Coz you see best when your eyes are closed.

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Speak, they say

If I could speak, I would
to share a part of me
With the world I cherish
with the tomorrow to be

There are lines and points
to be drawn and made
Numerous stances taken
before they fade

There are dreams and wishes
yearning to fly
Declarations of feats
I’m willing to try

If I could speak, I would
to voice a part of me
To change the world a little
with the tomorrow to be

Thoughts wont come
to a grieving mind
No space for any
though emptiness I find

However may I utter
with not a want
When my own voice sounds
an unfaithful taunt

If I could speak, I would
to bleed a part of me
To reach for the world
that holds the tomorrow to be

From a distant voice
I long to hear
From my mouth the words
far too familiar

They resound and assure
relieve me from within
The confines of the need
of a heart writhin’

If I could speak, I would
to free a part of me
To feel one with the world
promising the tomorrow to be

Someday speak I will
a freedom reaching out
For then the hand wont search
for a comforting silhouette

Thoughts will come pouring
and emotions run free
With art n articulation
and boundless energy

If I could speak, I would
to live a part of me
To live for the world
make the tomorrow to be.


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Think of Me

I am what you aim for
Do not question me
I am what you’re proud of
Do not doubt me
I am what will come to you
Do not run after me
I am what is yours
Do not fight for me
I am always with you
Do not search for me
I am what you are for
Do not let go of me

When you can’t see the road ahead
Trust me
When you can’t see the road behind
Believe in me
When you can’t understand others
Understand me
When you can’t feel complete
Feel me
When you can’t think of answers
Think of me
I am your life
Live for me.

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The Little Man Who Wasn’t There

The poem is titled ‘Antigonish‘ and written by Hughes Mearns. It also goes by the name ‘The little man who wasn’t there’. A seemingly beautiful wordplay at first, there seems to be more to it. There’s a haunting aura that lingers behind. Not the haunt of a frightful nature but one of a remorseful nature. Read on with your own interpretation of it.

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away…

When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door… (slam!)

Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away


Everlasting Beauty

A poem that I wrote in high school for a competition. Still brings back beautiful memories.


“What a beautiful ring that is
And what a pretty red dress
I wish I was slimmer
then I would be perfect”
Looking through the shops
I continued down the lane
Suddenly collided with someone
“Are you insane?”
I turned to see a girl
with a cane in her hand
who couldn’t see with her eyes
the sky or the land
“I’m sorry,” she apologised
“You see, I’m blind
That’s why I stumbled onto you
I hope you don’t mind.”
She was tall and slim
and wore a red dress
But couldn’t see for herself
the beauty of this bless
I gazed at her intently
and searched her eyes
“You are so beautiful
do you even realise?”
“What is beauty,” she asked; I said,
“Anything that appeals to the eyes”
“Where do you think then the problem lies
In the object or in the eyes?”
“With darkness all around me
what can I see?
Does that mean the world is dull
I should believe?”
“Who decides what is good
what is to be and what not to be
Beauty is not a written rule
but something that lies with me”
“If I see in the sun
not its warmth but glare
I would believe that in the world
there’s nobody to love and care”
“I see in a child his innocence
in a student his dedication
in a labourer his earnesty
and in a priest his devotion”
“If I find the world beautiful
who is to stop me
from being what I am
feeling as I ought to feel”
Saying so she left
with a smiling face
walking with contentment
at a steady pace
I watched her go by
then turned and sighed
Wondered about all the things
to whom credit I had denied
No longer did I see the ring
or the red dress
“What is beautiful about them?
They’re the same more or less”
I learned to see the greenery
feel the wind in my hair
and look beyond a pretty face
to see who loved and cared
I’m grateful to the girl
for now I do realise
the blind girl had showed me that
everlasting beauty lies in my eyes.