The windows were open
And the rain rushed joyfully
Into my room.
And with the wind it ravaged
My favourite bedside book ,
While I watched .
Ripping the pages,drenching them
While I sat,
Motionless.
Till it toppled over
An unrecognisable soggy mass.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Truth
There was once a little girl .With nothing of the pleasantness and sweetness you associate with them. There was something quite revolting about her appearance, that too long nose and the thin cruel lips , so unsuitable in a girl of her age. Nobody liked her and there was good reason for that, I admit. For just when you thought you had begun to be comfortable with her, on the verge of a reasonable conversation, she reached out with her jagged nails , which never failed to hurt ,and viciously dug them into your skin.
It isn’t right to be too harsh on her, and I suppose she was alright from a distance, it was just the personal encounters which were never pleasant. They left you with a bitter taste in the mouth and a general soreness of being, a feeling of your heart having been wrung. Yet when poets wrote copiously about her unearthly beauty everyone agreed. Of course ,of course ,they said, righteously nodding in unison ,we never thought of her as anything else. She had a name this girl, but I shan’t tell you for then along with hating her you might begin to hate yourself and I cant risk that.
In spite of her wild ways she wasn’t immune to the general resentment surrounding her and she considered curbing her manners, making the changes everyone wanted her to. It had to start with trimming those nails and uprooting her teeth. Training that sneer out of her lips and taming her hair to a natural shape. Once it was done everybody was pleased, they smiled and patted her on the back, congratulated her on a job well done.
But they couldn’t help thinking you know, of how things were still not alright.Of how much more monstrous she was now, how hideous and repulsive .They could come to no decision about which way they preferred her. I don’t think they ever will.
It isn’t right to be too harsh on her, and I suppose she was alright from a distance, it was just the personal encounters which were never pleasant. They left you with a bitter taste in the mouth and a general soreness of being, a feeling of your heart having been wrung. Yet when poets wrote copiously about her unearthly beauty everyone agreed. Of course ,of course ,they said, righteously nodding in unison ,we never thought of her as anything else. She had a name this girl, but I shan’t tell you for then along with hating her you might begin to hate yourself and I cant risk that.
In spite of her wild ways she wasn’t immune to the general resentment surrounding her and she considered curbing her manners, making the changes everyone wanted her to. It had to start with trimming those nails and uprooting her teeth. Training that sneer out of her lips and taming her hair to a natural shape. Once it was done everybody was pleased, they smiled and patted her on the back, congratulated her on a job well done.
But they couldn’t help thinking you know, of how things were still not alright.Of how much more monstrous she was now, how hideous and repulsive .They could come to no decision about which way they preferred her. I don’t think they ever will.
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