The Abandoned Poetry

A considerable amount of time had passed,

yet the pungent smell of oil continued to linger,

The spiders continued to colonise in the same corners of the room.

 

The lady by the dressing had not picked her pearls yet;

Draped in violet ash, she waited by another frame.

In this room of naked indifference,

No one seem to mind his presence,

or express any form of acknowledgment.

 

He inched thru this room full of stories and love,

He lay his coffee mug next to the wine glass and the bowl of fruits,

The stains on the expensive veneer indicated that it had been extensively and carelessly used.

 

Straight ahead he could see a rainbow arch over the bridge;

It had always been under construction-

The end colours of the rainbow had leaked into the sky,

to immaturely announce the climax of the day.

 

In comparison, the city streets were suspiciously bare and bleached,

Like the streets of Tokyo-

narrow, unexplained, and made for people who know where they were headed.

 

He walked ahead, to find old photographs from the wedding lay scattered on the ground,

He was grateful for the termites to have rerouted the path for their daily commute.
As though to respect the memory it captured-

He picked them up from the floor and smiled at how deliberate and obvious the connection now seemed.

 

A housefly buzzed to finally acknowledge his arrival,

the smell of coffee may have responsible for this grace,

He would have clapped it dead, but instead he asked it to quiet down.

and escorted himself to a stool.

 

She sat right in front of him,

He took a moment to breathe in such a beautiful possibility,

she was the most charming piece of poetry he had come across.

 

He folded his shirt as to allow his acrobatic arms to move freely,

He Spurt out the black oil from the tube to carefully line her eyes,

For this would not be like the other paintings in the room,

Abandoned.

 

By Sonia Agarwal

All Grown Up

I stood in the middle of my big room,

In my jellyfish pyjamas-

Lost in the shades of grey,

Uncertain of the source of my uneasiness-

with no wise words for myself.

 

Distancing from my thoughts,

I shut my eyes in surrender.

As I suddenly threw my head back,

I felt the world slide off my mind.

 

My uninstructed arms stretched out;

As though embracing freedom for the first time.

The rays of the setting sun filtered into the room thru my sheers.

My shut eyes seem to enjoy its presence.

For a moment it had all come to a pause.

 

Possessed by the simplicity of the moment,

My heels lifted off the floor;

Although alerted-my mind let it go.

 

I smiled, as I swirled on my toes,

As though acknowledging my childishness.

In complete sync from my head to toe.

I felt so complete and happy;

knowing that a part of me will never grow up.

 

By Sonia Agarwal

Stardust

Today as I looked up at the night sky-

It felt more mine than ever.

As I peered into the familiar starless sky,

My eyes twinkled at my passing thoughts.

 

The sky above, one that I had segregated from my land below,

Somehow felt one today.

The air was comforting and inspiring.

 

There was so little that I knew, that I know

that we know-

For most of us have compromised on knowing.

 

I wish I could stretch my arms and reach out,

but I would not know what I’d be reaching out for.

May be there was nothing to touch, nothing to see or feel,

but something to acknowledge simply.

 

My mind struggled with pieces from far too many puzzles

Each one configuring the universe differently.

It is said that we are nothing but stardust,

a concept much favoured by writers, physicists and certainly me.

 

But how could I view the container, that contained me too.

How could I witness the universe shine before my eyes, and be part of it too.

I no longer looked at the sky for answers,

For somehow I felt part of the grand design.

 

We certainly do belong to this universe,

but a part of the universe belongs with you and me.

And as I awed the sky tonight,

It seemed full of life and dreams,

For may be someone from another world was wishing on me.

By Sonia Agarwal

Inspired by Carl Sagan. 

The Odd Hour

I fold up the lace curtains,

Enough to see the streetlights flicker, in the wait for the sun,

An hour hypnotized by an odd mix of stale freshness,

Torn between the two planetary worlds.

 

I sat on my bed, with my feet on the titled marble,

In stark emptiness, with a mind full of thoughts.

It was so quiet, yet the loudest hour of my day.

I looked at the clock- it was still hours before I’d start my day.

 

I tried to put myself to bed, with my lights shut down,

Hoping to R.E.M myself to darkness,

But my head juggled thoughts and images

That I simply didn’t wish to pursue,

There was so much to be pondered over,

There was so much to learn, so much to do,

So much noise- for no other than myself.

 

I shuffled in bed, hoping to find a spot that would kiss me to sleep,

Restless,

I reached out for the jug of water, quenched,

I lay in bed, gazing at the street light that was now competing with the rising sun.

 

I saw the guards wake up to pretend like they had been up all night,

The dogs barked at their ghastly act;

Only to be bribed by a generous bowlof milk.

 

The odd hour had passed,

The fresh air was settling in,

The sun was at the horizon,

It was morning, I could wake up now.

 

 

By

Sonia Agarwal

Life in Infinity

I wish I could live the life I am living

& Another couple too.

I wish I could do this, and that and everything

Everything, there was to do.

                                   

I would curate all the world of experiences,

And live a hundred lives.

 

I’d be a scientist with a world left to discover and invent.

I’d be a spy with a ninja life.

I’d be a teacher on a remote farm, spelling off my worth.

I’d write books, poems, papers and policies for my world.

I’d travel to every town, to enjoy what the locals do.

 

I’d be a runner, who runs for the finish line, to only start again.

I’d be working for Walt Disney & Channel,

I’d be an artist to get inspired by what many had not looked at again.

 

I’d be an astronaut with no gravity binding me to this world.  

& be a excavator unraveling the mysteries of the past.

I’d be a in the amazon forests, the snow caps,

I’d be a photographer allowed to witness the tiger sleep.

