Dinner table conversation

Like a iron hammer striking a metal gong
The spoon clashes against the plate
Playing crude, loud, lonely songs
Of love, heartbreak and fate.

The old chair creaks under my touch, the one that we picked out together
The one you always wanted to get rid of for a newer design
You see I held on to it,
For my hope unlike yours, does not resign.

The pale white plates with light blue flowers clatter as I put them on the table,
The state of which, is also no longer stable.

This creaking, clatter and clashes, make noises make a symphony
Helping me fill this silence melancholy.
Even though my heart can’t stand this separation,
This melody, makes up for our missing dinner table conversation.

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Circle of Power

A little bit of supernatural for today’s Three Line Tales

She was a sweet little girl who had always imagined her life would be perfect and filled with all things magical – a prince on a white horse and all things lovely.

Life had another plan, and as they say “It’s written” in the stars, for living in orphanages, to her foster mother’s cruelties, bullies at school and lack of love had taken away every inch of hope, except that of true love.

Therefore, when she gave it all to him and he broke her heart, she had no option but to give up the idea of magic and focus on witchcraft and today she stands on the sacrificial green circle of power – ready to sacrifice that jerk and gain her full powers as a witch.

 

  • Sneha Pathak (c)

Analysis of Mariana – Lord Alfred Tennyson

Hello readers,

Before I begin the analysis, here is a link to the poem for those of you who haven’t read it yet – Click here

Mariana is a poem describing the despair and isolation of a woman in an isolated home.

The poem describes the passing of time, the surroundings, the objects in the vicinity of the woman all reflecting the gloominess of her life.

The following lines are repeated after every stanza, in some way or the other –

 “I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!”

This describes the extent of the despair felt by the woman. She feels cut off from the world, lonely, deserted by her lover.

She spends her days in tears and her nights wide awake, wishing for death, for she cannot bear the absence of love.

Here are a few lines from me on the topic of waiting for your love.

In the morning sun, 
As I watch the children run
Happy and carefree, 
My hear whispers, 
Oh I how I envy thee!
For I miss the times I was free.
Free from the shackles of love 
The clouds of gloom above. 
A simpler time, 
When I was content with my rhyme.
Your absence now pricks my heart
I curse myself, for letting this story start.
I swallow my pride to hear your voice,
Even hearing your indifference would suffice. 
But why did you come through this door dear?
When all your promises were a lie. 

The dark side of love, one of utter despair where no voice is enough to fill the silence. Where no person is enough to fill the gap left by them. Where nothing holds your interest when life itself seems like a burden is projected in this poem.

Which is why perhaps, the woman, in the end, accepts the bitter reality that her love will not come.

Do share your views after reading the poem!
(Disclaimer: Following a few lines by an amateur poet in poetry by Tennyson is foolhardy. However, I am doing this to continue writing poems while reading this book Taking inspiration perhaps. )

Silver Linings

In this solitary dark night

The fire that burns her world

Appears to her a ray of light.

The knives of the words that cut her heart,

Seem to be the music that makes silence depart.

The monsters that haunt her sleep,

Are the only people who’s company she keeps.

For her youthful feeble eyes,

Never recognize their lies.

When in her heart something is amiss,

She tells herself ignorance is bliss,

Imprisoned by this prison of toxic love,

She calls it a home, lucky to have a roof above.

(c) Sneha P [Rights Reserved]

What do you do with the songs?

I wonder what do you do with all the songs? You know the songs, that people, friends, lovers and so on suggest to you or the ones you suggest to them? What do you do with these songs when these people leave?

What do you do when the song, that you and your best friend screamed into the mike at that karaoke bar comes on the radio, when you both don’t talk anymore?

What do you do with the song that your boyfriend sang on the phone at 2 am when he drunk dialed to tell you he loves you, when you haven’t seen him in months.

What do you do with the song that you danced to at your wedding with the man who promised to love forever, when the last you saw him was in a divorce court?

How many songs can you avoid? How many songs can you hate, simply because they bring you nothing but a stabbing  pain in your heart as the memories of people that left comes rushing back.

What do you with the songs?

 

© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]

Failed synchronization

Synchronize

Some time in a age, not very long ago,

Lie memories, I don’t want to let go.

The sparkle in your eyes,

Now filled with apathy, time does fly.

Apathetic to you the love poems you wrote,

What could I have done with your heart unsought?

Ah, however,your persistence did wear me down,

the flood of love, finally made me drown.

As I professed my love for you from mountain tops,

I realized, you never took the time to stop.

Stop and listen to my sonnets, my poetry

Nor did you take a moment to pity my misery.

Our minds always in sync,

Your love though, gone before I could think

We could never get our hearts to synchronize,

And now my tears pay the price.

© Sneha P [rights reserved 2017]

Futile search

I search I search 

For pieces of me that I’ve left 

In places and people that brought me no good

Where promises of love were only falsehood.

I search I search

For the girl who believed in fairy tales

Who saw the good in people, to no avail. 

I search I search 

For the goodness of her heart 

However, for her sanity to remain, her humanity had to depart.

I search I search 

For her share of love, 

Little did I know, love wasn’t written in her destiny, by the Gods above. 

(C) Sneha P [Rights Reserved]