Don't go by the cover, go by the badges of victory!
What's Special? 😉
A book of poetry for all of your moods and genres, just look in brackets and choose the one that fits your mood. Be it mini poems or reverse - haiku, sonnet or acrostic. Be it...
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Someday as I turn the pages of, The notebook of my life. I'll probably come across a name, Written somewhere at the last page, In beautiful cursive, Amidst a whole lot of scribbled words, My half hearted attempts at love poetry. Scratched out hastily in despair. The incomplete blank verses, Unheard, unsung and unspoken. Maybe I'd whisper his name, Again, slowly, savoring the taste, Of the name on my tongue, Letting those letters caress me, Bringing in that rush of wildness, The madness of a first love, The smoldering fire of passion, Which had long since been doused, By the cold wave of his attitude. And the freezing shadows of his ego. Maybe my mind would travel down, A dusty memory lane, gathering bits, Shreds of what were left of us. After all the clashes of biting words. And I'd chuckle silently to myself, Remembering how foolish I was, To have believed that Something, somewhere was there, That bound us together, The magnetism that drew me to you, And like a moth to the flames, I jumped. I was a thoughtless idiot, but still. Even he wouldn't deny that I cared. Genuinely, always but those moments, Weren't to return, ever. As I look at the sky, Wondering in which corner of the world, He resides and if even for once, My name crosses his mind? Sometimes when he does reminisce, His college days, doesn't a figure, Pop into his memory? A plump girl with earphones roaming alone, An irritating junior pestering him, Someone he always smiled at. And those half waves, snatches of conversation, Won't he remember how we talked. Of love at times and he was always, Droning about his love life? But I didn't complain once, Though it killed me everytime. Well, he doesn't know maybe. Or maybe he knows all about, My feelings, my emotions, my heart. But he was elder, better, mature, He was a man and me, a sappy teenager. We couldn't be one, ever. Maybe destiny was sitting somewhere, Mocking all my efforts. And I'll slam shut the notebook, And his name will vanish. Maybe my eyes will grow moist, My lips will tremble a little. But I'd find a pair of hands, Encircling me, wiping my eyes and realise. That I'm not alone anymore. I've found love again, in someone.
