Life

It all started with a cry
So loud, monuments shook and trembled.
Progress was made slowly
Towards the ladder of success.
Men came and men went,
The ladder was the only seen path,
Highlighted beyond its worth of glory,
Magnified in its importance.

Then one fine late winter's morning,
Began the steep climb,
Like everyone else,
but with an ambitious knack.

Many a times the step,
Seemed farther than possible to reach.
Sometimes so rusted, almost infectious...
But the ladder never stopped,
Nor did the formidable climb.
With every challenge,
Came renewed vigour and zeal,
To conquer the unbeatable,
To stabilize the spontaneous,
To curb the uncontrollable.

Time never stopped,
Nor will it ever for anyone.
What is gone is gone.
Sensibility demands it to be treated,
As a lesson learnt,
An experience gained.
Chances are a part of life,
Partly the reason for our very existence.
Words may never be literal,
But two-faced,
As so many of us behave,
At so many instances in our lives.

Promises were never meant to be broken,
Nor were hearts that beat so faithfully.
There is so much more to learn,
So much knowledge to gain,
So many experiences to share.

Why let frustration,
Spoil the already spoilt?
One reason for pessimism,
Maybe the want to seek vengeance,
For all the wrongs done in the past,
That no one deserved to suffer from.

Why do others then,
Deserve the same fate,
That uncaring wants brought you?
Why is the sense of responsibility,
Burnt to ashes by the desire
To "teach" a lesson,
To someone who wasn't even involved,
With the mishap your life went through?

Goodness will always be taken for granted,
And good people will always perish,
Such is the order of things.
But, if orders were not to be followed,
Why special exception to this?
Experience was never meant
To lower your espectations of yourself.
It was merely meant to guide you,
And make you a master of all trades.

When a lesson is learnt,
A value is added to
The ones already with you.
Wisdom demands a zealous approach
To what unexected lies ahead,
Smartness offers a helping hand
To imbibe all worthy thoughts
That may escape a negative outlook,
Bringing calm to the mind,
Cheer to the soul,
And fulfilling a life,
That seemed so unnecessary...

-Me

____________________________________________________________________

To,

A Shadow, lost in the mist of misunderstanding,

Here's a way out...are you willing to take it???

From,

A vampire, who meant something once upon a time.

____________________________________________________________________

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

-Edgar Alan Poe

Tired of Holding on to Nothing

They started off as
Two inseparable soulmates.
When one whispered in his heart,
The other listened and felt.
When one hurt himself,
The other bore the pain.
When one was lost,
The other was there to find him.

And then...
Between them, came,
A wall of understanding.
As peculiar as it may seem,
Understanding tore them apart.
This huge wall, the other climbed,
To seek and find him,
And return with him.
This huge wall,
Grew smoother and slipperier,
Making it hard for her,
To reach the top.
Many a times she fell,
Many a times she bruised herself,
Many a times, even when things seemed hopeless,
She never gave up.
While climbing this
Slippery, steep Everest,
She saw him.
She saw him busy,
She saw him not care,
She saw him laugh away...
Did he mirth at her foolishness?
Or was he just too happy to care?
She couldn't understand this,
Did he not care anymore?
Was he too stuck to his comfortable side,
Of this huge, formidable wall,
To look out for her?
She called out to him,
She called out for him,
He heard, never listened,
To her share of miseries.
Yet she called again,
He looked but didn't see,
The hardships she faced.
She tried once more,
He turned but didn't notice,
How she gave herself away.

Then arose out of the wall,
Thorns, of all broken promises,
Forgotten verses, abused dreams.
Piercing her straight through her heart,
Leaving it bleeding profusely.

She let go of the footholds,
To fall on the hard ground,
Never to climb the wall again,
Never to fall in love again.
She got up,
Brushed the dust off as before,
But didn't look back the wall anymore.
Instead, she began carving her own path,
On her side of the wall,
To lead her life the way she wanted to,
Where people would conquer mountains for her,
Where others would,
Give up being understood,
To understand her.
Where love had only one definition:
Her happiness.

-Me

Only...

Only one dream,
Only one hope,
Only one desire,
To achieve...
What? The mind knows not.
A cluster of images,
Forming day by day,
Giving substance
To an endless wait.
Filling gaps and holes,
Covering up voids,
Only to someday,
Reveal them.

