I first saw you as a stranger in my favourite cafe. Sipping coffee unaware of pair of eyes taking glimpse of you from time to time.
You love to carry books around you. Sometimes one, sometimes two.
For two years, I settled myself being contented of seeing you everyday sipping coffee and reading books.
For two years, I never got the courage to tell you that I love the way your lips move when you read.
For two years, I silently laughed with you whenever you started cackling, first a muffled sound until you burst into laughing. And realizes you're surrounded by people, you blushed ranting so many apologies.
For two years everything seems okay but not today. You came in bearing a heavy heart, suddenly the cafe seems crowded and suffocating. Your eyes wandered around and stopped when it meets mine.
"Of all the sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: 'It might have been'." You dropped a note, confused, I search an answer in your eyes.
"That's John Greenleaf Whittier's words not mine." You said and left, but came back crying "It might have been you I'm going to marry tomorrow if you just had the courage to tell me of what you feel!"
I smiled sadly, slowly moving my hands creating signs I'm sure you don't understand for creases slowly appearing in your forehead.
"I love you, but I was afraid you will not like me, I'm not capable of talking." A tenderhearted old woman translated my hand gestures to you.
On coffees, books and regrets, the cafe was my cosmos, my very own universe, pretending stars are beautifully aligned just for you and me.
The unwavering pain trying to manipulate my heart. For the first time I felt like my heart is as gigantic as the universe. There's too little space in my ribcage for it to fit in. I can't breathe. I wonder how a picture can hurt you so much. How your occupied mind turns blank in an instance, or how those blissful thoughts can be clouded with nothing but what if's or how I wish it was me. How the movement of his lips trying to create words, words which you want and not want to hear at the same time. I wonder how this all work hand in hand to create havoc in my mind. And here goes my heart beating normally but still I can't breathe. Love heals. Love destroys. It can be a salvific song for the heart or its deity of agony.
Recreate a poem by keeping the starting line and ending line the same as the original poem but change the body of the poem, and the twist is your recreated poem should be contrasting with the original one.
Here's an example:
The original poem
By Henry Scott-Holland
Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
_________________________________________________ If you feel like making your own recreation poem, used this hashtag so I can read your piece #recreation_poem
I walked through the welcoming viridity, my feet dancing with the grass. Such a beautiful day it is, I never felt so alive. Yesterday it rained so hard giving enough water to all living green around my lawn. The soothing redolence of my favourite daisies are like the personal perfume of my humble abode. Mom was right, having plants around you can make your every morning blissful. And speaking of mom, I need to visit her! Oh! Road trip in the countryside is going to be fun. I prepare in haste not wanting every second gone to waste. Soon enough, I'm already in the middle of the road. I open my car's roof, oh, how I miss this, the wind caressing my skin. The road runs along the shoreline and from my spot I can clearly see the glistening blue sea. Of course, beach! Why did I forgot about it, I won't return home not until my soul get connected with the cold blue waters. I can now picture myself in bikini running in the white sand, I giggled with the thought. I turned on my car's radio, roadtrip and music that's inseparable, and I couldn't get any luckier as my favourite song came into play "stuck with you" I sing along and forgot how many songs I had sang until I finally arrived at my parent's small bungalow house. I wandered my eyes around the place, it seems like I wasn't even gone for years, everything was the same and it feels so good to be back at my favourite place. I peeked through the left side part of the house and found my treehouse standing proudly as if waiting for my arrival. I smiled as the flood of memories played in my head like a movie. "There you are! Welcome home sweetheart, how was your trip?" My mom asked as she hugged me. "It was so amazing mom!" I giggled. "Okay, why don't you come in, your father is so excited to see you but is pretending that he don't, you know that old man, so many dramas in life." I laughed with my mom's dialogue. "Leave it to me mom, I'll make him confess" I wink at her and run my way inside the house. There I saw my father reading a newspaper. "So, does this mean you haven't missed your favourite daughter that you can't put away your newspaper?" My father gave me a blank look "This is a must read, climate change had affected many lives drastically." "Oh, really dad? I wonder how you manage to read it when it's upside down." He checked the newspaper and started laughing "Okay, you got me."