I’d climb to the highest peak, to view this world in a manner only a few have.

 

I’d be the lady with the flower shop, with taste and wisdom.

I’d be the lady banker, with long legs that knows her walk too well.

and the chef with love for smiles and senses.

I’d be a leader, a person with a job an many more to provide.

I’d start my own company and watch it grow in size,

I’d wonder, just like I do now.

 

The world of endless possibilities now seem more defined,

Defined with choices and decisions, of which some were mine.

Verdict: I get to only live the life I do

At the opportunity cost of the many lives I wanted to.

 

 By Sonia Agarwal

 

The Winter Evening

 

I could feel it breathe close to my breath.

 

Gliding on the frozen lake by the town hall,

It felt like a childish hour had come along.

Swinging my arms to welcome that winter evening,

I smiled and laughed and looked so happy.

 

Cold now, I could hear my own laugh ringing in my head,

Numb, I could still feel the joy of sliding over the new patch of ice I had discovered.

My blades mounting the creased snow on the two sides.

Marking the silhouette of my dance.

The heat of my blades had formed a thin film from the wet air.

 

Darkness. Shrill Pain. Banishing cold.

As I fell through the very ground that I had known to be so heavenly,

My mind flashed mere jigsaw pieces to an incomplete puzzle.

It had gotten so quiet- that I was forced to hear the noise in my head.

 

I wanted to pull myself out of that-

And hide myself in the brightness of the sun;

And lay there as long as it would take

for it to all melt away-

 

I could feel a breath closer to my breath,

And slowly, very slowly there came around a blurry face.

This winter was cold, infact colder than I had ever known it to be.

Yearning for the warmness of my baby blanket

I decided to wait for the spring to come around-

When the ice on the lake would be gone

And no would remember of that winter evening, except me.

 

I had loved to skate, just glide along life freely,

But now, more brittle, more experienced, more cautious,

I knew I’d never be able to skate my heart out again. 

For this cold evening I wish to forget, I only remember so vividly. 

 

By Sonia Agarwal’13

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The Exploding Sun

The sun was creasing low-

I stood on the sand sinking too-

Dejected at its choice to steal away the hues from my sky-

And return to a world that seemed easier, command driven and less intimate.

 

Each hour, I watched the sun dip lower,

Yet I failed to detach myself from it.

I didn’t expect it to stay, but I wish it didn’t decide to leave.

 

In a stunt moment of honesty it was gone,

Leaving the turf dark, cold and with little light.

 

It is said that if the sun were to explode, it would take eight minutes for one to know of this explosion on Earth.

I long waited for the dawn, hoping for my skies to find its hues again

May be it revisits my world- out of care, respect or even curtsy.

 

I waited in the dark,

Stolid and cold, 

A cry, a throb, pounding pain-

I knew that my eight minutes had lapsed. 

 

-Sonia Agarwal’13

 

 

 

 

One Day

 

One day, I will have the pieces to my world.

With the colour of my choice, in the shape of my heart.

One day, I will have few words that will do more.

One day, I’ll have a world of my own.

Made with pieces of my spirit that was once free

One day, I will live in a world that I make for me.

 

One day, my parents will beam in genuine pride,

One day, I will know my friends who I can count on my side.

One day, I shall smile, so brightly, that everything else smiles too

One day, I will have the freedom of choice

freedom to choose the pieces to my world, to make it mine and more complete.

 

One day, sure could be today;

but freedom is less understood, yet spoken about too freely.

” I need to be free”-“I wish to be free”-

I may even have courage to be so-

But freedom comes with time and a price- that only a few can afford.

 

But one day, I will have the pieces to my world-

Its a day I work for, each day-

I’ll be blessed with a freedom of choice, that I am told I always have-

It be a day of freedom, for which I would be able to pay.

 

By Sonia Agarwal

For the first time

It wasn’t for the world to see,

It didn’t source from another being,

It wasn’t big, broad and white,

It was neither loud nor “right”.

 

Just enough to make her skin glow,

Genuine, only for her heart to know.

Shining through her eyes, creasing her wrinkled brow.

 

She had followed no religion, flagged no mountains,

She hadn’t won any fights, or any crowds.

She had done nothing off the ordinary.

For her warm skin to rose-

 

But In that moment of careless bliss,

A sonnet, for the first time in all,

I saw her smile, like she had never before.

 

By Sonia Agarwal

PING!

 

I saw a man hunch over his laptop,

With his eyes fixed on his 13”  screen.

Blinking his dry eyes, scratching his splitting hair,

His fingers scavenging in the empty tin- hoping to find something there.

 

A phone went ringing;

It could be his morning alarm from the day before. 

He pulled out a blackberry, and soon after his iphone.

 

Hundreds of unread mails and texts, 

With things on his to-do list, he knew he would never check. 

Calls from dear ones, he wish he hadn’t missed. 

 A new message, a “meeting request”.

 

 Knowing it was necessary; He wondered, where could he fit this in? 

Striking off sleep, “Lets chat at 9:40pm PST.” he said.

Overwhelmed, a little worn out, 

He had a lot going on right now. 

 

It was a path he had chosen for himself. 

Self-made, with words of gold; 

With little or no time for anything else;

He clung to the vision in his head. 

 

I looked at him with concern and awe,

For he was more than what people knew him to be, 

A man of his words, and a boy of a kind,

A little goof ball, a little shy, a little crazy at times.

 

A phone went ringing, 

But he didn’t move or blink, 

With eyes fixed on his 13″ screen, 

He knew what he was doing. 

 

Louder now, it was my phone that continued to ping. 

A new message, 

“Requesting a meeting”. 

 

By Sonia Agarwal