just means that it evolves continuously, and the what was once a strength may as well be a weakness now.

I have a love-hate relationship with crossroads and decisions. I like to believe that perhaps everyone does. I like the anticipation of beginning something new. I love that the thought that what may be coming may be wonderful and colorful. But at the same time, there is of course, this fear of choosing the wrong road, and ending up lost. What if that path was better? What if that school was better than this? What if that branch was better than this? Am I in the right place? Am I going in the right direction? Am I making the decisions which will lead me to that life? The one that I have planned?

In retrospect, my past self has always chosen the paths that ultimately turned out to be for the best. Sure, I may have certain small regrets, but by and large, I suppose I am right where I should be. And yet, whenever the time comes for something new, I’m terrified. How did my past self make all these big decisions? How in the world did I know? How did I stand so bravely in the face of all those changes, all those challenges? I feel awed by that self.

Maybe some day, I will read this again. And maybe I’ll have a clearer idea of what it all meant. Maybe someday, my present self will be a solace to the one in the future.

Anchored

By Kholodnitskiy Maksim

Photo by Kholodnitskiy Maksim

Unsure of myself,

I stepped on the dock.

A flurry of activities was going on.

Great cries could be heard;

People calling out to each other.

Young boys in their light cotton shirts,

Hauling their trunks to the ship.

Young girls, standing bravely;

Dreams and ambitions in their poise.

All saying farewell to their mothers,

Their fathers, brothers, sisters, friends.

But most of all, saying goodbye

To the lives that they had known.

 

And then, there was me,

Confused, terrified, incongruous.

I had my trunk and my ticket too.

I was there ahead of time.

And yet, I stood rooted on the spot,

Fighting with myself.

For I could see the promises

Of the land at the end of the sea.

And I could see the beauty

Of the land behind me.

The ship now blew its final horn,

And yet my feet were anchored still;

I could not decide.

 

Time stands still while I write this.

And at the end of this moment,

Perhaps I shall know.

Winds Of Change

Photo by Tirza van Dijk

An autumn leaf fell by my side;

It was time for a change.

 

The first leaf that fell

Shook me out of my reverie.

I had been planning for summer.

The wind washed away my plans

As that first leaf fell in the water.

I looked on, unable to move.

 

I watched powerless

As the leaves withered by.

I tried to hold on to summer,

I tried to hold on to blooms.

But the leaves withered away,

And left me in a sea of yellow.

 

Somewhere below the yellow

My plans lay scattered.

How could I have not seen this coming?

How did I miss the change in air?

How did I not see the scurry

Of all those around me?

 

Was I the only one unprepared?

Was I the only one on whom

The autumn crept upon stealthily?

The change paralyzed me for a moment.

A fear settled in my heart;

Maybe winter would come too.

 

But taking a deep breath I vowed

That the first fall of snow

Will not be an abrupt shock.

This time, I shall be awake.

This time, I shall be welcoming.

For plans are meant to change.

 

The first flake of snow

Shall not be my autumn leaf.