Only one regret,
Of only one loss,
For only one time,
And then, despair to be fought.
In a pool of tears,
Spreading around,
Flowing boundless,
With unnatural energy.
The effect too harsh,
And unfathomable consequences,
Only to, someday,
Be wiped forever.

Only one thought,
Only one path,
Only one life,
To live...
How? The heart knows not.
The very essence,
Of movement,
However slight,
Yet alive.
Struggling to move,
With emotions restraining,
Only to, someday,
Cease living.

-Me

The Realm of Misunderstandings

Give away,
For in giving,
You receive.
Smile away,
For in smiling,
You glow.
Hope away,
For in hoping,
You believe.

Beat away,
Oh! Sweet heart,
Beat away,
For in beating,
You live...
You live, you energize,
You re-kindle an extinguished spirit,
You urge a forgotten thought.
You calm a pressurized mind,
You soothe a tormented soul.

Whisper away,
Oh! Lush lips,
Whisper away,
For in whispering,
You instill faith, long lost,
You clear the mist of misunderstandings,
You rejoice in expression,
You vent subdued feelings.

Sway away,
Oh! Silky hair,
Sway away,
For in swaying,
You unleash a disguised power,
You let loose the trapped energy,
You reveal a hidden magical essence,
You unravel the realm of misunderstandings.

Go away!
Memories of the good times say,
Go away!
Oh! Mist of misunderstandings,
Let my heart live,
Let my lips whisper,
Let my hair sway.
Let me prosper,
Let me flourish...
In my giving, yet not receiving,
In my smiling, yet not glowing,
In my hoping, yet not believing...

In my waiting, yet not obtaining.

-Me

An Ode to the WOMAN

Finally a woman bends...

Dark times envelope
A little household
With one man, his wife
And their little children.
Harsh words are exchanged
As the children grow up.
The adults find it unbearable
To stand the other's company.
A growl, a stomp
An enraged bang on the
Ancient expensive wooden desk.
Fury at its ultimate;
Anger at its peak.
A brewing storm breaks free now...
Threats, warnings, blackmail.
Backstabbing.
And the children growing up
Amidst the anguish
Amidst the pain
Amidst the anger
Amidst the fury.
There is a house to run,
The children need to grow,
Their health, is all that matters.
Education is necessary, so what?
At least they can read and write!
Utter chaos commotion in the house.
There is perhaps a better life ahead.
Yet, the woman bends.
She gets up and clears the mess created,
Picks up the broken, fallen pieces
Scattered all over the ground.
Makes sure that no glass piece,
Lies about so that
The children hurt themselves,
And yet she misses one...
Sadly, she misses one.
It pinches, it pains;
It reveals itself
Most hideously in the form
Of a deep cut,
Deep enough to reach the soul and scar it,
Give nightmares to the little children,
Mould them into the heartless beings
She always wanted to save them from.

"Whose fault is it, though?" asks someone.
"Of course, the woman's!" replies another.
"Why so?"
"She missed the piece of glass!
She did not perform her duties well!"
The other adult...
The dominant one,
Rejoiced by the orthodox,
Rather, the insignificant fools.
And, as always, the woman bends.
Gives in to the stick-straight pride of men,
That if bent, will break,
Lacking flexibility
Because every bit of it
Lies in the women who bend.

We continue to survive
We continue to stirve
All because, sometime,
Somewhere in the past,
When we were children,
Growing up...
A woman had finally bent,
To become out back bone,
Supporting us through
Think and thin of life,
With us through our
Darkest hours of need,
Not caring if she rested or not,
Just to ensure we were sound.
There is no amount of gratitude,
That may repay what she does for us...
A higher person, might just aim,
At being a better person
Than his present personality.
A lower person, might just write
A poem and forget about it later.
While the others, just watch and read
And pretend to admire and enjoy
The greatness equivalents in person and verses
While passiveness fills
Their hearts to the brim.

As the world continues to revolve,
As the sun continues to shine,
As the wind continues to blow,
As the sea continues its rise and fall,
A woman continues to bend,
For there are morales she needs to mend.
And thus, the woman finally bends.

-Me