Out of Site! Out of Mind!
Like… Love
an FB poetic collab with the talented fashionista, Maitri Shah.
Like clouds sweeping off
from my window,
he went ahead and on,
to dissolve
and rain in some alien lands.
And the one in my room the other day
was that of unrequited love.
Like those water sweeping
through the creeks of the mountains,
from the glacier high above,
she flows smoothly
towards the unknown lands,
Making her way, painting
the colors of the wind,
taking the shapes and forms it seeps
Into my world, into my dreams,
into my being,
Once she comes looking for me,
the next she sets me free,
and that was one of the nonreciprocating feels.
Like eternity. Like everything, yielded
out of everything,
and going to everything
Matter here and that.
Love now and ever.
Life, a moment, and dreamless sleep.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and
a glance of the past.
What is, is. And love of all kinds
intermix into a tyrant’s pretty eyes.
The eyes — I can’t begin to fathom,
of what the vision might be
Green or olive; envy much
or strength of peridot or a judgemental mime
Blue, purple, lavender or gray seems
like the universe in its own shine
Be it brown black or blind,
makes no difference when you can dream from the very beautiful mind
Beyond what we see,
a project to conceive,
Invent, fabricate, dream or fantasize,
let it be a picture of your arms
wrapped around the waist of mine
For I want to relive,
re-create,
even hallucinate, your touch
so strong, almost hallucinate.
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It’s like stroking a picture,
with colors that won’t drain,
More like a photograph. Everything’s
captured in moments and perpetuity.
Your gentle yet rash touch —
the duality of heavens, Chicago
And I stare
deep
past your black-brown
and blind Lake Michigan
And I see those shoulders
that bird-away the winds and my chills.
Endlessly long days,
with blinding light
Like a picture
to paint with sun so bright
Everything sparse, faint, away, distant
and quaint, yet
warmth between southerners like soul
searching sight,
Oh your touch so cold with dew,
fire and ice in single day’s feint
Blue bonnet fields
and hays rolled on the field
The language
so bold yet a heart big enough to yield
From the green
forest to the woods so vast,
downtown’s crazy loud,
yet the country untainted from past
Houston — your beauty,
I surrender,
I lay down my pen and tears
down my eyes, I smile
again as a precast
These are natural and nonchalant
images, colors free
As every other thing American.
And that woman
Salutations at the very gates, crying
‘give me your tempest-tossed’ in green;
Every other thing American,
that American dream,
always makes me green eyed.
The beauty of you —
Houston, New York, LA.
And I wish of a lover of similar traits,
I will always look for one.
One that’d me keep down the pen,
away the blank
Paper and write anew on another one.
A love that’s know no bounds of love,
Beyond lands and airs of which
We’ll sail and sway from our bed
post making love.
Come back soon
For I am waiting,
For the dinner we almost had,
For the times I always talked about
For the trip we almost took
For the plans we almost had
For the time we almost shared
The future we almost saw together
But more importantly
come back soon so that
I can kiss you at my heart’s zeal.
It was an experience, half filled
champagne glasses
on the table which stopped bubbling
now.
My heart in between them,
just as halved;
a quarter to that unformed
future, a quarter
in the back pocket of your jeans.
The only option’s returning.
‘Nostos’. Home coming.
The craving of it halves you:
living and living-dead
I’ll be right here. I’ll constant
the clocks. No ticks,
just me biting my lips every
now and then. And half
my heart beating.
Too often I love too much
and forget to tune
the intensity of this little woeful heart,
I end up breaking
because of the love that I was
so much saving
And yet
if you still have to prove your worth to ‘em
Leave!
As your worth should be the first
things they learn
without you having to explain it to them,
so strive!
I first read a poem from Maitri a while ago, and I liked it the very moment. Later on I was to find out about her writing style, which I love to call, the rhythmically poetic post modern: my two fave poetic style glued together. A grace with words… she works with them as a romantic does, still managing to squeeze in the taste of the modern reality. I have collaborated with quite a few writers here on Medium, and every time I get to learn so much; you get to know how a person thinks while composing, what kind of mindset machines behind it. Maitri here though, always trying to be humble, points out that I helped her, but of course, a true talent doesn’t need much help. I had fun with this one, and am looking forward to what our another collab on FB will result in, as I know she is too. For the upcoming, watch this space:-)
