Endlessly

 

I walk through the house

Listlessly

It seems so big somehow

And so empty.

I strain my ears.

Is that your voice I hear?

That laugh that was so typically you.

I close my eyes and I can breathe in the scent of your body,

Feel its warmth surrounding me.

I reach out and can touch you,

Feel the texture of your skin

So achingly familiar.

I open my eyes reluctantly

To find myself alone

As I wait for you

Endlessly.

 

 

This post is in response to the Friday reflections prompt of the week: “Sometimes waiting is the hardest thing of all.” – Luanne Rice

Maya Angelou

This year is a very special year for me. I call it  “my year of awesomeness”  and one of the things that I have done to make it really awesome, is to surround myself with things and people that really mean something to me and rid my life of things that take away from my happiness. So it was no wonder that one of the books that got added to my library was “The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou.”maya angelou

I remember the first time I came across a poem of hers, “And still I rise” I just sat transfixed, taking in the poem. While reading it, the poem became me and I became the poem. I became a die hard fan ever since.

I read about all the talks she was invited to, I read about how famous she was. I read about the people who admired her.

And then I read her poems.

And her poems took me to the person she was. I came to know her, to love her, to cry with her, to hope with her, to feel her strength in me.

Through her poems I saw the 7 year old child, who was abused and who blamed herself for the death of the man who abused her; who punished herself by losing her voice. I saw the woman she grew up to be, strong, even a bit defiant, but not scared to be totally herself as she found her voice back through her poems and her writings. The day she died, I cried, as if I had lost a friend,a very close friend. I was devastated that I would never hear her through her poems again.

Today as I read her, I realize I do not want the fame and admiration she had. What I want is that when someone is sitting alone and quietly reading what I have written, my poem, my writing should enter their heart and soul and help them to heal the way Maya Angelou’s poems helped me.

You can get the book for your self through my affiliate link here.

 

 

Happy Reading!

NaPoWriMo – Day 14 Yellow Roses

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Yellow Roses

Don’t give me red roses,

They frighten me.

I don’t want declarations of undying love

And deep passion.

So please don’t give me red roses.

Their darkness scares me!

I’d much rather have yellow roses,

That talk of sunlight,

And friendship,

And all that’s light and bright.

So if you have to give me roses,

Bring me the sunshine,

And not the darkness.

 

 

NaPoWriMo – day 13 Drunken Nostalgia

 

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Drunken Nostalgia

Chilled beer

Warm summer afternoons

Abba playing in the background.

Voulez vous ?

Oh yes I would!

I would so go back to those days,

Of LP records,

And yelling out the lyrics at the top of our voices!

Of making jugsful of Rasna

And suddenly I am running barefoot

On the maidan

Trying to put the tipris back

Before the ball hits us.

And playing sakhli and dabha “eyes spice”

And chor police

And knocking down jaams and boras

In the neighbour’s compound.

Drowsy summer afternoons

Chilled beer

Abba and nostalgia!