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Overflowing Ideas.

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Just because I’m awake doesn’t mean I can’t dream.

  • Petals – poem

    I saw a petal drift down to the ground
    I bent and picked it up
    It was tiny, almost insignificant
    It wasn’t as fancy
    Or as coloured
    As the flower who birthed it

    It had fallen
    And I had pityingly picked it up
    Not heeding the fact
    That it needed to be mended
    After falling

    It had lost all radiance
    It didn’t bloom
    It sat in my palm in gloom

    My touch wrinkled it more
    It hadn’t survived the fall
    How would it survive the aftermath?

    How can a petal be revived
    If it falls apart at help
    And refuses to pull itself together
    To be healed
    And looked at

    How can something be fixed
    After almost being stepped upon
    Then rescued by a hand covered in mud
    Then treated as a flower and not petal
    Expected to be strong
    After openly failing to be so?

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/E5WGPoPit0w

  • Sparks – poem

    Flints are struck
    In hope of warmth
    Hands are worn out
    And blackened by dirt

    Cold winds are welcomed
    But the door to our hearts remains shut
    We pray for the last time
    And give it another shot

    Flints are thrown away in frustration
    Dusk is greeted
    Clothes are adopted as blankets
    But the wind doesn’t heed fear

    We tear out our heads
    And gather the discarded flints
    Strike them together in different ways
    To find the spark

    Flints don’t respond
    Stars begin to twinkle in
    Breaths are let in and out
    But the stones are not lit

    One last time, one last promise
    One last hope before it’s snuffed out by the wind
    We strike the flints together
    And we see the first spark

    Joy replaces disappointment
    Relief replaces tension
    Sighs replace groans
    Warmth replaces chills.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/XOQJa4OC8P0

  • The Storm

    Over the mountains, and away, sometimes we see a storm approaching. We stock up on joy, happiness and candles in case the light goes out. We pray the grey clouds leave us alone, and yearn for sunshine. We hold hands and hope for the best.

    Sometimes, the storm decides to come our way. We push our hair out of our eyes as we hastily close all doors and windows. We focus on the present and shut out everything else. All the problems, worries, questions that are an itch in the back of our minds.

    We know that the sun is going to come, it’s on its way. But we act as if it won’t ever shine on earth ever again. We take all steps, we go full out. We brace ourselves for the unimaginable, because there is no way this storm is the worst. Something worse will come along the way, it will.

    We do everything, and wipe the sweat off our foreheads time and again. We learn to live with the storm, laughing and crying. We adopt that harsh reality.

    But the storm disappears the next day. Everything we’ve been depending on has vanished. The storm, that we came to love, turned his back on us and gave us a break from thunder.

    Some of us will accept the storm has passed. Some of us will swell with pride and narrate the storm’s stories. And the rest of us will miss the storm, till we experience his wrath again.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/L4-16dmZ-1c

  • Fall – poem

    I thought that I could climb a mountain
    That I could overcome everything
    That I would reach my summit
    And look out at the world
    Beaming and gushing
    And happy

    I thought I could do anything
    So I tried
    I took the chance
    I stood and ignored the rocks that I stumbled upon

    I did not heed the avalanche of boulders
    That greeted me in all goodness
    I did not see the obvious future
    And regarded the winding paths
    As a clear road

    I thought bandages would appear magically
    And heal myself
    And cease the bleeding
    I thought everything would happen
    I never knew I would fall

    I never dreamed of slipping
    And tripping
    And running out of breath
    And having to hold on
    To the cliff
    In hopes of not falling

    And my fingers are worn out
    And calloused
    They might let go
    And I know I’ll be falling

    Will it feel like a roller coaster
    Or will I lose consciousness
    Is this what it feels like to be a bird
    Is this what it feels like to fall?

    Written by
    Milomi.

  • Will we? – poem

    Will we ever look back

    And regret life

    And cry at the past

    Or will we be forgotten

    Will love be a fable

    Told excitingly around a fire

    Will we be remembered

    Will someone tell our story?

    Will we pass life

    As merely a spectator

    And not be big enough

    To be the asteroid that creates an impact

    Will we find something new

    To go after and chase

    To narrate to our children

    Once today is over

    Will there be anything left to say

    And do

    And try

    And be

    Once we run out of ideas

    Will creation be eternal?

    Or will we run out of material

    To rave about

    And build

    Will we fall

    Or will we act as ghosts of mankind

    Will we cross that boundary

    That separates dreams and reality

    And be the asteroid ourselves.

    Written by

    Milomi.

  • Hoarse – poem

    This is about a woman who shouts at her life, who took her son and left her back. She doesn’t know what to look forward to, for she has no reason to wake up in the morning. Her tears enrich the garden, yet her pain is everlasting.

    HOARSE

    Everything looked normal
    The road was just as busy
    The buses were just as crowded
    The buildings were still standing
    But I had fallen.

    Everything around me was unreal
    It was as if I was living my own life
    And the catastrophes that hurt me
    Didn’t hurt anyone else
    And nobody cared about the person I cared for the most.

    I was awake every day
    To make something
    To do something
    To see my son smile
    But what is left of life
    Once all of its essence is sucked out
    By a passing life?

