To Do List

The night lamp was turned on.
Our photo by my side was dimly lit but visible.
Moving on thoughts got carried away.

Left arm was not searching for her.
It dabbled over the glasses and the paper
“To Maple” was completed.

The pen kissed the next paper. 
Its cruel to ask the pen to move on too.
Let the kiss last.

To keep a journal is not my way
To forget happens all day.
To the first word of every line.
To memories, that I think are now only mine.

If you find sometime.
Help me forget you, us and all this

To the hours of us doing nothing…
Ok! Stargazing, maybe.

To the Tea-Bags and the Sugar-Cubes you are really generous about.

To the Laundry Days, I need to be around and talk you through, when you worry about the coffee stain on your favourite-tee.

To the ‘Bye’, ‘I am leaving’, ‘I am seriously going’ ‘Ok! Bye’ and kicking me out after ‘Should I really go’

To Waking you up after the Old Monk 
and lying that you were not creepy after the 4th round.

To responsible discussions where we convinced each other cleverly!
And we could never convince ourselves.

To the cozy blanket, that saved us from reality and where my words were prohibited.

To the Romantic Burgers and Double-Cheese One-liners.

To all the moments I forgot and you might remind me.

Drive me there.

I would tell
I can read maps so well while you are driving us.
I don’t care about how you drive
Because, I too don’t have experience reading maps
Its autumn.

Let’s get lost one more time.
Trying to forget
And remembering things more 
is not a crime.

“Sands of Time” denote memories.
Remember the beach sand that entered your shoe and never really left.

The crushed paper was sent to where it belongs. 
The thoughts could not be sent, because 
that is where the promises belong.
And we fail trying to keep up with promises.

-just Barath

To follow the other poems of the series:
1.To Miss.Autumn
2.To my fall
3.To my St.Martins Summer
4.To Maple

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To Maple

We felt fountains of darkness flow on our bodies.
A state of challenging coldness,
Not the brain, but the mind got hypothermic.
It was a moment when love was the Only Light,
Every other second, love was that first apple.

Immortality at grasp, words became pawns.
Infinity for few seconds, all our remaining years were compensated.
Intuition was all lucy’fied.

To cafune.
To caress.
To lock.
To still.
To get out.
To live.. we decided.

It was outside the unity of time.
An A minor and an F.
An Alleregretto was overlooked and stayed away from.

It never marched to the unity of place.
This bed could have been the other side, I promised to meet her, last time.

It did not heed to the unity of action
We don’t believe in anything completely, ever.
All lasted, until the second, her hand hovered over my shoulder.
I believed in the ambiguity she was.

Electric impulses started trotting,
It was by the usual route
But, slower.

And what followed was the world’s most beautiful cliche..

This abyss
stripped us of our doubts.
What I couldn’t tell in light,
I stammered through all night.

We were lying.
We weren’t lying.

The curtains and spreads still hold on to that dark night.
They still howl it to us through the winnowing winds.

just barath

To follow the other poems of the series:
To Miss.Autumn
To my fall
To my St.Martins Summer

A person who writes #2

If only, life could be as real as a book

..

It would be so weird. Like, if it is any way lesser to weird, now.. Atleast, you would not be responsible for all the complications.

Please don’t be the lucky one who reads this post first among all other works of mine.

Disclaimer- “This is common. I am not the only person going through this It’s a common thought process that runs with my age, teenage breakdown, cut the crap, stop bitching about life, don’t be such a wiener, time to unfollow you, childish, immature” kinda post. I need to write down.

This post needs to be on the blog, as I need to look back at the things I have stoodby when I re-read it for the n’th time.

I’ve never wanted to write this way on this blog, my canvas. Making my writings, my vent of things would confuse people, firstly. That’s the reason some of my rants never make it out of my world.

I never want to get out of my fictions. my Duffer Diaries, Aval Peyar(Tamil series) or the Fall Series. But being pulled down by an invisible hand(or maybe an image I have created) I fucking lose my mind.

Reality sucks. You cannot better it out. People change, the change may not be on the lighter side for you always. Life wants to laugh at your fall. It wants you to learn, grow up. It makes you long and makes you fell desperate. It gives you few smiles and some comforting words in return for all these and completely comforts you for a short period. You play the Pharell Williams song and start walking the walk. I have some of those special people *sunshineeee*

You know what, I’ve written something similar on ‘To my fall’

“Minutes you crossed my mind,
Kept me alive to face the hours you weren’t”

Never mind.

If my blog becomes my portfolio.. maybe I’ll hide this post. But, doesn’t my employer need to know about the kid I am. Maybe I should not take this down. Let me decide that later. Or let me post so many stories *I wish* and make it go down my ladder.

As a person who writes I am sorry for such an unaligned piece of work. I’ll repost this in a better way soon.
And some poetry is coming out this weekend. Non-nonsensical stuff. Man! I am such a lazy, stupid wiener.
This be my ‘Diary of the confusive Wimpy Kid’.

I am clearly confusing you. If you are confused only a little. WELCOME TO MY WORLD, Old Sport. If you are a lot confused, don’t worry, there is always a next time. (This is my personal favorite line, an allusion to one of GVM’s recent Facebook Post). Last time, I suggested Fault in our stars, this time it is The edge of Seventeen

Well! This post is to me and the person who asks me to write something real..