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15:58 Sep 27 2016
Times Read: 313




TO WHOM I CAN BELONG MORE THAN ONCE



I can tell you how it rains on a summer day

and make you feel it fall on your window pane--

I--your woman, a poet--have such powers.







I can make you unbolt your door, wait for me

when I say I have finished my day’s work, I need rest--

I -- your woman, a poet -- a thousand miles apart.







I can give you heaven on an average day, even

when I talk to you about the life that doesn’t love us--

I -- your woman , a poet -- calm you in your nights.







I can write for you alone, on a wordless universe

and make you feel my god, to whom I can belong more than once--

I -- your woman , a poet -- can make you immortal with a song.



Lekshmy Sujathan Kerala, India 2003

I love Shakespeare.
05:58 Sep 27 2016
Times Read: 328

SONNET XXVI



Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage

Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,

To thee I send this written embassage,

To witness duty, not to show my wit:

Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine

May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,

But that I hope some good conceit of thine

In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it;

Till whatsoever star that guides my moving

Points on me graciously with fair aspect

And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving,

To show me worthy of thy sweet respect:

Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;

Till then not show my head where thou mayst prove me.

The broken little vase.
14:05 Sep 20 2016
Times Read: 365

Shattered glass upon the floor,

That's all I'll ever be.

Don't try to fix or pick me up,

It's just too late for me.

I never was a lovely thing,

I never did impress.

I am always what I've always been,

A hopeless, shattered mess.

I never was a charmer,

And I never had much class.

And the only thing men ever wanted me for,

Was my ass.

I never had much talent,

Though I do possess a few.

They're not very useful talents,

And they're all that I can do.

I have far too much love to give,

It always gets me hurt.

And even my own father,

Left me laying in the dirt.

So before you think to pick me up,

And put me back together.

Just be careful with the pieces,

Or you'll shatter me forever.

I want to make a memory.
15:44 Sep 12 2016
Times Read: 380

Write on my skin with your fingertips,

that poetry you keep all to yourself.

Display it upon my skin as if I were your own shaky, sweaty, sticky masterpiece.

Discover my curves, my crevices. Feel them quiver.

Break me down and tear me open until you know more of me than I know myself.

I know you won't remember it.

But that part doesn't matter.

You won't feel the electrical current that flows through me when you brush your mouth along my shoulder.

And you won't feel how good it feels to me when you decide to sink your teeth gently into it.

You won't know of the momentary heaven that you create for me to live in.

You won't know, you won't remember it.

But I will.

And every time I see your face in my mind I will feel your touch, your teeth, your desire.

Every time I hear that song you're playing as we melt.

And every time I do, I will remember.

Soft sheets and warm lips, hot bodies and traded sweat.

Fingertips making a masterpiece.

It doesn't matter that you won't remember because I will.

And that memory, that glorious memory, will burn like fire within me 'till it was so long ago I cannot remember your face.

And that is what I want. I want to make a memory.

Today is not a good day.
11:09 Sep 01 2016
Times Read: 419

Wander through the darkness,

Don't know where it leads,

Wish that I could find a way,

To sate these aching needs.

Will I ever find him?

Only god can know.

And even if I did,

Would he just choose to let me go?

Today is not a good day,

I'm frustrated and forlorn.

As to whether I can still go on,

I am completely torn.

I wish I knew the future,

For I'm running out of rope.

And don't know how long it will be,

Till I'm devoid of hope.