Out of place

In a storybook village

She sits by the river,

emerald blue water

melancholy song of the birds

its a dull day.

There are only dull days.

In this quaint little town

where nothing happens

she feels like she is living in a daze

in a beautiful but toxic maze.

Caught up in the monotony

unable to escape

unable to move.

It is unsettling, the perfect harmony.

She longs for a different life

one with the cacophony of the traffic

one with the sky-high buildings

one where the city comes alive at night.

She sighs.

In an overcrowded city

She sits in her small cubicle

overlooking the grey skies

She misses the fairytales and their lies

The printer keeps buzzing

as does her phone

The only quiet she finds is in the bathroom

People surround her, breathing in her space

From the second she wakes up,

Life feels like a race.

She longs for a quiet escape.

A hidden nook

Away from the noise and the movement.

Somewhere where life halts for a moment.

She sighs.

Both look at the sky

and wish for a different life.

 

 

© Sneha Pathak

 

Where do broken dreams go?

Where do broken dreams go?

Do these broken shards pile up somewhere

and make you trip and fall

and bleed

on lonely nights.

Or do they just rot in a corner

of your broken heart

where the stench becomes unbearable

maybe that’s why you find it hard

to just breathe.

Do they become a rope

tied to your feet

always holding you back

always keeping you tied

preventing you from taking risks

moving forward, trying.

Do they become ghosts

that whisper in the night

and keep you up

singing of all your disappointments

as the tears slowly roll down your cheeks.

Do they become the reflection in the mirror

always reminding you

how you fell short

how you couldn’t get them.

Do they become the silence in the room

when people leave

because you despair too much

over these broken dreams.

Do they become your best friend

holding you hand, always in close touch

more so, than any other real person.

Do they become you?

Do they manifest and slowly metamorphose into you

Taking away your identity

Your being, your joy, the sparkle in your eyes.

And all that remains, are these broken dreams that now define you.

 

(c) Sneha Pathak

Who do you want to be today?

Who do you want to be today?

The possibilities are endless

Do you want to be the best writer out there

Or pretend to be someone who just doesnt care?

Do you want to finally clean up the house

Or do you want be the most loving spouse?

An ideal daughter, calling and looking after her parents

Or become the life of the party at every event?

Do you want to improve your skills and knowledge

Or do you want to leave your boring life, and pursue your dream of being on the stage?

Do you want to run away to the beach and have a vacation?

Or excel at your job, battle for that promotion?

Do you want to pick up a new language, just because

Or do you want just sit back and take a pause?

So many possible turns this day could tak

So many choices, all yours to choose and make.

Each day you feel like a new world of opportunities and choices has opened up, changing the game

Each day, however ends up being the same.

Just as your New year, new me resolutions vanished into thin air

What were they anyway, do you even remember or care?

So whoever you decide to be today,

Come tomorrow, you will forget about it and go down some other way.

(C) Sneha Pathak

At least you tried

The skies cry

Cleansing the city.

Or at least trying to.

The mother sings a lullaby,

Hungry child in arms,

Hoping for him to fall asleep

To avoid hunger, or at least try to.

The girl scribbles in her journal

Letting out the demons, the pain and the loneliness

She tries to forget how hurtful words can be, how cruel, how tormenting

At least she tries to.

The man returns home drenched

Weary of another day of grind,

He smiles a warm smile for his dying wife.

At least he tries to.

They try and try,

In the muddy swamp

To find a way.

For hope I was told,

Can only be produced

Never bought and sold.

Never borrowed or lent

It can be revived, even if out of shape.

Or so they say.

I wrote this poem

To talk of futile hope and optimism

At least I tried to.

(C) Sneha Pathak

Where do you want to go?

Where would you rather be?

The all-powerful machine

That rests on top of your head

Where do you want it to take you instead?

In the woods far away,

Walking in solitude

Or maybe at a banquet of delicious food?

Would you rather be at a beach,

Or would you give up the excel sheets

For a chance to teach?

Or would you use this machine as a time travel device

To travel through time and space,

Somewhere where your heart lies?

Maybe with a loved one departed,

Maybe back to where your story started.

To try to change the course of your story

Or to escape from memories, dark and gory.

Picture yourself in the South of France,

Or in a studio where it’s just you and your dance.

Or a library full of dusty books that are your sole company

Or just to escape from the exhausting monotony

Somewhere where the music, sings your hearts symphony.

To live an alternate life with possibilities endless

To somehow avoid, life and all its mess.

Wherever you choose to go,

You only just need to close your eyes.

For all you delusional adventures,

Just a vivid imagination would suffice.

 

© Sneha Pathak [Rights Reserved]

The perfect couple

Pretty as a picture

Their life seems so rosy

To the world outside

They seem to be living warm and cozy.

For the music at their parties

Drowns out the screams

Their smiles are so perfect and dazzling

No one seems to guess

The reality so very troubling.

For they play the perfect couple

Of martial life, beautiful without a ripple.

But the storm underneath they manage to conceal

Their tired, swollen eyes, they give away how they really feel.

The scars on their body

Well hidden my seams

The scars on their heart

Well what of them?

For they follow the whims of their heart,

They had promised to stick together

Till death do them apart.

(C) Sneha Pathak

What do you know of heartbreak?

What do you know of heartbreak?

You don’t get emotionally invested

Your eyes have never been tested

For the number of tears, they can dispel

Your lips, for the number of apologies

They can propel.

You can walk out of love like it meant nothing

You, forget people like children forget old playthings.

You thought the song under the stars was a childish gesture

My love, my care, my loyalty, do you realize they are a treasure?

You dismissed the cards I made you,

Staying up all night

You go to your parties, right after a fight.

You see no emotions in the poetry I write

You don’t fear losing your love,

and waking with a fright.

You say you’re stoic and unemotional

I say you have never known love and devotion.

I say you haven’t felt the pain I feel

When I see her every day

When I wonder why do people like her get their way?

I say you haven’t felt the crushing weight

of someone’s lips as they part with a final kiss.

I say, your heart has no one to long for, no one to miss.

I say that you have not felt the burning flames of love

Of a feeling so intense that it consumes your being.

Neither have you felt the pain of an indifferent lover

Because you are the first to walk out, even before it’s over.

© Sneha Pathak [Rights Reserved]