She wanted the life of a poet
dreamed it as perfect as a duet
vowed to stay in bounds of love
yearning, all the while, a cove
the strain tugged at her temples
whilst she hugged onto herself
the baby wailed every other hour
the kettle whistled during her slumber
her husband dragged himself home
tired from dawdling in office gossip
and screamed over the baby’s cries
that she wasn’t attentive enough.
Many a friend the pair entertained
toured the house, showcased the baby
promised to pay visits in return
it was a custom never questioned.
From baby they progressed to kids
he went away for days with busy work
the metaphors that clung to her chest
threatened to let go unless let out
but a boy and a girl were chores enough
she put pen to paper only in her mind
settled little brawls in the meantime
she wanted to be a poet with a life
got a household with a louse instead.
Tag: conflict
I Looked at Her
I looked at her
as she lay in my bed
her eyes closed in peace
slumber I never knew
the curls of her hair
sway with blowing breeze
the blond of her curls
boiled jealousy in my veins
and while she lay there
unsuspecting, unknowing
and I there, all too knowing
I reached out, couldn’t help but,
a hand to caress her tresses
she remained still as a leaf
on a windless summer’s night
as I twisted a longing finger
through her summoning swirls
but she stayed immobile as always
darling dearest, my gift, my doll.
To Define…
It’s not about studded shoes and decked dresses or dinner parties with seven wines.
It’s not about fresh bills in a Coach, Chopard on the wrist, and stacks in the account.
It’s not about lean legs, tiara-topped heads, or Louis Vuitton handbags.
It’s not about bedside pools, or poolside bars, or bayside resorts.
It’s not about dabbling in pearls, or dawdling in Rolls.
It’s not a trendy summer vacation, a honeymoon destination, or a cruising expedition.
Not about the glitter, the possessions, or positions.
It’s the hot chocolate on rainy days, the comforting book on bad days, and an extra scoop of ice-cream.
Luxury is contentment in the small things.
Life Goals
She was twenty-five already, and all friends were settled for life. A high-earning fiancée, a well-planned wedding, a fancy honeymoon, and a lifetime ahead of baking and eating. They had the money, they had the luxe, they had the looks. When days were free, they went to the movies, shopped for love, and selfied their vanity. Life was busy.
She still lived in a dingy lone apartment. She’d wake up each morning, work out, walk to work, get worked up, and walk back home to her books. Some weekends she’d get drunk and binge on Friends. And when she felt like it, she trekked untrodden ways and chased sunrises. Life was good.
Talk About Health
They say it’s unhealthy
if you eat too healthy
but what am I to do
when everything I do
makes me fat as a cat
stuffed inside a hat
but what am I to do
there’s so much ado
apples, pears are body shapes
kale and fads, women of shams
it’s all just a scam
all I want is some ham
to stuff in my fancy bread
that’s all grain, oat, and dread
Oh, what’s the point of dieting
If it’s about hiding your craving?
The Chaos Within 