I spend my whole week in my parents territory. I had done so many things and now it's time to go home. Mom gave me bundles of fresh fruits and vegetables fresh from the garden. I arrived at my house exhausted yet happy. I went directly to my room, rummaging through my drawer looking for my special friend, I smiled when I saw what I've been looking for, my diary.
"Mom! Mom!" I panicked when I saw my daughter running while calling my name. "What is it sweetheart? Are you okay? Anything wrong? Are you hurt?" I bombarded her with questions when she finally came close to me and she just smile. "Nothing wrong mom, in fact I have something to tell you, and I'm pretty sure you'll love it!" My nine year old Katherina so giddy that I can't help not to smile. "Okay, spill it." "So, I've been thinking, why not we go to the beach? Or the farm where we can see fresh vegetables and fruits? And mom! Have you seen a tree house? How does it look like? You know we can visit those places. I promise, I'll be good with my studies, let's just visit those places. Pretty please?" My smile vanished upon hearing my daughter's words. "Where did you get those ideas?" I asked her sternly. "Here!" She was waving in her hand my mom's diary. I sighed, why I haven't kept it properly. "Look little one, we can't go to those places anymore" Her expression changes her eyes telling me she's confused. "Those places doesn't exist anymore. Look around you, every thing is made up of steel, we're surrounded by machines that even most of our trees are artificials, only few survived." "But why mom? Why did this happened?" I cupped her face feeling sorry for her, I stared at her eyes "Humans existed, that's what happened. We had ruined the once Beautiful Earth."
In the world full of voices there's nothing to hear except the tyrant scowling of my Aunt Mayling.
Sometimes I thought it's my mother's lullabies that I hear. But by every clamor of her hand when it touches my already bruised skin, I'm reminded, I'm trapped in the den of lion, any moment, she'll devour me.
I saw the most beautiful woman, my mom reaching out to me. But when the decorated string in my neck tightened its grip, I saw Aunt Mayling's devilish grin.
Yet again, I recall, mom is a thousand miles away, she's not here to save me. But as the hard wood kissed my body, I see angels singing, their lovely voices bringing me closer to mom, my mom who worked all day and night that seems perturbed yet hopeful, knowing money at the end of the month will land in her hand and with giddy heart, she'll send it all to Aunt Mayling saying, please bear with my son, he's a bit shy but trust me he's very kind.
I wanted to close my eyes, for I feel like the clouds seems to be settling in my feet. And mom appears to be a goddess wearing the wreath I dreamt of gifting her.
I smiled, knowing there's no need for me to wait, mom's head is ornamented with wreath made of hope, I don't want to take it from her, but I can't hold on anymore. My little body, can't hold on anymore. As my head beautifed with wreath of agony and suffering, that I can no longer distinguish reality from dream.
It's always like this, I see mom, carrying me in her arms with all the love the world can offer, but I also feel aunt Mayling's wrath, as her heavy hand tortured me.
I wrote this as my heart was broke to pieces last night watching the news about a seven year old boy tortured to death by his auntie. His mother is working abroad hoping she can give better life to his son through money but it turns out it brought him to death instead.
And the most unacceptable fact is that, the auntie claiming she loved the boy and the death of the boy was suicide.
The boy was seen lifeless sitting on the floor while a string was tied in his neck.
I don't believe a seven year old can think of suicide. Children are innocent that taking their own life is impossible to cross their mind.
Besides, the bruises in his body, tells a different story.
My pen pierces primrose thorns on the fragile skin bleeding the paper in blue blood as I stitch my emotions splashed with grey waters in between the lines wailing sirens of hopelessness, words are too heavy chewing lemongrass which I plucked from the fields of heartbreak to create a concrete mixture with metaphors brewing in oak barrels behind my mind at high flames of despair cascading into a martini of poisonous poetry, burnt heart soaked in beeswax candles adds kerosene to the mulberry hopes of an everlasting love and gold pink dreams dipped in whirlpool of lies hung on the branches of my wet eyelashes igniting a wildfire in my scarlet soul, leaking liquid from a cracked bottle of my frozen heart baths my midnight into your muse with the shrill violins of my tears and I shimmer my pain in the silvery waves of moonlight.
