GloPoWriMo: Day XX: Pawn Takes King

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt encourages participants to incorporate the vocabulary and imagery of a sport. So I hope you enjoy this hastily penned piece attempting to put a gothically romantic twist on the sport most readily analogous to life…

They called him the Music Man
A nom de plume well met
His entire body dripped with soul
Made the gents groove, the ladies wet

He may have been just a pawn in life
For the kings and the queens of the city
But this one black pawn made moves so sweet
It made the world feel less gritty

His life may have not been much
At each turn he came after the white man
But he cared nothing for all that jazz
He was happy with his axe, his girl, and his van

Now the kings and queens of the city
They cared or knew little of pawns
So when a hit needed to be taken
A random one was called on

So it was in this war
A black pawn did fall
And another pawn did shatter
At the sound of her dying call

Now love is a wonderful thing
It makes light and it gives life
But a true love snatched away
Gives a peaceful man a knife

And so a pawn did take a knight
And then a castle and a rook
While the kings and queens did gawk
He played by hook or crook

Till that fateful day when they met
A black pawn and the king he did hate
And came those fateful words
First check, and then mate

GloPoWriMo: Day XI: How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?

A challenging and interesting prompt from NaPoWriMo today – to write a ‘Bop’.

While I’ve heard of Bops I’ve never actually experienced one, so I may be way off with this (particulary its written to a rhythm heard only in my head)… but here goes nothing…

Her crazy eyes and crazier demeanor
Hide a funny, querky, simple girl
She dances like there’s no one ever watching
Though secretly she’s scared of the world
You wont keep up if you ever tried to
But if you’re brave go give it a whirl

Oh how do you solve a problem like Maria
That girl is as wild as they come
How do you solve a problem like Maria
As free as the ever setting sun

Now here’s the real problem with Maria
She’s ever so present and kind
The very real problem with Maria
Is that I really really want to make her mine
A simple fool of 20 and a few years
I never ever did think I had a shot
To find a girl as wonderful and daring
But if she’s the net then I am surely caught

Oh how do you solve a problem like Maria
That girl is as wild as they come
How do you solve a problem like Maria
As free as the ever setting sun

Now if you’re actually interested in this story
I’ll tell you the most surprising part
This simple, querky, funny girl Maria
Seems she also liked me from the start
So maybe I should give up solving problems
And for once just listen to my heart

Oh, you dont solve a problem like Maria
That girl who is as wild as they come
I think I like this problem called Maria
Beautiful as the setting sun

 GloPoWriMo: Day IX: ‘9’

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt-ed poem goes out to a special fraulein out there. You broke my heart. But I’ll always love you : )

Will you be my eternal love
Will you keep my heart safely
Will you always make it all fine
Will you wake up next to me
Will you always be truthful
Will you hold your self against mine
Will you hold my hand
Will you let me love you forever
She just smiled and she said nein

GloPoWriMo: Day VII: The Many Reflections of “Us”

What are we, you and I?
After all we do and say
Together and apart
Let me count the ways

I
Strangers once
From different worlds
Brought together by chance

II
Acquaintances too
Who exchanged pleasantries
And the occasional furtive glance

III
Friends at last
Though longing more
Open with heart and soul

IV
Lovers at last
After many moons
Two that became one whole

V
Friends again
Being pulled apart
By impending separation

VI
Acquaintances at best
Losing touch
With that long lost elation

VII
Strangers in the end
Disconnected
From what was once so key

What are we, you and I?
And what will we be?

Once Bitten

Once bitten, twice shy
Twice bitten
Should I ask why?

Too much, yet not enough
But close enough
To feel, to touch

Almost there, but not quite
Not quite all
But always right?

