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Posts Tagged ‘catch’

He keeps me shrouded in shredded pieces

sprawled and reclusive and momentarily

locked up vanishing in mediocrity.

 

Like someone who is afraid of the sanity

and Charles Dicken’s tale of two cities

and I never get to understand Virginia

Woolf, why her heart cries like a wolf

in the night longing for words as

earnest as Oscar Wilde. Dorian must be

some kind of lover of self and boisterous

as Ernest Hemingway. Not in the league

 

of imagination pours in my cup of tea.

Blood of ink flooding in my desk.

Days and days of wandering and wondering

where the words hide in the curtains.

That great expectation.

 

Lucky is Jane Austen for she can choose

not to be shrouded and shredded but

privileged unlike some Emily Bronte’s

Heathcliffe who tries to redeem romance.

Some hearts that pound in the will of the horse

and to kill a mockingbird of Harper Lee.

I hope to catch the rye like JD Salinger.

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Sometimes,  I catch myself

wondering about you

on some moonless evenings

or misty mornings, drifting-

where have your pages brought you

on some ride in the wind

or tail of a comet’s end.

 

Somewhere

hidden beneath the shadow of stars

thinking

 

who’s reading you now.

Whose hands walk

the landscape of your soul.

A borrowed moment

inhaling your scent

and leaving fine, little circles

of fingerprints

much softer than mine.

 

Sorry if

I left you-

 

like letters I burn in the fireplace

while watching the ashes float in winter air

and fall sadly to the pavement. Like rain

 

remembering the sweet hours.

The blur images of innocence

and immortality you believed

then, but honestly, I realize how beautiful

it was

 

and I kept you

for awhile but good things never last.

I wonder

 

who’s reading you now,

whose mind can fathom

the deeper meaning of you.

Whose hands were

much cleaner than mine.

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A balloon hollow as air

I float miles farther away

no one could catch me.

I’m not here. Drifting

past the roofs of cities

and a maze of streets.

No one could see me now.

Lingering among clouds,

playing with dreams,

breathing a reality

of existing to survive.

In a skin I lived in

may not reveal who

a being- hidden within.

A face. A soul waiting

to be exhaled

and found again.

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Here, walks people

wasting not a second

navigating urgent missions.

Without halt, in cycles

coming to and from,

fast and slow. We walk

alongside the bobbing sea

of heads and shoulders.

 

There goes a man

who is in a hurry

to catch his train.

While the woman

will just be in time

to make it with an appointment.

Some guy chases a girl.

And a working mom

squeezing in the crowd while

talking on her mobile phone.

 

Like them,

this pavement

lay a mute witness

to strangers who make their way

onward to destinations-

to directions

precisely peg-marked

as milestones to life.

 

Turning left and right,

brushing past signals

and pedestrian crossings

colliding like busy ants.

Our back’s two steps ahead

to the ones whom we have left

behind. Existing as familiar

tourist walking our two legs

in an imaginary life machine.

No one notices the other.

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Cut the line, if you do not want to hear what I’m saying.

Burn the page, if you do not like what you see.

I don’t have the habit of repeating myself

over and over again just to be understood.

 

Somehow, there will come a time that explanations

are not required. Questions are left unsaid

out of courtesy, while your mind is bubbling

with doubts, you need to accept me of who I am.

 

Like this, we talk on the phone without expression.

The heavy tone of your voice means a disappointment.

You’re definitely upset when I can’t catch you. And you

can’t catch me as we are both lost in translation.

 

Let us stop this virtual war. This undue vexation

of words coated in the niceties of being cerebral.

Can’t we simply talk as normal humans do,

caught in the flimsiness of conduct and etiquette?

 

You see, I didn’t plan to have more than five

stanza to this poem and keep on intellectualizing

on how stupid it was to win our every argument.

You know, sometimes you do not have to fight

 

every battles you are invited in. Just choose-

the best one. And argue with me. Fine.

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There’s a suitcase in the hall.

And emptiness will soon occupy it.

Something which kept me immobile,

quite undecided to test the wind

or its aged leafless trees outside

 

where the silent pavement beckons

and my own shadow as a companion.

How should I, in the permanence of seasons

would not be keen to grasp the clues

that promises were never made to last?

 

I thought I could be strong enough.

I thought I would not have a glimpse

of that leathery box which collected

my yesterday’s dust of missed chances

that dried up in the passing of years.

 

I thought I could forget the barrenness

of autumn’s leaving another space

which I tried to fill with the leaves of days.

Un-withered, but soon became faded letters

that I will be keeping in this humble suitcase.

 

Memories of old coming back to me now.

I will turn the knob to open another door,

and walk into another painful journey

of beginnings. Never ending days catching

the falling leaves as remnants of moments.

 

And when the falling snow in the winter comes

and rest on the branches of those leafless trees,

like the way I carry the weight of my suitcase.

I will try picking up the pieces again and slowly

survive another night without the moon nor the stars.

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I will have to catch the train

and leave you. For I am

a wanderer in search

of a destiny. Only here

squeezing in time,

making  a sidetrip

for memory’s sake.

Holiday is sweet

in these short hours.

 

Recollecting the good

old-natured yesterday

becoming vague now.

And in your eyes

there are outlines

of the life you wish

you had with me.

How could it be

so beautiful? Still

I cannot stay, if only

I exist in a fairytale.

 

There is a real world

outside your nutshell.

Breaking away beyond

here- that I must go.

I need to exist

day after day

among other strangers

flocking the city streets.

How can you keep

a dream from going on?

I am not so sure, while

 

I catch train after train

hoping not to return.

Ignoring the illusions

fulfilling your fantasy.

I found you, still,

a girl and a child.

With the same old

story to tell. And you

do not see that I have

become so different.

So far away, a distance

far too wide to belong.

 

Love is not possible

between you and me.

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