Repercussions of Being an Optimist


I love dream catchers and read fancy fables,

I am constantly willing to turn tables.

I dream of sunsets and serenades,

When nostalgia kicks in and the present fades.

My haunted heart appreciates smiles even from mannequins,

And I see helplessness in the eyes of the ones committing sins.


When I see shades of dull black and greys,

For mercy my innocent heart prays.

I gain pleasure from the fictional world,

As I sit with my book, up-curled.

I see beauty in pain and discover music in noise,

My inside is a volcano, outside – pensive and poised.


I want to know everything way too soon,

Who said inquisitiveness is a boon?

Weaving the real life into a fictional story,

I bask in the surreal glory.

In my head I take the road less taken,

All this isn’t in my sleep, you’re mistaken.


I day dream and create situations unreal,

As I give my heart the time to heal.

I know right now there is no music and dance,

But in a better time, I’d give love a chance.

Gathering gold, I am a self-proclaimed alchemist,

Dealing with the repercussions of being an optimist.


Get Me a Paperweight

Get me a paperweight…

I want to write down those memories that weigh down upon me,

Buy hand-made paper, use the most expensive pen.

I am going to write them down in the finest handwriting possible,

And if tears roll down, I am going to count till ten.


Get me a paperweight…

There is too much to carry and feelings heavy,

They will transform into a literary masterpiece.

Ornamental words, alliterations and metaphors,

All sown together in the perfect rhyme scheme.


Get me a paperweight…

I want my surrounding spick and span,

Ask the maid to boil some herbal tea and wipe my table.

Light a few incense sticks, play soothing music,

Before I sit down and transform our life to a fable.


Get me a paperweight…

I need to write not just for myself,

But the world needs to know, they’ve been waiting.

The condiments perfect, the dish is done, garnish ready,

Now I just need to take care of the plating.


Get me a paperweight…

I am going to write until, my fingers ache,

And the ink of my pen bleeds the paper.

My heavy heart is cold and blunt,

But my memory is sharp and my pen is tapered.


Get me a paperweight…

Because I don’t want my work to disappear,

I simply can’t get rid.

I don’t want to it to fly away in thin air,

Just like my feelings did.


Get me a paperweight…

And let it sit on my words,

Like the mother hen while she waits for her eggs to hatch.

Maybe they can retrieve the past,

For now, I’ve got my breath to catch.