They say home is where the heart is, but the callow heart resides only in people and places, not in materialistic things, they are just reminders to check up on the home and see if it's still inhabitable, for sometimes we don't even realise how hostile the environment becomes and so how much ever we try and cling onto it, changing our residency becomes a necessity. The little things that remind us about the happy moments spent, are precious gifts we should always cherish.
Taped boxes from the attic finally saw sunlight after an eternity, it seemed. It was time to bid the dust a bittersweet goodbye and let it find abode in someone else's dormancy.
Under the shade of the mango tree, with the wind breezing so softly, it seemed a good enough place to relieve some sweet memories.
Nostalgia hit like a thunderstorm when my eyes landed on the bundle of papers wrapped with a single thread of hope, it was time to see whether it was still strong or had become mere porcelain. Greeting cards, letters, papers with names and lyrics scribbled, a few chocolate wrappers tucked in here and there; is this what adrenaline rush used to be back then? My lips involuntarily formed the widest curve and eyes twinkled like the far away star, as my hand roamed all over the faded letters, just a smidge delicately. The cadbury wrappers still held the fragrance of a child's innocence and a teenager's romance, and the reminiscent taste still lingered on the edges of the gold foil, pressed gently among the clouds so heavy.
The sudden chirping of some unrecognizable bird swayed away my attention and focused it on the fluent fluttering of the greenery up above, and as the zephyr embraced me with the care of a mother my eyes became moist with emotions. Somehow it felt utterly soothing, and all my troubles seemed so trivial in that instant, as if I was a butterfly sucking nectar from the sweetest flower, without a care in the world.
In the corner of one box was a small frame with two little figures, smiling at each other, "Bestfriends Forever" was engraved in deep blue colour. Dreams were so big, and imagination without limits, how simple were our wishes.
Dusk arrived without a notice and a small realisation made it's presence felt; how time passes away like a small wave, when it's the only thing you crave. Aren't we all great artists, when it comes to collecting memories? Myriads of souvenirs were scattered across, and each one as saccharine and light as a candy floss.
I felt a smile within my heart, as I realised I had gathered such precious art.
Somehow I still remember you and me sitting along the benches of the green garden when the sun shined gray and your smile meant happy. " You feel like pink skies on my grey days" You always said. Blushing with pink cheeks I always nodded. You held your palms over the pasty walls where the sun settled. The rays followed a pattern of criss cross your hands made. You placed my hand over your. It felt warm . "It always feels good" . With you beside it always did ,I smiled. You picked a flower and tucked it under my hairs. You are my one beautiful flower you sang. I gazed a look at you and knew that was how love was supposed to feel.
You always seemed like a dusk searching for its a pink skies. Serene , like a reading a book while its rain along the foggy windows and warm drinks. When you clicked opened the door your presence smelled home to me. A home I cherished no matter what. You always felt right ,to the body,to the soul and all of me that had you.
It was the kitchen floors that rattled when we fought for our growing difference. You wanted something else while I only wanted you. The utensils where the witness to the sobs that night. You are the sound that my heart heard when you walked away last night , you are also the silence you left behind. To the growing footsteps you left a hallow hope behind. A hope I sniff for in the crowd of people searching love with their nose blocked.
I carry you every where like a scent you left behind around the empty home of sorrows and hope. I carry you especially to the memory lane that you and me forgot to burry underneath a coffin in the garden we found love. I look back at you and know how exactly love isn't supposed to be.
"how are you?" is a simple non malignant question, and no one thinks too much before saying 'i am fine.'
i find this question completely surreal, quixotic and way too intricate to answer in mere three words. my mind take things to the places in search of some treasury. hopeless i admit. but think about it. would anyone admit they are not so fine and open up to you when you ask so casually?
