I Am Done

Starting from scratch
Yet again!
Why do I keep
Falling back to zero?
Was so far ahead
So quick that
They told me
I was a hero.

There perhaps
Oh God!
Is something
You want me to know.
I only wish
You’d use
A kinder way
Than pushing me so low.

Each time
I looked back
Connected the dots
And dug something wise.
But this time
Let me stay
A little longer
If I reach new highs.

Falling down
Getting up and
Clawing my way out
Used to be fun.
Give me back
My peace now
I surrender
I think I am done.
© Sundaram Chauhan

Movies

I loved watching movies so much

that I started reading the books they were based on.

Now, I don’t watch movies anymore.

© Sundaram Chauhan

It Really Is Your Choice

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Some things will work

And many will not

But nothing will stir ’til

You budge from your spot

Don’t ever think that

The moment you blink

Some music will flow

Beer bottles will clink

You’ve got to begin

Quit pondering anymore

The time is to act

To push open the door

You know you’re good

And that’s your true voice

It all depends on you

It really is your choice

Others come mocking

But who the hell are they?

This game is but yours

Alone you have to play

The doubts aren’t real

Afraid them you not

In walking the path itself

A treasure you’ve got

© Sundaram Chauhan

Does Anonymity Bring Freedom?

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Does anonymity give you more freedom in expressing your true thoughts? The wild, peculiar, never-tested-before ones you hear tapping the insides of your scull.

I think yes.

The other day a friend said to me, “For long I have been wanting to write about a few subjects that stir me inside, but since they are either too bold or too personal to reveal, I don’t go ahead.”

That means he has consciously put a filter right at the place where creativity originates. As a result, it will only leave out the ideas that are non-controversial, and safe to share – not necessarily the best ones.

That is not how imagination prospers. Things offend others all the time, so if there is something you truly believe in, don’t worry, give it words. If you have trouble doing that with your name flashing there, going anonymous will help immensely.

It’s known that people judge others after reading a piece of their writing. That happens a lot if your readers are the people you know in real life, and you write a lot about your personal life. Therefore, unless you put a lot of checks in place, you run the risk of divulging something that you ought not to.

If using your name is making you constantly conscious of your image, and impedes the process of thinking honestly, you will produce a work less in quality than your true potential promises.

I am not promoting anonymity if you can write without being troubled by what others would think of you. If you can do that the debate is over.

People not afraid of anything while bringing forth the ideas they think are the best are doing justice to the art of writing.

But if you have to hide some and show some to be able to come up with something – best go anonymous and show it all. And, original ideas take courage to be brought out in the open. They are often first met with resistance and criticism.

So be courageous and write your heart out. Choose any of the ways but don’t hold anything inside. If it flows from your heart, it’ll make a good piece of writing, howsoever bold it might be.

© Sundaram Chauhan

Poisonous Fruits

The sweet

nourishing

juicy fruits

die a premature death.

Plucked away

brutally

in the peak

of their youth.

The poisonous ones

enjoy

an envious

longevity of life.

And die

only a natural death

close to their own

at the place of their birth.

© Sundaram Chauhan

Shoes

Me (irritated): Where the hell are my shoes?

Her (calm): I picked them up yesterday, and hid them somewhere.

Me (angry): What the f**k! Why would you do that?

Her (dramatic): Because that’s what I fantasise about all day. That you’ll come back, take off your sexy shoes, and go to washroom; and I’ll pounce on them undetected, and hide them at a place only I have access to. So that long after you’ve slept, I could just enjoy watching them make love to each other.

Me (terrified): I think I kept them under the sofa last night… I’ll go find them.

© Sundaram Chauhan

One Thousand Likes!

I came across one poem

That I didn’t quite like

A thousand others loved it

Troubled I went for a hike

 

It felt kind of pretentious

But it must be good

I confessed to myself

I never really understood

 

‘t wasn’t about one word

Or some queer sentence

Could make out nothing

True – not even once

 

It was all English

That much I knew

Was about a colour

Some darker shade of blue

 

Perhaps it was esoteric

Not really meant for me

But a thousand people got it!

How could that be?

 

I tried reading it over

One last time

Like hell it was good

It didn’t even rhyme

 

“Blank verse poem”

Shouted my dad

To not understand it

You’ve got to be mad

 

I knew what it was

I flashed him a stare

A ping on my phone

Announced I got a share

 

The ‘Thousand Likes’ poet

Liked one of mine

Shared it as well

Commented “so fine”

 

A smile on my face

I went back to write

The poetry I know

All fears took flight

 

Tiny Tale

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I pause
Stare hard
At screen with bleary eyes
It’s time
Let’s go!
Something inside me cries
I peep into the cabin
My boss is on the phone
My day is not yet over
I let out a groan
She knocks
Comes close
And hands over her work
I nod
Lips pursed
God, I am such a jerk!
I want to go
Along with her too
Her earrings are new
What am I going to do?
She spins
Glides out
Her fragrance still stays
I close
My eyes
My heart is ablaze
I hear her say bye
To everyone outside
Out of my league she is
I should’ve still tried
It’s been some days
My life is such
We talk sometimes
But nothing much
Today is the day
I thought I’d say
Something concrete
And clear up the way
But,
She has left
I am alone
A couple of hours gone
I rub my eyes
Stretch my back
Open my mouth to yawn
I shuffle across
the hall to my boss
A pat on my back
still feels like a loss
Elevator I take
Grab a burger and a cake
Wish I could sit
By the side of a lake
I reach my car
A heart with a scar
In sight is a tree
Beneath a faint star
Just then it glows
With a tremble and a tone
That’s her message!
Her message on my phone
I read it aloud
She wants to talk
There’s a bad news
She’s in some shock
The project she did
Was wrong, she cries
I never cared to check
My blood all dries
Head pounding hard
My eyes on the tree
I call up my boss
Just say it was me
I take all the flak
And then call her back
I state what I’ve done
She screams I’m a crack!
She says she is sorry
I say, that’s alright
She laughs and she talks
Right past midnight
Still dreaming of her
Not blinking at all
A small win this is, but
We’ve broken the wall.

© Sundaram Chauhan
(Image Source)

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