The Reincarnation: Poetry of Love and Vengeance 22

Chapter 1: Love:

You couldn’t have been sweeter than this,
The way you turn to the mirror
Sway in that new pair of jeans,
And say, “Honey, how do I look?”
I would say,
Angel, you don’t need a mirror, just look into my eyes,
Your eyes, mellowed with tears and years,
would suddenly light up!
Feels good, when I am in those black magic eyes,
Feels good, when I am the pacifier to the drunken twilight!
You couldn’t have been warmer than this,
As you laugh at me,
and hold me closer,
I put my arms on your shoulders
and I bet, You would hide your face in my shirt.
I will tell you…
“Don’t peep at me with those naked eyes,
lest I read all your secrets sweetheart”,
And you whisper back,
“haven’t you been writing…
Your poems to the seas and oceans all these years?”
Men are not supposed to cry, but I swear,
if I did…
You would have rubbed it off,
with your lips!
Feels good, when you need the heaven in my arms,
Feels good, when you give away all your fears to me!


Rip off 1: written on 26th May 2005: Once upon a time, you had walked away from me, you gave me my solitude and my poetries, a will to claw back, every time I fell.

You couldn’t have been more real than this,
But I wouldn’t dare say,
how afraid, I was…
To hold those trembling hands,
to look into those love lost eyes,
smeared with kohl!
I don’t know, when
I shall make you believe in love again,
Listen to you breathe,
lie beside you
till the reddish eastern sky.
Up in the horizon,
like a morning angel, shining as a crazy diamond,
The first peck on the cheek,
those butterfly eyelids.
Sweetheart, you are forgiven, loved, kissed and smeared with morning dews.
Hold my hand; kiss me, because I have saved that last dance for you.

Rip off 2: Written on 3rd March 2007: I am, today, what you have made me. But where were you when I was burnt and broken, where were you when I was hurt and helpless. And now you come back to me?


Chapter 2: Vengeance:

Remember how you sat next to me
and looked into my eyes,
Your lips didn’t move,
but your eyes spoke for you.
I touched your hot cheeks
with the back of my palm, caring!
You pressed my hands,
and ruffled my messy hair,
The caution in the air was overwhelming,
Those red lips never looked so mesmerizing.
I suddenly realized, what my poetries meant,
those tears, have finally merged into the ocean,
lost forever!
I wished to hide the vengeance in my eyes,
But were they too radiant?
All those lonely nights,
those blank seismic thoughts,
Flooded in, swarmed me
You pulled my shirt
and drew me closer, I never said no,
I wanted to have that decade back,
Every night, every dose of the slow poison.
We kissed, merging the twilight and the morning sun.
I wrote my own destiny,
you had t come back…
come back to the seas..
The wait was long,
but then there was the rose!
I guess its dawn again, Where is my morning kiss?
Some more sugar, honey?


The Epilogue


This boy used to sit in the darkest f the rooms, weeping like a child, weaving magic with his pen, painting love in his god damned way he wanted to see it, but never could.  At some points of time, he didn’t realize how the tears rolled off his eyes and dried down. If there were pages of the diary, he would have shown, how wet they were. And then again she talks of feeling unwanted. The boy has long since, known, being the orphan of destiny, and bless him so that, he takes the feeling into his grave, untold.

There is too much for time to erase, too many layers of moss had gathered on the stone. Sometimes it is just so hard, to clean them and again look into those eternal blacks and dream the impossible thing. She does not wear the blue-white uniform any more, she doesn’t love him for no reason. There won’t be a swarm of students, rushing through the long corridors, tussles for the school bus, a skipped heartbeat, a pair of eyes following her, as if they just glide over hundreds of black heads to sit right next to her.

Will there again be those skies of that magical evening of 23rd July 1998 when it rained because this little boy wanted to? Just to make this earth and a tiny heart love struck? Prancing in the small puddles of water logged holes, just because of a simple reason that he feels he loves a girl?

Will there be another day, when he would realize that there could be no woman more beautiful than her? The boy wants those violets-turned-blue-turned-yellow-turned-green-red back, so that he can draw again, and this time a future so perfect, even fucking GOD would shudder to intervene.

And she cribs, when he asks for some help to wipe the moss off the stone? He had never written anything, for anybody, in this little life of his, with so much of hope and happiness! The hope that she would say “yes” and the happiness that he would borrow for sometime from her radiant face!


Have you ever felt the two strong opposite emotions over anything or anybody? Sensed the magic in the nights? If yes, do share your thoughts as a comment in this blog, or on the Facebook  CLOSE UP fan page. This post is going into a contest, please Vote For me! at Indiblogger by ‘promoting’ my post. Thanks in advance!

About Dream Peddler

The author finds too many similarities with himself and the boy Calvin. Although a cold blooded techie, working with an Indian software MNC, the finer things of love and life fascinates him. Major portions of his work are about the things that inspires and pacifies. Politics and society too get a chance.

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