    What does the world want of me
    Once a half of my self
    Has been buried
    And can never be revived.

    Why is cruelty
    Constantly shoving me
    Under boulders of pain
    And expecting me to get up
    Without bruises.

    My tears are not wet enough
    My shouts can be louder
    I can scream till I’m hoarse
    And till water cannot quench me
    Or the lies I tell myself
    So I can sleep.

    The ship I’ve been sailing on
    Has begun to sink
    And I know I’m going to sink with it
    For my son is the anchor
    That pulls me down
    And he was but my life
    But he is gone.

    I cannot find anything to hold onto
    Everything I see
    Is sinking
    Every incentive I had
    To be alive
    All my work
    Is being blown away
    Like how the rain destroys a candle.

    My hope is a fire that I lit long ago
    But it is being put out
    My life, my all
    Is a memory
    And the present, which makes no sense
    Is no more.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/6SNbWyFwuhk

  • Time

    Time is the fastest train, whom we can never catch. We’re always late to the platform. Sometimes we are too early, and we end up forgetting about the train itself. We remember years as yesterday. Millions of moments as just a flash. We have never grasped time and gone where time takes us.

    Time is the kind of person who will leave you behind without a second glance. Time knows what is happening, but we don’t. We are always stuck in the future, or in the past. Our minds are like theaters, who play the same movie over and over again.

    We start off where we think time is, but we always lose track. Time drags us through a maze, full of obstacles and dangers. We surrender at times, and we are able to catch up. If we think about it too much, we get left behind. If we don’t heed time, we cannot keep up.

    It’s scary how years can fly by and we must have lived for a few days. We must have acknowledged the few days. The rest of the days are probably us groaning about time, and struggling.

    It’s almost like a marathon where time is always leading. Some of us are panting, some of us have started walking, some of us have flung ourselves on the ground and clutched stitches in our sides. In the end, we know that time will win, and we don’t feel like burning our legs and ending up in pools of sweat. We know the inevitable and we refuse to change it.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/Ai7sV3SSMIQ

  • Veils – poem

    I stretched my hand out
    For I’ve been blinded
    And I feel the veil
    The veil that separates truth from lies

    The veil won’t move
    It starts to melt into my hands
    It’s molten lava
    And ice
    At the same time

    I might vanish
    For the veil has power
    And its power is leaking
    Into the world

    I can’t stop it
    The end has always been inevitable
    But I never knew
    That we would die
    Of a veil
    That hid the rest of us
    From one

    I had always imagined us ending in another way
    Maybe we would fall fighting
    Or hang on in the hospital
    Or never wake up

    But we have done the fighting
    Returned home
    To find a veil
    Through which everything seems blurry

    We have hung on
    And managed to pull ourselves up
    We walked back, weary
    To trip on a veil

    We woke up
    We yawned, our eyes watered, we staggered and stumbled
    When we saw the veil

    And the veil separated everyone

    If we ever destroy that veil
    We might meet success
    Or destruction
    It’s impossible to say
    Since many of us don’t know that we look through
    A veil.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/B6EOsmCLVSM

  • Beauty

    We go on trips and holidays, and gaze at the mountains and declare that nature is true beauty. We look at clothes in shops and malls, and declare that the clothes are beautiful. We look at movies, listen to songs, read pieces and we come to the same conclusion, that life is beautiful and filled with beauty.

    We look at misshapen objects and frown or scoff upon them. We look at edges that don’t quite fit, at colours that don’t really match, at some layers of life that require some decoration or change or smoothening down.

    We look at something that blinds you, that is too great, too much to take in at a time. We look at these objects that have no place in life, yet they are the objects that make up life.

    These few things that are too bright, yet too dull. Too sharp, too blunt. These objects that are rough, and don’t hide truth under millions of blankets impossible to find, is what life lives for.

    We look at these objects, and feel its ruthlessness and vigour and we turn away. We don’t embrace the beauty in life, we mistake them for something else.

    If you were to see a vase pieced together after being broken, you wouldn’t look at it as having survived something. You wouldn’t spare it another glance. And that is what we do for the better part of our lives.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/y5dUcQXzJ40

  • Shackles – poem

    I am bound to this earth
    I am tied up with chains
    And thrown into a cave
    Expected to not scream
    Expected to calm down

    I am beaten
    And I have broken
    And I must mend
    While I’m imprisoned
    Since the worst is yet to come

    It is dark around me
    And everything is unclear
    No light dares to see me
    No weather greets me
    No feelings absorb me

    I am left, trying to figure out
    Where the sun went
    Where the moon vanished
    Why I was abandoned by days
    Why time kept on running
    But never told me where it was
    Leaving me behind to catch up

    It is almost cruel
    Of the world
    To erase my mind
    To leave me not knowing
    Anything

    I am chafing against these chains
    Struggling
    Losing my voice
    Losing myself
    Watching myself fall into an abyss
    No longer holding on to sanity

    I was tame
    Before I was shackled
    But now I’m wild
    The beast inside of me
    Has enveloped my world
    Has become me

    And that beast
    Is now
    Everything.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/X4Beud2UQCQ