Everything, yet no thing at all
Some kind of thing
Known not what to call

Uncertain, confused
Offered
But refused

Once bitten, twice shy
Twice bitten
Wish I knew why

Thodi Shayarin

Teri mohabbat ka ye
Saroor hai
Ki mera pyaar,
Tere hoton se dur hai

Main jitna chahun
Na badal sakun,
Tera dil, mere dil
Se masroof hai

Maine chaha tha bohat
Tujhne apna banana

Par is duniya ne banaya
Mujhe be-mansoor hai

Teri mohabbat ka ye
Saroor hai
Ki mera pyaar tere hoton
Se dur hai

Chahun bhi to
Na jit paun
Mera inaam mere haton
Se bada dur hai

Teri mohabbat ka ye
Saroor hai
Ki meta pyaar tere hoton
Se dur hai

A Four Letter Word – Day XVII – NaPoWriMo 2014

What have I learnt
From stories of love, seen or heard?
I have learnt only this
That I have learnt nothing
Nor should I have

I have watched every comedy play out
Every tragedy fade away
Every grief or hilarious happenstance
And they are all familiar
Yet completely alien

In truth I will never have
A “meet cute” or “double take”
I will never find myself
In a game of mistaken identity
Nor be a cirano

For love, real love
Is formless and unpredictable
It is undefinable and indistinguishable
From the rest of life
Or so it seems

Or maybe this too
Is a lesson learnt
Where it should not have
Maybe love does not exist
Maybe it never did

If life is nothing
But a search for the answer
To this unasked question
Is the winner he who answers?
Or he who needs not to?

Angels with Dirty Faces – Day III – NaPoWriMo 2014

Through dusty fields they fly
Nothing above but the sky
Nothing below but the earth
Nothing ahead but home and hearth

Free and light
Without burden or blight
Without care or chagrin
Without mortal sin

Never hidden nor disguised
Far younger than wise
Bashful, beautiful and true
Like a foal born new

Melting hearts with their smiles
A hand in yours all the while
Held with loving admiration
Free of judging contemplation

Shy and soft spoken
With spirits never broken
They steal my heart
Every time I part

Beauty beyond that seen
Perceived to be unclean
Yet gorgeous in virtue and vision
Free of society’s image prison

They wave goodbye
Bringing tear to eye
Of all creeds and faiths and races
Those angels with dirty faces

It Comes In All Forms

Well ‘Gay Paris’ may have not brought new love, but it did bring new inspiration. It’s nice to pen down a poem, having not done so in a while. And while many posts shall follow chronicling the euro-trip I am currently on with my best friend Chirag, here’s a little taste from the city of lovers…

It Comes In All Forms

 

O’er gilded fields and mountains tall
In the land of ale and drinking halls
Lived maiden beautiful as the fall
This maiden the boy did love

The boy of two lands and yet of none
Who’d sip life’s nectar till the day was done
Who’d sing of battles lost and won
Feared losing maiden all above

Though she smiled when he played the fool
And held him close when the air was cool
And for her he’d break all rules
Her hand he could not hold

She said he held place close to heart
And teared every time they did part
And loved him now, though not at the start
Yet his passion was too bold

But before you think this a story of woe
And let seeds of pity or sorrow sow
And say “oh isn’t it always so”
Let me put your mind at ease

For love comes in this life in all manner of forms
Hearts may be broken but they are also warmed
Fools and lovers every minute are born
True love’s obstacles do not cease

An open heart will always feel pain
And might crack and break again and again
But the ache is felt not in vain
For a closed heart feels no bliss

So if you find love hold on tight
It never is wrong though not always right
If its worth the win its worth the fight
And in the end all that matters is this

That a boy loves a girl

The Grandfather Tree

On a grassy patch in a mild meadow
Under the sun of a different age
Grew a tree with slender branches
And the wisdom of a sage

As a young boy for many years
It’s gentle shade was home to me
This is the tale
Of the Grandfather Tree

This mighty Ent stood proud
For many years and years beyond
It was kind and it was friendly
And of me it grew most fond

I held its branches for support
I nestled in its roots
I was protected by its canopy
I was fed by its fruit

But years are kind to none
And soon life dries and ebbs
The Grandfather Tree grew haggard
Its branches covered in webs

I felt too tall for its shade
So I set forth to see what else
The world had to offer
And I came back less and less

But it’s love for me never lessened
Though its branches did shrivel and weaken
It still smiled to see me return
Return to its outstretched beacon

But the body is not as strong
As the soul or the heart
And finally last night
Fair tree and I did part

It closed its eyes in silence
While I was in a foreign land
Cursing cruel fate that kept me in the end
From holding his hand

So now our tale ends
This tale most dear to me
The bittersweet tale
Of the Grandfather Tree