Saturday, December 29, 2012

A Blissful Moment

It was a blissful moment. 

That touch of yours was pregnant 

with extraordinary triplets of "I love you." 

Far less than nine months in the making,

didn't need no C-Section to give birth,

from two sparkling first-timers. 

It was sweet music to the ears, 

both hearts beating to the same rhythm, 

following, passionately, a harmonious orchestra, 

whose members have mastered beating the keys of love. 

An everlasting moment it was,

externalizing long-buried passions, 

sharing top secrets of perfection in a human imagination. 

The Mrs. and the Mr., they later became,

and the sharing continued, only differently, 

under one roof of unbroken vows.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Saturday, December 1, 2012

The Three Conditionals!

Overwhelming is happiness, if the three work harmoniously,

governing our accidental emotions:

The "when", the "where", and the "how."

So curious you must be, asking about the "when,"

because it sets foot for eternity in its simplest and, alas, most complicated forms.

It holds time accountable, snoozes the clock, and freezes the seconds,

In desperate hopes to let love survive.

Yet curiosity raises eyebrows with the "where, incapable of calculating it,

embodying it, or even defining it.

For how in the world do two poor souls defy the circumstances,

when all the odds collaborate, spy, and ferociously seek,

to destroy existential realities?

Still the "how" is the most arduous of all.

For it blends two opponent certainties into one exhausting ambiguity,

leading to a climax of its own.

Thus is the story of fiction in its most exciting plot.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Adam & Eve

I am not a perfect imagination,
nor am I the steed-riding knight.
I am mere human, attempting to rise above
the grave fingerprints marked so graciously at night.
For though the traces still lurk behind closed doors
wired connections, and turned-off lights,
the naïve heart is still pumping blood at your lovely sight.
But still, that’s how naïve it is,
and “tough” indeed it should be,

along the passing minutes and forgotten seconds,
of attempting toughness, and sought-after “might”.

You know of weakness I am built,
seeking emotions amidst an unstable world.
You left me speechless, and speechless you had been,
following a mouthful nature, an unforgettable road.
And now you blame me, forever haunting me,
but off my shoulders, I brushed out the load.

Memories we build, and errors we need,
to fix it all, and grow on the seed.
A tip I shall give, a wise one indeed:
“never give in, or else a hurt dignity you will bleed.”

The "she" is Nested

The “she” is nested,

deeply rooted, mirrored with beauty,

and reflected in an innocent smile.

The once lost “she” has been restored,

passing through gradual evolution,

eliminating what was once a shadow of evil,

and cleansing remnants of muddy wreckage.

Thy “she” ignites a diminished inner passion,

it lingers within and without,

calling outrageously: “forgive and forget.”

It pushes, violently, for a peaceful self-reclamation,

congregating bizarre odds in thyself.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Words of Deformed Love

Words fly me away to the unknown,
where the stars sing alone,
where planets dance in empty space,
chanting to the greatness of the universe.
Indeed, a much better world it is,
where innocence is wearing immaculate white,
unviolated by the dirt of humanity,
but kept in its childish form,
for which Wordsworth sang, super-heartedly.
Love had been a childish word,

innocently carved in the core of our existence,
meaningful only to the mindful, and the heartful alike…
but thou have been tarnished,
displaced of your immaculate form,
and deformed to the utmost of deformation.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

The Downfall: Episode 6

Fate does not give excuses. But do we ever recognize that?

Sandra and George saw in themselves a deep level of understanding and commitment. It was an understanding of their differences, and a commitment towards finding a common ground. She was trying to give him a hand out of his intellectual hole. He, in his turn, started to open his heart to her and to feel an unprecedented level
of comfort towards a woman, probably for the first time in his miserable, emotionless life.

The rain started pouring non-stop. It was all a combination of romantic, scary, and unreal kind of adventure. In such a spontaneous move, Sandra held G's hand and clutched it firmly like a daughter would do to her dad. Looking surprised, George felt the woman's warmth. "Holding Sandra's hand is an experience in itself. It revives the heart, makes it jump out of place, and opens the doors for mysterious horizons. It is simply inexplicable," George was thinking.

These developments were preparing for yet another love story, an unrealistic one. Out of naivety, human beings foolishly think they can settle their differences without trouble. Even with the idea of love, they believe that they can eliminate borders, erase disparities, bring the opposites together, and live happily ever after. Well, that was not Sandra's and G's case!

