Metaphor For A Metaphor

Metaphor: it has defined much in life. It has complicated things and yet simplified so much. Metaphor is what I hide behind when im too cowardly to be in your face and one such night, I tweeted about my love for Metaphor.
Metaphor became the soul of conversation that night. Metaphor was the flavour of that night and metaphor came screaming back to me. He made me choke up with emotion and made me poetic. And here is a poem I ended up tweeting:

Metaphor is an empty perfume bottle I remember you by,
Metaphor is a supressed old flame…
Metaphor is an old T-shirt I hold dear,
Metaphor is the warmth when Ur here.
Metaphor: that’s all I have…

Metaphor is that teardrop that fell,
Telling my heart to bid you farewell.
Metaphor is that batting eyelid,
It captures the memory before it spills…

And then, magically, the poem became interactive.

@ashumhatre: Metaphor is that stain on the old shirt, metaphor is our relationship and its dust. Metaphors : That’s all we had! ;)

And the sweetest  replies came from @baxiabhishek:
I’ll be the jeans to that tee, i’ll be there where calls thee. :)
I’ll be the tissue to wipe the tear, you called me, so i’m here.

This entire metaphor talk made me think. We don’t hide behind metaphors. We use them to enhance what we have to say. Being obvious isn’t very charming, now is it?
Metaphor gives us the license to beat around the bush and it connects two things perfectly well. There’s nothing clever about metaphor. Metaphor is just natural…

And while I’m on metaphor:
Metaphor is a friend that tells,
All, in due time, will be well.
Metaphor is a friend, who understands,
What is hidden behind your metaphors so grand.
Metaphor is a friend who knows,
Exactly how a metaphor grows…

This one’s for all you metaphor tweeters: @baxiabhishek @ashumhatre @unitechy @mriganayanika @fossiloflife @menonhari @archisM @avgs @ideasmithy @simplymalyalee @aalaap (who’s too straight-froward to use metaphor, we understand!)

Dream

You are mine,
You’ve always been.
Every night
A different scene…

You keep me going
Never let me stop
You give me hope
You give me props…

I was afraid,
Of who n what you are
But in all your vagueness
I saw sense and I saw a path

But it’s getting tiring,
My legs feel the pain.
Every night you tell me
Tomorrow will be that day

I stare at the phone,
I refresh my inbox,
‘No news is good news’,
Seems like a paradox…

Untitled

Yun hi kabhi, mere khwab zinda hote hain,

Yun hi kabhi, mere khwab zinda hote hain,
Sachai se durr mujhe mere parr le jaate hain,
Kabhi yahaan, kabhi wahan,
Ek alagsi hai khwabon ki dunia.
Mehakchipi hai
Meri hai par kho si Gayee hai.Yun hi kabhi, mere khwab zinda hote hain,

Sachai se durr mujhe mere parr le jaate hain,

Kabhi yahaan, kabhi wahan,

Ek alagsi hai khwabon ki dunia.

Mehakti hava, hariali bhari zaameen

Khelte hue ped, ek sundar si tasveer.

Yahin is tasveer mein chipi hai

Meri hai par kho si Gayee hai.

Meri taqdeer.

Letting Go…

Like a scent left lingering on,

A waft of a familiar bond,

I held on to it for all this while,

Hoping it will conjure up Ur smile…

Hanging on to the threadbare hope,

I have been walking the tight rope,

Hoping u were standing somewhere,

To catch me if I managed to fall But no,

You were gone.

It was my fantasy,

and my fault,

I’ve fallen and gotten right up,

Now I’ve learnt to stand tall…

Plathish Thoughts

A dream, a scent, an idea and emotion
Every night I scribbled with complete devotion
Your eyes your smile,
Even the slightest of your reaction…
I would sit and wait and watch,
Waiting for you to materialize
You stayed on paper, locked in a diary
Smiling as I painfully realized
Yes you were my imagination
But mine you were and I was yours
The wheels were set in motion!

Reminds me of Sylvia Plath’s ‘Mad Girl’s Love Song’ that we used in a film a while back…

I shut my eyes and the world drops dead,

I think I made you up inside my head…

Take Me There

Fumes, smoke and sweat no more,
All I see is that clear blue shore.
I beg the road to take me there,
Beyond the city and all its cares.

The traffic thins,
The roads widen,
We gather speed,
And the burden lightens

Take me my long road,
To the town that holds me close,
And with the wind caresses me,
And tells me a story seldom told

Tell me how my family was made,
Show me the love stories,
Show me the heroic tales,
Don’t ever let those precious memories fade.

Take me to the seashores,
Show me the temples,
Take me to that road
And that house ever so simple.

Take me to the very roots,
The roots that make me, Me.
Take me to the story, that defines my destiny,

Take your turns and show me the signs.
Just take me there,
And come with me.

Beyond ‘now’

Searching for a new horizon

Beyond the sea, beyond the one I see now

Painted a new colour

Scented with a new odour

Of sweat and tears

Hard days and hard nights

Proving myself yet again

A new struggle, a new future

A new present

But the past remains the same

The past is me,

The past is who I am

And what defines what I’m meant to be…

Writer’s dream

I want to write
Breaking free from the chains
That bind me down
To me

I want to float away
Far from the reach
Of these constellations
Into a land of my mind

I want to break open,
This cage of my soul,
And explore new horizons
And let the writer be born.

Born free of me,
Free to tell the stories,
Some them my own,
Carefree…

Free of my existence,
And existence of its own…
An existence without a face
An existence defined by the constellations
Of the stories I wove.

Writing

In my cave
Deep beneath the ground
I wait for inspiration to strike
Amongst the muffled sounds…
Sounds of thumping feet,
Sounds of muffled speech,
Sounds of dying music
And of the music that has died
Life reaches me
Seeping through the ground,
I don’t want it here
And in my cocoon I crouch
I dive back into my thoughts
Thinking of the music
Thinking of you, me, him, her, us and them
My heart flows to my hand,
And I bring it all alive,
Into the world of my words.

Plain Jane

I don’t have the long pretty hair,

For you to lose yourself in.

And my cheeks aren’t that fair,

That your touch would make them pink.

I don’t have those deep blue eyes,

In which you might want to drown.

I don’t have the long lashes,

To flutter up and down.

I don’t have a sweet, melodious voice,

That might melt your heart away,

I am not even a tender angel,

That in your arms could sway.

All I am is what you see,

And I am no poets dream,

No fairy tale will tell a tale,

Of the plain-Jane that is me.

I have tried hard and now,

I am tired of this game.

To be a muse, to be a woman,

I don’t want to change

Try to love my smile,

And try to love my frowns,

Try to love my crazy hair,

And my cheeks so brown.

Love me for being who I am,

Else it’s not worth the hype,

I’d rather lose your love my man,

Than be a stereotype!

 

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