Categories
Free Verse

Pretty Basic…

They say my choices are Basic…
Sitting in their fancy apartments watching memes.
And here I am with a mind overflowing with song lyrics,
and a wooden cottage still in my dreams.

My weekends are filled with feel-good classics…
You know the ones that leave our insides all warm?
Are you telling me that skinny jeans are outdated,
Now that I finally got into the form?

My afternoons are reserved for Sandwiches and Cold coffee…
But I also love Adrak wali chai in the rain.
I have too little space for real life drama in my heart,
But way too many fictional characters living in my brain!

As much as I cherish the colorful flowers,
I would fill up my closet with all white if I could
Tried finding myself in autobiographies of many strong women…
But can’t deny how the little mermaid still makes me feel incredibly understood.

While searching for obvious files and folders,
You will find more diaries and scrapbooks scattered in my room.
I try not to be available all the time now,
Well, sometimes I too get tired of the all-time smiley costume.

I sing when I’m alone and can write all day long…But
They say if I’m not getting anything out of it, it’s not very cool.
What to do?
We are living jn the era where making efforts to keep in touch
Has suddenly become quite old school.

So, they can say that this stuff that I like is Basic…
And I am not really doing that much.
But I call it the spell that helps me sail through.
I keep it at my fingertips…
Coz I know every now & then , they also need a little magic touch!

Categories
Free Verse

The Perfect Portrait

No one is born ugly, we’re just born in a judgemental society.

Kim Namjoon

She doesn’t know when she made it,
May be somewhere in her dreams…
The town gathered around uninvited,
To scrutinize her work, it seems.


They showered praise and kind words…
They all fell in love.
For it was The Perfect Portrait,
Just one sight was enough.


They said the shapes were adorable,
The colors were mesmerizing…
Just like the sky full of stars beams with pride,
The canvas holding it was shining.


Every morning she checked the painting,
To make sure the beauty is not lost.
The love of the towners & shine of the canvas,
Mattered for her the most.


Slowly the canvas became dull,
As the days passed by…
All her efforts to save the painting were in vain,
Nobody understood why.


Soon the criticism flooded her,
Shapes became distorted; colors started to fade…
She found herself crying,
Over something she involuntarily made.


The towners were frowning, they were disappointed,
Their praise & love became mockery & hate.
She blamed herself for all the downfall…
But couldn’t figure out what was her mistake.
She kept the picture hidden now,
As it was the reason for her heartache…
Now it stays in a lonely dark corner,
What once was called The Perfect Portrait.

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