As both of them were predominantly preoccupied with their intimate conversation and forecasted love affair, fate stepped in. The communication was taking place as they were crossing the street. A driver was so hurrying in his car trying to catch the diminishing glimpses of dark before dawn breaks in. He didn't notice the would-be-couple crossing the street so harmoniously. Finding them suddenly before his car, he pushed his foot for the brake pedal, but he ran the gas one instead. In just a split of a second, the car cut their harmony so haphazardly and threw them more than ten meters away.

As people started yelling and calling 911, a strange scene was in the making. George was catching what was left of his breath, trying to reach out for Sandra's hand. He didn't want to let go of this defining moment. He lay down beside the bleeding woman, caught her fingers, and sent his eagle-eye looks in a final chapter of earthly communication. She, in her concluding moments of her existence, felt the same strikingly loving and caring looks she experienced just a few minutes ago in the café. Just like it started, the eye communication was the ultimate ending. And so, their souls rose away in an act of indifference to the 911 calls.

It might have been that George was Sandra's rising climax, and she was his eventual downfall. After all, who would have thought for a second that the odds, represented so well in both of them, could mix together? There are no excuses, no reasonable circumstances, and no clear indications as to why this could happen.

And thus, humanity was spared another "unusual" love affair.

The End.

Friday, September 28, 2012

The Downfall: Episode 5

“How about we go to DuPont Circle?”

That was George taking the initiative for the first time. He was suddenly feeling an unprecedented sense of comfort with this strange but apparently attractive lady. He wasn’t a womanizer though. He used to have a hesitant attitude and didn’t quite know how to handle women.

“Sure thing. I’d be happy to take that walk,” said Sandra.

It was one of
the cold mid-January nights. Christmas already took its joyful moments away, though the streets were still decorated with lights of shining colors. The glorious sound of thunder was roaring every now and then, and the smell of rain was so refreshing that both of them didn’t want it to end. All in all, it was too good to be true, at least for George.

“So tell me, how can I help you?” Sandra asked, with the blunt curiosity of a woman in her status.

“Well, you’re probably right. I do need help. I am carrying an unspecified burden over my shoulders. It cannot be quantified or measured materially. It is an inner circle of endless pain.”

“So, what is it all about?”

“The pain is in us, human beings.”

Sandra didn’t quite understand what he was referring to. After all, who the hell cared about such a thing if they had not been either crazy or idealistic? “Idealism is such a nasty word in this material world,” Sandra thought to herself.

“Have you ever thought why the strong tortures the weak, why evil is so inborn in some people, and why we continue to prove our inability to coexist and accept our differences? Why is irrationality still ruling our judgment? Why do we follow our animalistic emotions at a time when we need to use our collective wisdom for our benefit?”

“These are indeed big questions. Believe it or not G, a woman like me does not need to think so much as long as I am able to provide for my needs and live comfortably. It is worth spending some time to contemplate over such thoughts, but I would definitely have to go crazy if I over-think it,” Sandra answered with an assuring tone, nicknaming him G in an attempt to break the ice.

“May be you’re right. I once read for a famous Arab poet:

A wise man is in his paradise tortured
and an ignorant is happily enjoying his calamity.”

As they were both preoccupied “over-thinking” the misfortunes of the world, something so shocking took place. It was probably the beginning of the end.

to be continued…

Thursday, September 27, 2012

The Downfall: Episode 4

“I thought you needed help,” said Sandra.

That was her name, easily spelled and pronounced. Not too many complications, despite the fact that she was sophisticated in her dress, her make-up, and the extravagant brands she used to pick from. She was representing an inner Paris: the capital of fashion in her own way, though French was not necessarily her favorite language. In fact, she

didn’t care much for languages. Her appearance was her only communication medium. Her external beauty was the focal point around which men of all ages and backgrounds would hover.

“Who said I needed help,” said George. His father named him after the great George Bernard Shaw. He was probably forecasting for his son a future full of writing stardom. But naturally, as is the case with all human beings, he did not expect that much of a painful future.

- “Your eyes did, so fluently and so eloquently.” Sandra answered. “What’s your name by the way?”

- “George, and no, I appreciate your offer.”

The conversation took place while the lightning and thunder were playing their harmonious symphony outside. “Through the Dark,” by KT Tunstall, was playing in the background. Just like the song was saying, Sandra felt that George needed to “feel his way through the dark.” He needed a blissful hand, an affectionate heart.

“How about we walk outside? Rain does wash the soul and grow seeds of love in a sterile land,” insisted Sandra. “We could keep walking until our legs lose strength. We could explore all of Washington until dawn breaks. D.C. is so charming at night.”

