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wordsonwings

What cannot be said, can be penned

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November 2016

The Meeting

This was her third cup of tea, she was not so much of a tea drinker but the restaurant served horrible coffee and drinking cold drinks would make her want to visit the stinky bathroom.

She was already nervous about this meeting and wanted to kick herself for giving in.

The curiosity is what they said killed the cat, well here she was and she had no nine lives.

But she really wanted to face the man who was biologically responsible for bringing her into this world and then moving on with his life as if she or her mother did not exist.

The call had come on her hostel landline and she had been up all night wondering who gave him the number. She had been out of touch with the world she left behind, a world which was small and where people were too ingrained in each other’s lives.

She thought she had moved on and then this blast from the past struck like a lightning and totally put her on the ground.

There was a time during her teens when she blamed her mother for everything and desperately tried to find out more about her father. He had shut her out and no matter how much she wanted to get in touch she got stonewalled.

All this years she wished he loved her and would return though she never considered how her mother would take it but like every teenage dream it was rosy and perfect and the world always revolved around her.

When the call came last night around 8pm she was chatting outside her room with her closest friend. She ran to the phone thinking it was her mother or that cute boy she was seeing a lot these days. When the decidedly very grown up voice on the other end enquired if she (and he repeated her full name twice to re-confirm) she was a little startled.

When he finally said slowly “I am your father” her knees just gave way and she sat down on the creaky chair near the phone.

It was as if somebody had punched her in the stomach and taken the wind out of her.

When she regained both her voice and her poise she coolly asked him what was this about.

Twenty-three years on this man had decided her she was worth meeting.

And here she was drinking tea and hoping he would show up.

Anticipation

Touch

He stood there molded in rock
Stance as frozen as ice
The look in his eyes was sharp as a knife
But it was nothing compared to his strife
He could destroy it all, burn it in an instant
She tiptoed up to him eliciting a response
He twirled her around and kissed her nose
And then it was gone that moment
Of anger and hurt and all the pain
She could do it and melt him again
Her touch was the magic that healed
And he buried himself in her arms

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/elicit/”>Elicit</a&gt;

Mythical Time

Though I am stay at home mom and I try to blog and do all my chores while my son (7) is in school there are times when between his homework and other schedules I do not spend enough time with him.

So, this Children’s Day (It is celebrated here on November 14th) I decided to spend the day with my child. I finished my chores early and since it was a day off from school for him he had already made his plan for the day.

It was a movie fest on almost all the movie channels that day and all the movies were aimed at entertaining the children.

Normally my son is not allowed TV for more than an hour each day this  but this was his special day and he was not going to hand over the remote.

I just let everything else slide and flopped on the sofa with my son. If I had to spend time with him I had to do it his way.

We watched Chronicles of Narnia.

At the end of it I did not want to return to my world and suddenly realised that my son and me were in the same world and immensely close.

We spoke at length of which characters we were and which were the battles we wanted to fight. Finally, at the end of the day when I tucked my son in bed I could see the lingering smile as he continued to be in his dreams what he reflected himself to be.

I wondered why do we ever grow up and become this sad money-making living for others futile selves.

 286e3016e87e412c12ced6d859397117     13796

 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/mythical/”>Mythical</a&gt;

The core in me

Many faces I see every day as I pass
Unaware of how much each one hides
Whether it is pain or malice, hatred or joy
There is a core to each one of us
Filled to the brim with years of experience
Sometimes bitter but never empty
And it percolates through veins
Of our various relationships
Making them what we want them to be
Abused or ever domineering or happy
The core it burns incessantly
Making us what to others we seem to be
And making our convictions a reality
Feed the core with what you care
And be what you want to be
For it is within you really of how and why
The percolated nectar or poison
Will colour you accordingly

Percolate

Mindgame

I walk silently with my mask on
I refuse to acknowledge what I see
Lest it should creep into me
And take over my dignity
Filthy eyes follow me
And their thoughts make me shiver
I try not to cry aloud and
Bite my lips because they quiver
Is it my fault that I am pretty?
Or is that they are to blame
Because the dirt is not on me
And that stare is a mind game
Every day I curse and yet go out
What must come may as well strike out
I can take that spat and turn around
But what of the filth that is growing
In the soil of minds all along

Filthy

Run Away

Why o why you can’t be mine?
I love you have always loved you
But you choose to push me away
I hold out my heart in yearning
You are mesmerized by her earring
She stands tall I know, physically
But she’s pale in my glow
I was there by your side
Even in those difficult strides
But now that the sea is smooth
You let her take over the boat
The storms I weathered for you
Don’t they mean anything?
Or is that with age you discard
The dress, like a faded fad?
Well go on be smitten with her style
How long will she stand by you?
You are growing old, too aren’t you?
That lass will soon turn on you
Her ambitions are stronger
Than your attraction and
Soon you will be a has-been
For a new story, she will write
And you will be left holding
Of what would have been might

Divergent Motherhood

images

It clasped my fingers and I woke up startled
Soothing its fears, I warmly cradled
And cocooned it in my warmth
Ever so agile and alert I was like a hawk
I shielded it from the harsh world
I guess every mother is born with the child
I watched it grow and hop and skip and laugh
Proud like every parent I nurtured and fed
And watched closely all the days spent
With it grew my aspirations, dreams I dared not
It will achieve them all my child will falter not
Agonies of the teen ages and the fears all real
Then came the moments of leaving the nest
No matter how much I prepared
My heart would still hurt
A different city will host my baby
And it will not be safe and secure
I learnt to let go then I suddenly broke
I kept mumbling they told me later
Please do not take my baby away
I cried for days and felt the emptiness
Don’t call it a fetus, it’s not just that
It was my child a living entity
Even if it was unborn it was still alive
I felt the heartbeat and lived it
Within me all the months
My reverie broken and blood
Washed away my tears
I was left on the point of
Emptiness and depression

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