Put your rating for this post for encouraging the author
A Land Far From Here
Capture the sunshine at the corners your room,
Let yourself feel the light for a while.
Let your decaying bones heal for a while.
I, so, narrate to you the world outside the boundaries of you mind and room,
Far, far from here, there’s a place where flowers bloom and there is no one as gloom as anyone in this old house.
There,
In the dark early mornings,
Throaty laughter fills in the empty spaces of a loner’s heart,
Warm smiles makes darkness sway with the dance of lovers
In the bright cheery afternoons,
Everyone rushes towards the night to escape the reality,
Their tedious smiles contrast with their own frisky hands.
Evening arrives later than usual in summer,
And trees are the first one to drift to sleep,
They outcry each time wind passes by only to disrupt them in their sleep
And under the tree’s fading shadows humans walk home with a few bills in their pockets and half spread smiles on their faces.
Night finally arrives and is welcomed with murmurs of lovers, protests of children and happiness of nocturnals
In a regular small alive house,
Father walks impatiently to see his family,
And as he rings the doorbell, the darkest parts of his son’s day are forgotten as he goes to greet his father.
In every house in that land,
Dinner is served as the words fill in the air and love fill in the hearts.
Each part of ‘what was done’ and ‘what was said’ is told on that table.
And when dinner gets over, children grumpily walk into the room,
Parent fall in the void so deep that even wind can’t hassle them.
And they all wait for another tomorrow to do it all again.
While you weep under your bed,
See the seasons change,
Hope to survive the night,
Scar your hands,
Slowly reach towards the culmination of a painful life,
When you could have been a native of the land of love and happiness and you could have died happy, Young but happy.
But you chose to live with the grievances of past,
And universe obliged.
The Quaint Black Man
The quaint black man is here again,
He twirls, bend to the lyric he made up.
A voice so shrill, his lyric so blithe,
And his existence loathed by the most dulcet birds of this town.
The quaint black man is here again,
With the white flowers in his black hand,
With his black skin in this white town.
Glares, stares, pity are thrown his way but
He doesn’t see, Oh! He can’t see.
What a joy, He won’t see this crest fallen world.
The quaint black man is here again,
Maybe to love, Maybe to live
He marches to the river proudly,
Everyday to hear a woman’s sob.
Gives her the white flower, and listens to her
Fragments of sentences that concludes her life story
But doesn’t make sense somehow.
He does not dare utter a word and send her choking on her misery
He speaks when she commands him to.
She, for the first time, feels her words are worth.
For the first time, feels she is worth.
Quaint black man sings happy songs in this sad town.
The white little girls and boys holds his rough hand one day,
They screech the songs worst than him,
And the town feels a little alive.
They jump on puddles, walk to the edge of this town.
And run around in doodles.
He smiles though his grey hair at this blue town.
Quaint black man turns white someday.
Cold as ice and melts the entire town’s heart.
Quaint black man isn’t so quaint anymore,
Men shed a tear or so at the death of their town’s happiness
Women sobs for a man they fell in love with but never knew him.
The children grow up to become the quaint black man,
This worlds needs more so,
A man who turns blind to critics,
A man who sings and doesn’t sighs,
A man who listens to ramble, and rambles himself,
A man who let people know their worth and knows his worth.
A man who loves and lives till his last breath.
16 minutes of life
He is fidgeting uncontrollably, breathing slowly but the alarm clocks harps happily.
Indicating 16 minutes of more pain.. In between the chaos in his brain he calculates the time, revaluates his plan and awaits death.
16 minutes ago, he swallowed 17 pills. Each one for each scar on his soul…
He finally gave up to the monsters under his bed and inside his mind..
12 minutes to go, He sees birds chirping at his window. He wants to get up and fly with them but he is a faller not meant to fly.
8 minutes to go, he sees his family smiling in his pictures from years ago and he suddenly wants to see them smile again but knows he is leaving them nothing but misery.
4 minutes to go, pain seeps along with darkness in bright sunny sunday morning in his room and he wants to hold on to darkness and make his way to another agonizing morning until he finally willingly wants to wake up the next morning but he leaves himself no choice.
2 minutes to go, He hears turning of a knob. It’s the wind. he wants to smile but he can’t. He wants to feel this everyday but he can’t.
Someone shouts, Someone cries. It’s his consciousness
1 minute and 30 seconds to go, darkness finally embraces him.
After 8 days, he wakes up in a hospital, Smiles widely at his family, Laughs to himself and realises.
It took him only 16 minutes in 17 years of his entire life to learn to live
