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Overflowing Ideas.

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

  • All I See is Blue- poem

    I’m sailing west and all I see is blue.
    All I see is a canvas of waves,
    Maybe if I step carefully I’ll be able to dance across the sea to the horizon.

    It’s my kingdom as far as my eye can see,
    I hold the world in my fist, it belongs to me and only me,
    It resides in my soul- a kind memory.
    My heart pulses with reassurance,
    A gentle hymn of water and the sea.

    I’m sailing west and I close my eyes, yet all I see is blue.
    Cerulean overpowers my senses and leaves me feeling
    Weak in the knees-
    Blue humbles me and bathes me in awe, beauty, and ease.
    It emphasises my helplessness because
    I don’t know where I’m going in this ultramarine infinity
    As calm, cool, and chilled as it is sharp, shocking, and savage.
    All I can hope for is that I’m heading home, steady divinity.

    It’s on the verge of mocking my lack of clarity:
    The waves speak the sacred language of the ocean,
    I’m not privy to its celeste secrets.

    I’m sailing west with innocence and a prayer, still all I see is blue.
    I don’t trust the stars to guide me, my heart
    Strives to believe she is one with moana-
    Maybe if I step carefully I’ll be able to dance across the sea to the horizon.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/sea-waves-ceITO2rlDgc

  • Electricity- poem

    Electricity is raw, powerful, and intense.
    In its true form, it buzzes and
    Howls and thrashes in unfiltered rage.
    It causes shudders and shock,
    Hurling chaos and carnage,
    Unleashed.

    When not contained, it is naked and
    Burning and white and invoking fear,
    It does not give in to life and love, instead
    Worships agony and awe.

    Till it is captured and caressed and channeled
    To change to a more civilised form.
    It’s tamer now. It hasn’t lost its essence in this
    Metamorphosis,
    Insisting on being wild and free, while harnessed.

    It shares the same name as the force that caused destruction and havoc.
    It is not any less capable, any less terrifying.
    But it is now a facilitator to warmth, comfort, and convenience.

    It is now a stove that keeps you content,
    Now a fan that sings you to sleep,
    A bright yellow bulb that inspires you to think.

    It is not any less beautiful, any less powerful,
    Simply channeled and concentrated.
    We, too, can be channeled and concentrated.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/a-close-up-of-a-light-bulb-in-the-dark-L09ZAwv-FFw

  • Red Sunglasses- poem

    I’m wearing red sunglasses.
    The sky looks like it’s stuck at sunset,
    Everyone is always blushing,
    Water now looks like peach lemonade or a fancy cocktail I’m not allowed to have or translucent blood.
    Everything is tinted,
    Everything is sharp,
    Everything is crimson.

    I’m wearing red sunglasses.
    And everyone agrees it is super chic but
    I feel like I’m veiled.
    The world feels obscure to touch, foreign, unknown.
    I’m somehow within a movie where it is just Red&Red instead of Black&White.
    The freedom and joy of colours is beyond me while this costume of scarlet refuses to leave me.

    I’m wearing red sunglasses.
    And in a world where I could find love, I find anger.
    The stubborn sky that was stuck at sunset reluctantly gives way to twilight
    And the moon is bleeding but I tell her it’s not the same.
    Mars looks redder today as she agrees.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/A6mji45ETd4

  • You’re a Sunflower- poem

    Someone told me that I’m a sunflower.
    I smile too much, laugh too loudly,
    I’m yellow.
    I’m a living, breathing entity slowly being reduced to
    One single flower.
    Why does no one tell me I’m a field of sunflowers?
    That my beauty is overwhelming,
    Unable to be restrained or contained on a single hill.
    Why does no one say I’m a sky full of stars?
    That my soul spans across galaxies,
    My ideas aren’t confined to one planet:
    I want to become an entire universe.
    I’m not a rock, I’m not a mountain, I’m not a flower,
    I’m not a star, I’m not a tigress, I’m not a queen.
    I’m a force to be reckoned with.
    Let words not reduce me, control me, undermine me.
    The euphoria of music is never truly captured by its score.
    The beauty of humans is never truly captured by words.

    Written by
    Milomi.

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

  • While Falling For- poem

    It’s a spark, a tiny, kindling flame,
    A humble comfort, a meek butterfly
    But a butterfly nonetheless.
    It’s bubbling, doing jumping jacks in a way butterflies shouldn’t be able to.
    Is love a butterfly or a dragon?
    It’s a reassurance but also a risk,
    Maybe being too excited is also being slightly afraid,
    But maybe joy eclipses it all.
    Maybe joy also eclipses the pain and the ache,
    Can happiness numb heartache?
    This dragon in me is roaring fire in triumph
    Victory, victory, victory
    Love, love, love.
    This dragon in me scorches my throat and morphs me into a being I don’t understand,
    I’m a leash to love
    Is it terrific or terrifying?
    I’m flying up and high and far and fast,
    Carrying a future on my back,
    Love is allegedly the wind beneath my wings.
    If I look down, I know I’ll fall. I know I’m not a dragon.
    I keep my head up.
    Here’s to love.

    Written by
    Milomi.

  • Oblivion- poem

    “Just keep going straight ahead, you’ll reach the light.”

