If Only

If only we could detach body parts.
My hand could go unlock the door while my eyes read,
My hair stir in the breeze while my forehead furrowed.
I could put my uterus aside, let it vent its fury alone,
Throw out those awful cramps and let my body relax.
Send my legs out for a hike while my eyes slept,
Make that brain sit in the corner and think about what it did wrong.
Quiet that stuttering heart in the palm of my hand,
Soothing it, shushing it until it calmed.
I could be healthier,happier, more productive even.
But best of all- I could get away from myself.

~Sam

Where are you?

I'm there for you,
Always. (Almost.)
You're here for me,
Sometimes. (When?)
You speak, I listen.
I speak- you speak.
I walk around,
Alone.
Texting my sorrows
Away
To long distant ears
Who listen, when I speak.
Where are you,
When I need you?
Where are you,
When I'm the only one here to hold me?
Where are you,
When you don't need me?

Is it unfair of me,

To judge you by my standard?

You are different,

I know.

We are all different.

But where are you,
When I need you?

~Sam

Two minute "poetry"

I remember a scene from St. Clare's
Or was it Malory Towers?
One of those Enid Blyton books.
Where a character, a French girl,
Wants to get out of class
And decides to fake a stomach ache-
Only to point to her heart instead.
Or maybe it was the opposite,
And she mistook stomach for heart.
Either way, the point stands-
That there is such an odd connection between the two.
Butterflies in your stomach
Usually signify trouble for that racing heart,
And nothing causes nausea as bad as impending heartache.
My heart will miss my family when I leave
And my eyes will cry and my throat will be sore
But it's my stomach which will be the first to get troubled.

It's my stomach which has become the first to get troubled.

~Sam

Procrastination

Facebook, twitter, tumblr, blogger
Not necessarily in that order.
Staring out the window, at the screen,
Refreshing snapchat, taking a selfie.
Checking whatsapp even with no notification,
All is intriguing when it comes to procrastination.
And even with no people, no laptop, no phone-
There are always those split ends you can rely on.

~Sam
Please don't judge me, I wrote this in under five minutes. (I was trying not to procrastinate too long.)

Bad.

Why do bad things happen to good people?
Is it arrogant, bad to believe you're a good person,
Or but natural?
Don't challenge the universe, I tell people.
Don't ask, "What's the worst that could happen?"
I don't challenge the universe, I don't ask.
The worst happens.
Be good, be nice, don't jinx it. Touchwood.
It's jinxed anyway.

Why do bad things happen all together?
One, then another, then another-
Perhaps it will end now, maybe dawn will come now-
But no, darkness continues its reign,
Intensifies further,
Till you forget there ever was light.
Good vanquished by bad,
Like eraser on pencil-
Nay, worse, like fire on paper-
Not a trace of the beauty of the pencilled words
Left behind.


~Sam

At the end of another day

The day ends and in the blinking light of the passing cars,
You see them all. Heading home.
The men with stooped backs carrying heavy loads,
To wives whom they will beat and love.
The women, heads down and steps quick, to a cold stove,
Waiting to be heated up.
The parents, smiling bright, bickering soft,
Behind children with lips turned up as high as the balloons floating above.

~Sam

Never meet

Credits: Humans of Amsterdam

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=524183944295814&set=a.410083055705904.88527.406776679369875&type=1&theater

Two people who won't greet; two souls who won't speak.

So close and so far; two stories which won't meet.

So many that we pass, never once to grasp hands or touch eyes.

Never once to share laughs, shed tears, breathe sighs-

In another world, that was a best friend walking by.

~Sam

To Be Or Not To Be And All That Jazz

Impromptu writing session with a friend.
[Like, written-in-three-minutes-in-the-middle-of-an-unrelated-conversation impromptu.]
We alternated stanzas. I'm the hopeful one.

To be or not to be,
To love or not to love,
To laugh or not to laugh,
To live or not to live,
When it all ends in tears.

It seems so difficult,
So impossible even to imagine,
That it could be easy.
But it can be easy.

I tried my best,
Opened my heart to a world of hope,
But all I got was a world of pain,
Can you blame me when I wonder
Whether to be or not to be?

But some days it gets better.
Some days I can see.
The shining letters dancing,
Screaming, "Be, be, be!"


~Sam

If only I were capable of managing time.

A poem written out of a conversation between the Christmas Cookie and I.

"Why must sleep and work be so mutually exclusive,
For me?"
"Well, if only you could manage time,
They wouldn't be!"
"If I were to manage time, ha!
I could rid the world of cancer.
Then I would be rich and famous,
Live a life fulfilled and joyous.
Know all the right men and women,
Even my beloved, Hugh Jackman!
And with Hiddelston, the Tom,
Get the Cookie on!
Oh what a life would be mine,
If only I were able to manage time!"

~Sam

Do you remember?

A story-poem-thing.


Do you remember?
The times before you knew to lie.
To keep your mouth smiling shut, your head down.
Before the sounds of screaming and fighting,
Became such a part of your life.

Do you remember?
Being shaken in the middle of the night.
Your brother couldn't witness it alone.
Your mother with a lit match to her clothes,
Your father laughing on the bed in front.

Do you remember?
"Mum!" Reaching out to save her.
The horror dawning in her contorted face,
As she realized what she would have left behind,
Whom she would have left them with.

Do you remember?
The years passing by,
With uneasy smiles and risky lives.
Abandonment and anger,
Misery and regret.

Do you remember?
His hand exploding across your face,
His eyes fastened on yours,
The fear clenching your guts,
His clap thundering around the room.

Do you remember?
Your mother and brother rushing in,
(enough was enough),
The relief in your blood,
The rage rushing through your veins,
While your mouth remained paper dry.

Do you remember?
The screams screaming what you never knew.
The blur of rushing away,
The burn of seeing him again.
The haze of  packing and leaving.

Do you remember?
The post-traumatic peace.
The feeling of love,
And the remnants of hate.
Fear and comfort, rage and relief, smiles and sorrow.

Do you remember?
Floating in a new life,
Lost and unsure,
Safe and unsafe,
Until that decision was made.

That enough, was enough.

~Sam

Something

The clouds have shadows,
Long and dark,
Sheathing the earth,
In their noon-time dusk.

The moon has a glow,
Low and shining,
Guiding the lovers,
Off on their horse.

The wind has billows,
Loud and tumultuous,
Shielding the playing child,
As his mother cries.

The sea has waves,
Soft and sweet,
A soothing balm,
Cleansing all sorrows.


~Sam

Something impulsive I came up with watching the clouds cover the town, on my flight. Just writing for the sake of writing. It isn't very good, but it's been a while.

Rain, a cut and a bandaid.

Darkened tar on the roads
Offsets the bright fallen leaves.
The cold wind hurls rain at my face
Through space and sorrow and fluid green trees.
A cut and a conversation are the cherry on top,
And a bandaid and a childhood cure make my joy complete.

(Yes, I have an irrational fascination with small wounds and bandaids.)

~Sam

Ending

The day is ending.
The sky is darkening,
The balloons are drooping,
Their life running dry.
The sun is setting,
The crows are crying,
Circling round the sky.
Leaves scatter the ground,
The heavens glow dull,
The night creatures start to stir.
The crescent moon already rising,
I accompany it up the stairs.
Down the hall,
Through the door,
Into my haven.

And a day in the world ends.

~Sam