RSS Feed

Tag Archives: song

“How people live” – Nayana Nair

I sat there crying.

It hurt to know,
how people live,
how they smile,
how they could look at each other,
how they felt welcome wherever they went,
how they could sing along
and not be reminded of all the sadness
that song carried in itself.
How my desolate riverside
was their ‘beautiful view’,
their ‘venue for celebration’.

I saw it and cried
for I realized
that this life could never be mine.
I cried because I realized
something must be wrong with me
to not want this life.
I cried because I couldn’t understand
how to set things right.

“For you to disappear”- Nayana Nair

When the wind blows
there are no branches to shake,
no windows to rattle,
no forgotten clothes to be abducted from my backyard,
no ghost songs to invite me to new nightmares.
Only your imagined face,
that looks nothing like you these days,
in these lifeless eyes
keeps flickering.
Making you almost real,
making me wonder
what is the distance in time
that I must travel,
how much should I age,
how much should my mind wither,
for you to disappear?
How many sins I should commit
so that my hands are not stained
only by your tears.

“Weeds of our Garden” – Nayana Nair

We sit here all day, in our own corners.
The only corner that we could save from the world that we left.
The only piece of happiness we decided to carry on ourselves
because we didn’t wanted to be considered pitiful for clinging to something.
Because once we thought that feelings such as these are only hindrance.
Because we saw love as lint on our fine clothing,
something that should be removed like weeds from the garden of our ambition.
Believed that if we are enough, if we have enough
we can always find new friends and new love.

***

In the wind, there always used to be a rumor of someone
drunk on past, the one who used to shout and sing at midnight
songs about how nothing new he bought,
no one new he gave his heart to
could make him forget
about all those he had turned his back on.
My friend, I am afraid we have become that same person.
And we are pathetic not because we loved too much
but because we couldn’t love anyone,
not even ourselves.

“Having All” – Nayana Nair

Since the broken have got their share of songs,
now let us grieve for the ones who are complete.
who have got more than they wanted,
and have too much in their hands.
Who walk with a loneliness similar to the ones who were deprived
just without the right to complain or take pity on themselves.

. . .

Maybe it is this ‘having all’
that would become the reason of their cracks.
For in the pauses of the ones who I thought were happy,
I have often seen a wait for another life.
They find themselves wanting this struggle
that has been romanticized and exaggerated
so much that, it becomes a yearning.

. . .

They find themselves hating
this infinite stretch of perfect utopian dream
that cannot last
only because the mind that creates and wants the perfect
in trapped in a body that by nature are attracted towards disorder,
towards its own undoing.

“The More I Hear” – Nayana Nair

aesthetic-photography-tumblr-tumblr-photography-aesthetic-color-photo-image_t_2175-16

The songs buzz in my head.
It’s only your voice in that song this time
that stops me from moving away.
This noise again
that feels like love.
For I have already been acquainted with it
in another sweet disaster,
when someone told me
I was worth more than what I think of.
And many have said the same to me
when their actions told me otherwise.
And the more I hear it
the more cheaper these words become.
I can probably buy them from the same shop
that sold me self-hatred,
that sold me shame.
If I earned enough good points in your eyes
maybe then I can finally afford everything
that others have and I don’t.
Then maybe I will no longer have to live my life
ignoring the contempt in everyone’s eyes
that silently tells me that
it is my fault to be someone they do not like.

“Surrounded by Chatter” – Nayana Nair

love-yourself

With marker I scribble on the mirror
the list of complains I have from you,
not caring if they mess up my own reflection.
Sometimes thankful that under that I can hide my own
obsession with what people will think of me,
how much will they value based on the value you give me.
An obsession I cannot really admit I have.
After all I am supposed to just ask for what I want
and not what everyone tells me I should want and I should have.
But are my wants really immune from the template of dreams
that world sets apart for people like us.

0ff7edfa92925e34432720d21538d40c.jpg
When I sit surrounded by chatter
I remember how I had to seal my lips,
had to come up with stories more acceptable than
the vague transitions of my life and my heart
from one state to another.
Even if I put on songs of love and think of you
I am just presented with all that I am waiting to receive from you.
(Does that make me greedy or calculating?)
But somehow I always bring myself around to the life I must live
that would be easy to live
if I didn’t compare myself to others,
if it was easy to turn your back to the the judging eyes
especially the one being judged is not only you
but also the object of your affection.

“Unimportant” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

tumblr_ovsid6XPbW1v39h5io4_1280

This day of unimportant advancement
will probably be the one that I will first forget.
My heart will pretend to be sad
to have forgotten all the beautiful harmless days till now.
Having also forgotten
the beautiful mornings that started with the sound of
beeps and shrieks and songs of alarm
that would keep sounding if I didn’t wake up.
Sometimes I didn’t wake up
only because I couldn’t take in the silence
that rushed at me once I do.
I would forget everything once beautiful.
But thankfully I would also forget
the unpleasant realizations that followed them.

Wayward Armie

A blog on culture + finding our authentic self within it

The Wandering Armadillo

I am the "little armored one", moving gently through life. Hoping to safeguard my sensitivities with layers of words and the expression of thought. Shielding my mirror neurons at times, or tasting music and spinning till I'm dizzy. Every moment here is a gift.

sherazade2011

Con te conversando, dimentico ogni tempo e le stagioni e i loro mutamenti: tutte mi piacciono allo stesso modo. (Milton)

Evaporata

Non voglio sognare, voglio dormire.

lillian the home poet

rejuvenatement - not retirement

Fmme writes poems

This is a space for me to write, share my words and play with poetry. You are very welcome here.

Boomdeeadda

Life, Art and Other Bits

koolkosherkitchen

Welcome to my Kool Kosher Kitchen where food is fun and fun is to create food!

Mama Cormier

.... my journey to a healthy life, making new memories and so much more

Colonialist's Blog

The general journal of a normal nutter playing with words (in awful rhyme a lot of the time), music and pictures, and having the occasional rant.

A Dalectable Life

The little and large things making my life delicious!

Notes From the Hinterland

A blog about nature, home, community, books, writing, the environment, food, and rural life.

Tales for Life

Some stories just need to be told: healing and wholeness in everyday life

Londonsenior

The life of an elderly Londoner and her travels.

anotherdayinparadise

Travels in Paradise

Where to next?

Riding in cars with dogs

World in your eyes

People, Years, Life in photo. Travel impressions. Daily life.

Widdershins Worlds

WRITING LESBIAN FICTION, SCIENCE FICTION, AND FANTASY, SINCE THE 20TH CENTURY

jodie richelle

embracing my inner homemaker