    I’ve been spun around and shaken,
    My thoughts are shivering in a small corner,
    Hiding, wondering if it’s safe to come out.
    I’ve lost all sense of orientation, of balance, of life.
    Forgotten which foot is right and which is left,
    Where my eyes are and where my heart is.

    I’m starting to collapse upon myself,
    I’m not a supernova but a black hole:
    Everything is dark, dark, dark.

    Tears blur my mind, it all feels
    Hot and sticky and wrong, but I can’t do anything.
    Oblivion blindfolds me and abandons me in a silenced void,
    I slowly lose feeling, lose memory, lose life.

    I try my best to keep going straight ahead,
    But I keep circling circles and meeting an abyss
    Every time.
    I’ve lost my way, the blindfold thickens, darkness threatens,
    And the promise of light is long forgotten.

    Written by
    Milomi.

  • my words- a poem

    when i was four, i carefully wrote my name in the sand.
    my dad held my hand and helped me trace it in two other languages
    and i watched the sea gently caressing the shore, but never reaching my name
    my name was protected from the rolling waves and the salty foam-
    she was resilient.

    when i was seven, i stared at a sheet of paper;
    my dad wanted me to write seven lines about ‘A Day on the Beach’.
    i wrote about the yellow sun and the blue sea and the tall sandcastles i made and how tanned i was,
    yet holding the dear memory close to my chest like a secret.

    when i was eleven, i scribbled stories and poems in my notebooks
    probably not knowing what exactly i wanted to say,
    but knowing i had something to say.
    i wrote about fireflies and stars and magic-
    aching to pen down the wonders of life that i felt i knew too well, achingly wanting to be heard.

    when i was thirteen, i dug deep into myself and wrote about
    life and death;
    about experiences too deep to bring on to paper but which i tried my best to capture;
    about all kinds of love and somehow even more kinds of loneliness;
    i drew from a pool of ideas, not knowing how jagged and scattered its depths were but still wanting
    to swim in the deep.

    when i’m fifteen, i now stare at a sheet of paper.
    i lose myself in thought, holding on to heavy words in my heart-
    are they worthy of paper?
    do my ideas deserve the freedom of ink?
    are my stories truly resilient?
    i wonder as i still channel the written word, somehow not always satisfied:
    waiting for rain to flood my desert and one day,
    set my words free.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/d7M5Xramf8g

  • Am I an Ocean? -poem

    Words are water that need to be set free from mouths.
    They need to be welcomed and cajoled and
    Warmed before they can flow out to the shore.

    I used to be a brackish well.
    Brimming with water full of words that
    Stand ashamed and jagged and confused,
    I was ashamed and jagged and confused.

    My words spoke of other people.
    Of other stories and other experiences and
    Other lives. I always
    Overlooked mine.

    I slowly try to cleanse myself of
    Muddy feelings and coarse opinions,
    Maybe my words will now be sweet water. Sweet joy.

    I know I stand as a tiny well. I want to be
    A wild ocean.
    I want to have waves that reach the shore.
    Salt water that is cold relief to the throat.
    Words and words and words: all stories, mine to tell.

    All words, belonging to me.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/0-FBo3a8ytU

  • calm- poem

    in another world, we’re calm.
    we’re not agitated or afraid or trembling
    or turbulent or impatient or livid
    or morose or bitter or crestfallen.
    we’re calm.

    in another world, we’re smiling as
    thick, sticky honey dribbles down our chins and
    resilient red strawberries stain our tongues.
    our faces are messed in whipped cream and our
    hands hold pulped, tangerine oranges and our
    feet barely open the oven for the apple crumble in time-
    we’re calm.

    in another world, we’re slow dancing to
    christine mcvie and john mayer.
    we’re losing balance and losing ourselves and
    laughing a laugh as true as the sun,
    as open as the sky.
    our home hums this graceful song like the songbirds,
    who sing like they know the score,
    and we know-
    we’re calm.

    in another world, we’re rejoicing as
    we’re running towards something worth living for;
    your hand is the key to my locked fist- together we’re
    sprinting through the fields of daffodils and daisies,
    towards that ocean of dreams we’ve longed for.
    our clothes are sandy, our hair is tangled, our hearts are beating
    boom boom boom
    and we’re not afraid anymore.
    we’re calm.

    in another world, we’re living the
    freedom we’ve only been promised till now- we waited on the world to change
    and we decided to do it ourselves.
    we’re grinning as we spot the Big Dipper in a canvas of constellations,
    we’re wide-eyed at heaven,
    may she envelope us in her beauty.
    we’re marvelling earth as she hugs us in cool dew and
    kisses us in moonlight and
    cradles us in this calmness, this hugeness, this coloured life.

    yes.
    in another world,
    we’re alive.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/z1bunSbbOt0

  • Red Rose- poem

    Clutch the crimson rose,
    More coloured than your maroon lips,
    Flavourful and dangerous-
    Singing a deep ballad of bloodied love.
    Bite that scarlet rose, those
    Cherry ruby petals, adorning your
    Magical, mysterious mouth.
    Stain your teeth with the
    Deathly juice of raw pomegranate,
    Holy cerise and classic carmine, harsh hues.
    Crush those poised petals, give way to
    Powerful dyes to blind the world.
    These sacred ashes of a flower’s beauty, still
    Alive in pure paint;
    What a beautiful burgundy.
    A resilient scream of red in a sea of muted tones.
    Sing, you red rose, sing.

    Written by
    Milomi.