'i am ok, i think.'
has always been my answer. "i think" uncertainty. uncertainties are so beautiful in their own ways, to find a conclusion may not always be the solution. sometimes you can also find completeness in incompleteness.
you don't have to perfect, it's absurdity anyway. perfection kills creativity and creativity leads to inventions. perfection drops you in the abyss of nihility, there is nothing beyond it.
so yeah, may be i am not so ok or maybe i can be and choose not be ok. but you know what; i am completely ok to be un(ok).
///oh and yea one more thing. i am sorry i do not write saga of heartbreak or stupid love stories, you all could connect to. but guys come on don't you think love is overrated? love is not life, life is life.///
perhaps the clouds are nothing but industrial smoke and i am just reliving the memories of yours perhaps there will be ashes instead of rains and it will fall upon my eyes to hide my tears like the beeping of machine gives me trauma and one wrong word could've fused my life together
your face was like the respite in the calmness , you were laying in the serine air bubble surrounding a raging storm with your eyebrows knitted together and the corner of your lips down turned into your eyes from your frown. your eyes closed...they were closed. i could feel my heartbeat pacing against my ribs. i kept enchanting 'he's going to be fine' almost convincing myself. i was silently praying that you would open your eyes soon and i would again see those chocolate brown specks of light. i forthwith felt a tap on my left shoulder, as i turned around i was encountered with your doctor's face. i knew that, 'oh you poor kid' look. he was pitying me. but why? why would he look at me like that? when i was about to question, he abruptly said
"i am sorry...it's too late, i wish he was diagnosed a bit earlier."
i remember the inadmissible feeling i had after i heard his words. it felt like i was the one dying. it was coherent though because i researched a lot about it, brain tumour; a cancerous or non-cancerous mass or growth of abnormal cells in the brain. tumours can start in the brain, or cancer elsewhere in the body can spread to the brain. i wanted to save me by saving you. too late he said, it wasn't easy to register his statement completely into my brains. the lump in my throat was arduous to swallow. something was sinking inside my chest.
i did not expect you to stay i was a sin, kept you far from sainthood even so, it was pleasant to imagine a future by moonlight with a cobalt blue glow in you matching the shoreline of luminous creatures you carried my turmoil with you when you sang your lullaby of departure
i couldn't give up on you, i wasn't audacious enough, for i didn't know any home other than your side. i wanted to believe in God for the first time in my life. i wanted to find out if i could pause time on every single memory and every picture we clicked, looking like naive fellows in love. when everything was one heartbeat away from being heartbroken, you said the words i condemned to hear, your last words were -
"i love you. always had, always will. i will read you from there. just keep looking at my way time to time."
someone once asked me, "how do you feel when you lose the person you love the most?" i couldn't answer then, but i have an answer now. when you lose the person you love the most you become incompetent of feeling anything at all.
i don't prefer calling and i certainly don't waste good paper to write maybe i can get my name change in afterlife forfeit i can cease myself askin' for few years the siren would not keep me awake at night & they told me that i can't outrun my issues but let me try just this once
Beyond the silence of the Universe, there lies a void of deep innocence. I believe although it's already vast, it has the very profound essence. The knowledge I adore, is strongly substantial. Freedom of expression is the key to be liberal. The enormous creatures are towards a havoc. To nurture the nature is the only way to stop.
The untold stories of the silenced sleepless nights. Very less it could find its own right. Unexpressed feelings growing beneath the coldness of the Earth. There is a lot of unfulfilled needs, so it remains with a touch of dearth. Endless hope to illuminate the dark World with a vision. To brighten up the nature with a vivid colorful fusion.
Knocking the doors of the unseen truth where the tides rise, the tides fall. Galaxies adorned with the myriad of Stars, the morning breaks and the Cuckoo calls. Wandering in search of the unknown reality. Can I catch a glimpse of the pure serenity? I rise, I fall; even lost in the void but then my life echoed and I realized; Life is a gift, there is a peace within it. Embrace each and every moment till eternity. May the Universe flow in the "Ocean Of Tranquillity".