“You”, she said “Are like the twig I held on to That snapped”
I was terrified, And you- my only hope The one that never leaves-
While I turned my head around Felt a backstab A pain that went roots deep
In my logic We were but one mind and heart Who poisoned your veins?
27.2.2024
Notes
When you grow accustomed to trust being shattered, you often find yourself scrutinizing those with genuine intentions towards you. The fear of disappointment from others becomes so ingrained that each stumble reinforces the belief that people are inherently untrustworthy. Yet, it’s essential to recognize that everyone is fallible, even those we hold dear, and we shouldn’t harshly judge them based on past betrayals. Distinguishing between those who betray our trust and those who are simply imperfect yet deserving of our trust becomes crucial.
(Someone requested me to write about Marriage. Here we go! This is the poem I wrote prior to getting married, and I’ve never shared it with anyone. Enjoy!)
Never have I ever… Felt this strongly for any man, Or been awoken by the power of love, As I have with you. Never have I ever explored what fantasies I desire, Or what to truly be touched with love really means I have seen you, loved you, been around you And right now I feel certain of my commitment to you, To spend all my days with you, To serve you and be loved by you To give up all the suitors in the world, as you give up yours too, and to choose each other for a lifetime I feel teary thinking of this, For I have often feared the pain of being hurt by a lover, I’ve been bruised and shuttered, I have been misunderstood, Yet I choose to be brave and to choose love Saying no to fear-based emotion, I open my hands to you, And with them my life also, and my mind, and my heart, and my soul 😭 Never have I ever given up control, as I do intend to give you (on 16.12.22)
I’ve been out and about Looking for life Life that felt lively, happy I’ve been down in the dumps Hurt, confused, broken, scattered A few times my heart was glad But what’s life if not a struggle
I did want to quit I quit a dozen times honestly Then picked myself up and tried again But trying is tiring So I got lost again Constantly and horribly More and more after every trial Till I got to this plateau Now I can smile a little I feel regulated I have some control
In this moment I am compelled To share my life and thoughts To write horribly and make mistakes One can only live once So here’s my only life in words Take it, or don’t
(Do leave me prompts of anything you’d like to see me write about. Till next time, bye)
My Love will be the death of me, Because I love too fiercely, carelessly I have given away myself I have sold me off to my captor And I cannot undo this sacrifice And this I find to be a grave thing But what can I do ? If I’ve handed over the keys… To my lifetime cell So am convinced thus: that I will continue to burn I will burn, in every possible way, every day I will burn when I stare And see that he’s imperfect I will burn when his eyes stray To those of another I will burn for last year’s mistakes For every future failing And when I fully burn, Twill be the end of me.
Suicide runs in my family. My uncle jumped over a bridge and drowned when I was a kid. Then years later, my big sister followed, she died in the hospital with the doctors giving CPR on a dead body. The only things she left behind were bills, tears, and a son. And maybe a bit of memory imprisoned in photographs and resuscitated in the person of her son— as a reminder that she was once here. I missed both funerals. I feared I would be taking another dead body to another person’s funeral. She was a good woman, though. I loved her.
I’ve also had thoughts of my own, of suicide. But it’s hardly noticeable, even to me. I know this from the way I live my life like I’ve got a spare— forlorn, tired, bitter, unlovable, isolated as if I’ll enjoy the next life. All these could kill me if I’m not dead already.
Though I live a careful life, death grins every time I leave the house. Everything is trying to kill me. Touts manhandle me to board their vehicles as if they’re about to dislocate parts of me. Others suffocate me with love as if I’m not already dead inside.
Suicide runs in my family. It would be okay if nobody was running in my family. But obesity would kill them too. So, I run in my family, to keep fit. To prevent my body from killing me as it did my sister. I saw her frail in the hospital bed for months, as she fought to keep alive, and her body weakened, responding with the opposite energy. And I grinned because I didn’t know what to say to the setting sun.
And I avoid drowning in alcohol, too. I live with my heart on my sleeves, and a fist in my pocket. Because it is suicide if the things you love kill you too.
I had a little garden,
A garden my dad gave me,
Gave me ‘fore he died.
I went to see my garden,
My garden in the countryside,
The country green and lush.
So I tilled my garden,
My garden till it cleared,
Cleared up all the weeds.
I brought some seeds with me,
Of ‘tatoes and ‘matoes,
Tomatoes surely sell.
I packed up went back home,
Back home to do my job,
My job is pretty boring.
It rained upon my garden,
My garden grew so fast,
Fast forward by a month.
I traveled back to see it,
See, it did look great,
See all these leafy greens.
But were these *‘tatoes and *‘matoes?
No ‘tatoes and ‘matoes here!
Here were plants I did not plant.
One weed, two weeds, three weeds,
Three weeds, ten weeds, twenty,
Twenty-twenty was the year.
Bullies all over my farm!
My farm was clearly invaded,
Invaded by invasive plants.
A weed is an unwanted plant,
A plant I didn’t put here,
Here I was discouraged.
A weed party, is what it was,
It was a gruesome sight,
Sight that made my heart sink.
I stood my ground that day,
That day I made it clear,
Clear for all to hear.
This party is over!
The weed party is over!
Now everyweedy go home!
There is not a day,
That I did not plan,
To sit and write a poem.
Why? There always has been,
One topic- too many,
Hoarded here at heart.
Yet I did not write,
For I fear my words,
Might come piercing back.
I've heard some say,
Words ruin good things,
I've already lost enough.
Yet here I am sitting,
Writing off my not writing,
I will not fear failing.
For I must brave up now,
To write for the future,
Who's 'now' will be the past.
24.05.2022
Jonah of old to Nineveh went, And when his mission did end, He sat in the heat of the sun His head got burnt and scorched But the Lord with His mercies full, Gave Jonah a tree for shade.
The tree gave him back his life, When his neck was bent, His throat badly parched, He was refreshed, His spirit revived.
The Lord then sent a worm Which did eat the tree, Which did then kill the tree And Jonah got upset, But the tree remained lifeless.
You are a tree, The worm is near, The worm must come, To bring you back home, To rest your body in soil, The soil from which you came.
What will you do before then? Dear tree, will you shelter? Will you restore a dying man? The master made you for shelter Shade a Jonah with your lovely leaves. And be ready for the worm is near.
In this journey called life, Missing a turn has brought many strife, Things would be different; if we’d live more in the moment As God’s grace is enough, even when our will supercedes His I’d appreciate the plant like Jonah, enjoy the good while it lasts
When your steps are slagged, do not lose your spark He gives rest, Just as He provided a shade for Jonah His love is always up, and it’s burn as intense as the sun Even when from purpose we run, He will quench our thirst
When you get a win, live a life that is full of praise Keep your eyes on the prize, you might just get a raise But be careful lest you settle, a worm might be sent Just like one was for Jonah, and the tree that grew just fell
lizmishpoetry 