A doomed romance

Smooth jazz playing the background,

He spins her round and round.

While we sit there, in the candlelight

A classic black dress, and a shirt bright white.

Like characters of a film noir,

We soak in the beautiful soir.

You sip your whiskey neat,

and stare into my eyes,

and enjoy watching my heart skip a beat.

I wonder if this moment here

will we ever be this way again?

So far yet so near.

Far, because your eyes are drunk on liquor

My eyes,  drunk on something stronger

in the dim lights they flicker.

This moment here, you ruin its beauty

with your casual nonchalance,

And I, with my hopes pinned on a doomed romance.

So we celebrate this evening,

with some faux discussions.

My heart now wary, for I know the repercussions.

I fall nonetheless, for the music was intoxicating

as were your eyes and lies.

We watch the city lights and I wonder

if you notice my shy smile

I wonder if you noticed, it was missing for a while.

I wait for you to say the words

that would make my fairy tale come true

But guess you meant it

when you said you never knew how to woo.

As the night comes to an end, the tears flow down my cheeks

I shall dream of this evening for weeks.

But tomorrow, you shall forget my love,

For your eyes, didn’t have the same shine.

Come tomorrow, don’t worry about my broken heart,

My darling, it has endured a lot, it shall presumably be fine.

 

© Sneha Pathak [Rights Reserved]

 

 

 

 

 

The Holiday Choice

The holiday season and all its glory

Every face, every smile, every eye hides a story.

Of tradition and customs over the years,

Spending it with friends, alone or with someone dear.

Some recollect the joy of childhood and all the warm memories

Of lights, freshly baked cookies, and Christmas trees.

A recollection of carols, gifts under trees and the warmth of family

Others, who didn’t have that fortune, treat it as a bittersweet memory.

Some try to write new stories, with a loved one curled up in bed

Or cooking with your beloved.

Of failed attempts at baking that led to a laughter fest

Perhaps, an unexpected visit from a lover from far off,

Aren’t those the best?

Some want the day to be picture-perfect, following tradition

While others, take it as it comes, without any inhibition.

Some bombard social media with the pictures of them having fun

While some have the best time, without even telling anyone.

Some spend it alone, with some takeout, a movie, to get some peace of mind

Just a day to take their minds of the daily hustle and grind.

Whichever way you choose to embrace the day and its glory

All that matters is remember to be Merry!

PS – A small attempt at a holiday poem, very different from what I usually write (my regular readers will know).

The picture in this post is of all the Christmas trees I have seen this week! 🎄

Happy Holidays Everyone! What’s you favt holiday tradition? Comment below!

The horrors of love

When you find yourself

Crying to sleep

When your cuts are just too deep

When right before you thought it was going okay

You find your cheeks tear-stained, in the middle of the day.

When you dread speaking your mind

To avoid argument of any kind

For everything seems to spark a conflict

Maybe its time to realize

Heartbreak is the drug,

You are an addict.

That’s when you must look in the mirror

Look in your eyes, you’ll see fear.

Fear of being alone, not love my darling

And that right there is a good point for starting.

Pack your bags, emotionally or otherwise,

For a day mourn the relationship’s demise.

For a day, I say and not a second more,

For your heart has witnessed love turn to gore.

Sweet nothings turn to a bitter after taste in your mouth,

after you take their name

And not your happiness, but your sanity is now in doubt.

Leave, and run, far and away, somewhere they can’t find you again,

All your lost strength, try to regain.

Build yourself, this time stronger than before

For now, you have seen, the horrors love has in store.

But don’t give up on love my darling

For somewhere, there is someone who has gone through the same

Maybe one day, when you meet them, this shall make sense.

But if you don’t, that’s okay too

Because the person who loves you the most has to be you.

 

(c) Sneha Pathak 2019

Rights Reserved.

 

 

Buzzing thoughts

Like the busy streets of New York,

Swarming with cars and people.

My mind buzzes with thoughts

Worries, fears, notions and more

However unlike the people on the streets

These thoughts have no destination

They come and go as they please

Even if it makes me feel unease.

They overcrowd and leave little space to breathe

Burying me deep underneath.

They take away my joy at times

At times they become my idea for writing

Some times I try to bury them with work, music and travel

Other times I observe them from a distance and marvel.

Hypocrites when it comes to change

Change, we see it sometimes as a dear friend

sometimes as an enemy strange.

For we welcome it with open arms

when it’s invited

And shun it away when it comes unannounced.

The metamorphosis of the caterpillar to a butterfly

Is a beautiful natural phenomenon, we say.

Yet, we try so hard, for our old age to be delayed.

We admire the beauty of a bud turning into a rose

But toss it away, when it changes again and decays.

We rejoice when friends become lovers,

but call it a tragedy when they go back to just friends again.

When an intricate pot is breathed to life, from nothing but clay

We marvel at the potter’s handiwork

But when it shatters to pieces, it causes us dismay.

Even though, it began its life as mud from the earth

And ended it there again.

We see the beauty in fall, in auburn leaves and fiery trees

We see the beauty in the bloom of spring.

Yet, we feel sorrow, when the seasons of life change.

Why, I ask, do we rejoice in the birth of a child

Birth of a creation from nothing,

And talk so sorrowfully of death?

For we started as nothing, and return to it at once

Like a traveler returning home at night,

who feels no fright.

Pray tell, why then are we such hypocrites when it comes to change?

 

 

© Sneha Pathak

 

 

Hope is the thing

Hope is the thing that ruins you

The veiled demon,  dressed in a cloak of gold

Hiding underneath the dagger and the black robes.

Like the sirens that call out to the sailor

Hope sings a melody of success and dreams

Of success, glory, and joy bursting at seams.

It draws you out of your comfort zone,

Of apathy and inaction.

The small flame of light,

Fighting away the familiar dak night.

It promises you the morning sun,

Beware, its a trap. Run!

It draws you out and makes you toil

It makes you walk the burning soil

It takes your sweat, blood, and tears

It gives you sleepless nights filled with fear.

For now, you have something of value

The false diamond of dreams, gifted by hope.

But now it has made you a beggar

For you pray to all gods known to mankind

You pray to the universe, beg for a sign.

And when its all gone to dust

As you maybe knew it would

You are left a pile of skin and bones.

Hope will be the death of you

And just when you have given up

It will resurrect you anew.

 

© Sneha Pathak

Fall

Fall of leaves and hopes

When I was younger

A walk in the park, in fall evenings

Crisp cool wind and the golden glow before the sunset

Illuminating the glass windows of tall buildings

And auburn leaves falling all around me,

Were enough to make me smile wide.

I’d imagine I was in a movie

And feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

I’d hope to stumble into

My celebrity crush on the streets

And dream of walking Paris streets.

I would dream of growing up

Of having the freedom to go where I’d like

To pursue my heart’s calling and

Live however I liked.

Foolish dreams made of stardust and hope,

Swept away like fallen autumn leaves

By the merciless rake of adulthood and more.

Now I walk the streets, and feel the wind against my chest,

But my preoccupied mind and unobservant eyes

Ignore the wind, the leaves and the sunset.

I have the freedom, but I am confined.

I can go where I want, in theory

But I can’t take that first step, not today, not really.

For things need to be done, bills need to be paid,

People have to be pleased and deadlines have to be met.

Too afraid to take a chance,

I continue this monotonous dance.

The onset of autumn brings along memories

Of a golden time that made me beam.

But I can no longer feel it, for I lost my ability to dream.

(C) Sneha Pathak