The survival instinct is a curse

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© 2024 mermaidspen

Mamihlapinatapai

Eyes do meet,
in the silent plea,
no need for dialects,
a medium or the translator.
Eyes speak,
loud and clear
bold and unaware,
of what is about to
unfold.

~Kajal, Mamihlapinatapai

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© 2024 mermaidspen

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On writing and emotions

The extremes are working in my favour today. A condolence, to the passing time; a moment trapped in a second. The alphabets are confused, yet they speak for themselves. Then there are emotions. My feelings flooding the gates of my well being. A metamorphosis. An evolution.

Most of life is tied to an emotion- to a span, feeble. A moment of indecisiveness.

Here are my attempts, to write something, out of my emotions, out of the context. The heaviness of camouflage. To be something I am not. To write without feeling, failing, at being a writer. My pen struck with tragedy. There is no limit, to trying. If writing only when you are loved or falling apart, is art. Then what is this?

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I’m finding it hard to write these days. There’s too much going on so there’s not enough time to check my phone or read your wonderful works. I’ll try to get back here slowly. Happy blogging you all ♡

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© 2023 mermaidspen

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Akathisia

What positive events have taken place in your life over the past year?

I have always been a wallflower. I don’t recall having a great time in school. My college was okay because my friends just adopted me. Then came the COVID and ruined the outdoors for me beyond repair. Mind you, I’m not complaining here but my willingness to avoid everything was getting out of my hands, and for the first time I felt like I needed to go out and see a few people, for we are living in a community. So recently, I have started socializing, it took everything inside of me to prepare myself for social gatherings, to talk to people when more than 3 of them are present, but it did get better. And I have seen this change. I still need to literally prepare myself for any outing or a gathering but at least, now, it doesn’t affect me as much as it used to :))

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As always, here’s a poem for you all.

The year is about to end,
my mind, restless.
A whirlpool of emotions.
The constant urge to move,
to evolve, and grow
A never ending battle;
A battle beyond understanding.
A longing, for light
to have some peace,
peace to overcome fears
to gain control –
on a racing mind, on a pacing heart.
Time is running
and the world spinning.
In a moment,
a moment of desperation;
desperation to overcome
this Strom.
But restless is my heart,
anxious eyes,
fists curled in fear;
Fear of being denied.

Kajal, Akathisia

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© 2023 mermaidspen

Bric-a-Barc

Who are your current most favorite people?

Not people but my sister. These days I’m feeling particularly close to her, for the first time in my life. I have realised how special and important the bond we share is. We used to fight a lot, not fight fights but silly fights. Never realising the privilege we had, while being side by side. So now we are at different places and finally on the same page.

I’d encourage you all to love your siblings a little more :))

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Here’s a poem I wrote for my sister:

My sister and I are just a mere generation apart; she’s like the scent of coffee floating over a frozen sea and I, am the sea.
We walk in empty hallways in dim lights, we walk in opposite directions, precisely crossing each other once in a while; wherever the east is, Sun shall find. Neither of us likes to be seen.

Comfortable silence is our golden Sun, rarely found and hard to keep; something that can be kept but never owned. We hardly talk, not that there’s any communication gap. I like to see the youth unfold in front of me and I never try to find me in her; none of us are each other and we have so much in common, for common doesn’t mean alike.

I try to answer her ‘once in a while’ questions, which teach me something every time. She asks me for playlists and I try to break down songs for her so she can keep them all. She likes to talk about the shapes and shades of the sky; how pink blends into the black and grey, the grey of life. Me? I like the sky.

//She loves to love life and I’m looking at life loving me//

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© 2023 mermaidspen

Home; Literature

What alternative career paths have you considered or are interested in?

I so want to be a professional poet. To have all my energy invested in doing what I love and making a living out of it. I’m sure, all the writers/poets here will agree with me on this. Honestly, If I knew I could write while I was in school, I would never go with science. And I’m really interested in Literature.

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Anyways, here are 2 poems for you on the topic: Home

A haiku

Changing winds are heavy,
Crying child on a distant shore,
reminds me of home.

A rhythmic poem:

There was a girl with a golden nose ring,
left alone, on a shining swing,
with the butterflies in her eyes
there was pain in her eyes-
hard to pin point.

When I asked her about home,
she told me she was born to roam,
I thought she might cry,
but to my surprise
she just kept staring at the sky.

And made me realise-
The beauty of things untold,
a glimpse of beauty
the kind,
that never gets old.

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© 2023 mermaidspen

The Sky is Blue

The thought of bleeding
and running out of love
is what makes the pen fall still,
Even though we can always
paint the sky yellow, but the fear
that others never will.

We always look for the spring
without trying to learn
the cold beauty of snow,
Why choose the abandoned cracks to hide
for it can be a place to grow.

One day without any warning,
the Ocean will swallow
the only Earth we ought to call home,
So be proud of your heart I say,
for it is the whole universe,
let it roam.

Even when your blood dries out
or when the world turns upside down
breaking apart only painting
you ever drew,
Let your heart
have this privilege
of being your first home,
try to look up at the sky,
even if it’s blue.

~ Kajal, the Sky is Blue

© 2023 mermaidspen

Autolalia

What’s your favorite word?

This prompt took me back to the time I was new here and had a really unhealthy obsession with a few words. At that time I wrote a poem on a word (still love the word, though).Re- sharing this really precious poem of mine because not many people have read it and I would like all of you to read the poem and fall in love with the “word” just the way I did.

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Autolalia: The theological art of talking to oneself.

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Your heart was a hurricane
soul was a vast sea,
I miss the old times
when your words were free.
Layers on layers of impair
what have you become?
Let me hear this story
sit here, come?
Talk to me, tell me
Where did all of this go wrong?
I’m here to listen
even if it’s infinitely long.
You’re the closest to me
why still feel miles apart?
I know it hurts
we share the same heart.
Even in summer
your smile is cold as snow,
I never left during storms
I know, you know.
When I was painting sunsets
you were busy looking for rain,
I tried to show you spring
but you kept looking for pain.
It hurts my heart to see you
keep roaming here and there,
I yelp at your scars
but mostly cry over the tied hair.
I have always been here
please try to see,
Together we can acquire anything
I just need you, us and we.
I have lived with you
in between your screams,
cried for your laughter too.
I have always loved you in silence
because I know you.

~Me to me.

© 2023 mermaidspen

Words

How do you relax?

It’s something I don’t even have to answer. If you know me, you already know what I’m talking about. I am a huge fan of words, literally. In my free time, when in need to relax or just for fun, I turn to books. I have been an avid reader for almost 11 years now, but every time I open a book, it’s the first time. I know some (hopefully many) of you will relate to this

Earlier I used to read a lot on social platforms too but it seems like people are hardly writing and mostly are focused on promoting themselves (again, I’m not a hater of self promotion, but you know what I’m talking about). So, these days it’s just me and my books.

My current read

Feel free to tell me how you relax or what you are reading.

© 2023 mermaidspen

Material memory

Autumn is around the corner.
Rain barges in, uninvited
teasing me, lingering on the glass
The world of possibilities – worlds apart.
My kitchen smells of mangoes
stuffed with apples;
Maybe I should stop dwelling in memories.
A sparrow sings in the room,
trying to touch the sky-
A world devoid of land and roof.
Constant stimulation in the background
a day passes like a second,
every touch brings back a memory, almost photographic.
Something worse than not having a home,
is to move from one to another.


Kajal, Material memory

© 2023 mermaidspen