THEY SAY

They say, “Be betrayed once, get your heart broken,
For once, let your screams, make you awoken,
Then you will know why we smoke the night away,
Then, ask us why we drink all through the day.”

They say, “Just once, be left all alone,
Oh once, find yourself in the depressed zone,
Stand abandoned in an over-crowded street,
a place where you feel no cold, and no heat.”

And so, quietly, I wait for that day to come,
the day when all of my senses go numb,
the day when tears just mix with the rain,
I’m filled with heartbreak, hurt and pain

The day comes, soon enough, when I feel it too,
Unsurprisingly, the same things I want to do,
But I will get past it, convincingly I smile,
Sure, I realise, it will take me a long while.

Wounds only heal when kept uncovered,
Scars appear, only once you have suffered,
And pain, oh pain, demands to be felt,
You can’t run away from the cards you are dealt

One day, the moon goes down, I see the sun rise,
Its sharp, blinding rays, burn all the binding ties,
I find myself walking back up to "they",
With new-found confidence, to show them the way.

AN ODE TO MER-DER

A night of drinking, an awkward morning-after,

You were nothing, but a pretty-boy fling,

I was attracted to your carefree laughter,

But not looking for an attached string

Then, I came across you at my new job,

Looking like the dreamy lead of a boy band,

You stopped me, and locked the door knob,

I wondered, “Where in the World did I land?”

But a few uneventful weeks down the line,

My road of life took an unexpected turn,

“Pick Me”, I found myself begging you to be mine,

And broken-hearted, I saw the damn bridge burn.

Then as a few more months went passing by,

When you and I could no longer stay away,

And commitment phobia had to say goodbye,

“Yes” to our dream house I got you to say.

I never dreamt of a fancy church wedding,

What mattered most was our sacred promise,

So with the post-it marriage and a simple ring,

We sealed our vows with a magical kiss

As always, life wasn’t a bed full of roses,

We couldn’t throw away each prickly thorn,

But with baby Zola and our family poses,

A set of adopted parents had been born

Recorded inside the flat screen television,

Scripted romance became relationship goals,

As admiring fans, their love story envision,

And Mer and Der touched countless souls.

POETRY IN MOTION

He went up on tipped toes, feeling taller,
Each mocking face, was getting smaller,
Left behind each taunt, he forgot all sorrow,
Another ounce of confidence, he needn't borrow

As the music played, he forgot the world,
Radiating happiness, all over he twirled,
The crowd taken aback, mouths wide open,
He looked like poetry, written without a pen

Never before, had he felt so much at peace,
Life off the stage, as if began to cease,
He left "toe" prints, all over the dance floor,
Thousands of lips, each begging for more

Ballerino for life, ecstatic he decided,
finishing his routine, off the floor he glided,
as applause got lighter, remained two loud cheers,
Parents in the front row, removed his last fears.

COLD-BLOODED

Inkless pages, bloodless body,
as the ink ran out, the corpse stayed still,
Ironic, that the writer left her last note blank,
Ripped her own heart out, and "in" the knife sank.

Another pure life, went to waste,
another victory, the devil did taste,
It was a murder, performed by her own hand,
as he stood in the background, preparing his stand.

Horrified husband, or doting neighbour this time?
Death, he believed, was his favourite crime,
He called 911, going for the safe neighbour,
Mortified, he pleaded, he was shaken to the core.

His cold plan, seemed to play out well,
His role in the murder, did not ring a bell,
A few months later, as the case seemed to close,
A new, beautiful victim, he set out and chose.

CUTTING THE CORD

One not-so-fine-morning, she cut the cord,
reminding herself, it was her reward,
Re-learning to fly farther away,
farther towards the shining ray

The cord, though was a beautiful ring,
with itself, happiness it did bring,
but along came difficulties and compromise,
she had once, even, celebrated her own demise

But now, it felt as though she was reborn,
Again, her carefree ensemble she had worn,
And walked outside with a happy glow,
There was plenty of sadness, even though

The cord, though holding, was a fond ornament,
That she wore proudly wherever she had went,
The time, she said, had simply come,
For it to be over, and the cord to be undone

And so she walked a different course, 

with a fond goodbye, and a little remorse,
parting ways on a positive end,
for her own self, she would now fend.