Finding the idea both relaxing and intriguing, George shoved away his hesitation and nodded acceptingly. He was in much need of something to soothe him, no matter what the cost was. His soul had been trembling lately. His romanticism was idealistic in a time when idealism and good manners had been rare treasure. So, he pulled himself together, paid for the coffee, and opened the door for a rainy adventure that was about to turn his life upside down.

to be continued...

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

The Downfall: Episode 3

She was some sort of a playgirl.

It was an inborn thing. She didn’t live it at first, nor did she feel it. She had an urgent need to communicate with men, mingle with them, listen to them, and enjoy their peeks and their naughty comments. But there was no exact definition as to what this had meant. Was it inferiority complex, or was it an endless attraction to the other sex? “Don’t

we all, women, enjoy being liked, or peeked at?” always thought she.

However, there was something special about this man. Despite his indifferent appearance, the long unshaved beard painted with tiny grey hairs, and the old-looking coat, his sharp eye contact was akin to an eagle ferociously aiming at its running prey. These looks, though sharp as they were, conveyed an endless pain. For her, he must have been one of two: a trivial moron, or a potential genius. She was leaning towards the second option. “Appearances are deceptive” is what she was thinking.

And now after the sound of thunder followed the horrific lightning, they both had to wake up. He lowered his gaze in an act of shyness or uncertainty. She, on the other hand, didn’t want to miss the opportunity. As he was about to leave the café, she grabbed her chair and sat next to him. Curiosity was killing the cat, and she was a voluptuous one. She felt an inner need to explore this man, and yes, help him. His looks were calling 911, and she was the call responder.

It might have been an unusual move, especially from a lady. After all, men are supposed to be courageous enough and take the first step. “Why is this woman harassing me? What does she want from me?” he was thinking. But she left him speechless. Her strong attitude was one that forced him to lean back on his chair and relax in an attempt to grasp the matter.

And the interesting conversation was about to start…

to be continued

Monday, September 24, 2012

The Downfall: Episode 2

Suddenly, the lightning struck violently.

They had to wake up from their short sleep. Fate had to take a move. The looks, though attractive enough, had no direction. It was like any other attraction, albeit it took a different shape, a different mode. He, indifferent as he is, was full of likewise thoughts that kept his temporary emotions at bay. “May be it wasn’t fate, necessarily,” he murmured to himself. What is a first-sight love if the odds are apparent enough? 

For him, the days he experienced back and forth working as a creative writer for a small-size agency have been tasteless. “A senseless guy, working creatively. How weird is that?” he asked himself. The only driving force that instigated his creative abilities was “pain.” As strange as this might be, it was pain that pushed him incessantly towards writing such beautiful copies. Language was a tool he used well. It was his final destination. The words were dancing in his imagination; the commas and colons were dissecting his texts and paragraphs like no other tools.

And now, having been struck by this defining moment, he stood up wanting to run away. He was escaping the idea of love itself. For him, emotions are without a meaning if not expressed by words, phrases and sentences. The eye-interaction was a first of its kind. So, as he was heading outside, something of a weird nature froze him. His legs couldn’t move. His fingers were pressing him to write something. But it wasn’t the right time, nor was it suitable to use his pen. It was time for, well, his lips to speak the unspeakable…

to be continued

Sunday, September 23, 2012

The Downfall: Episode 1

Intimate moments define affinities.

When his handsomely bluish eyes had sparked in reddish colors, the first-timer felt the instant fire. He never tried it before; never thought he would even taste it. His cold-blooded nature has overwhelmed him for the past years of his senseless life. The lips were zipped; the tongues stopped moving. Only the eyes, full as they are with affection, 
had the chemistry working efficiently. They both spoke volumes without a single utterance. They both felt paralyzed, unmoved by the surrounding events which had coincidentally brought them together to this unheard-of café. 

Sitting meters away from each other, and ordering what seemed to be a warm shelter from the romantically-rainy evening, they looked astonished. For a moment, it seemed like they met somewhere back in time. She was wearing an immaculately-clean velvet coat untouched by the flying mud of running cars on streets. He, impressed at first by the surprising cleanness of her appearance, looked considerably indifferent in comparison to a stylish lady. But the odds had worked fine to combine what we call a "displaced harmony."

In a matter of minutes, may be even seconds, the attractive exchange of looks sent constant messages that determined their entire destiny, their mutual climax, and eventual downfall.

to be continued...