Pens and Pages

It’s funny how one’s life goes through highs and lows But we put some kohl and brush our brows. We someday realize we have no one but foes; So we sit back to paint the nails on our fingers and toes. For that might be the way one can drop that frown, To let not the world and its people pull you down, For I can see my life all blue- the hue I dread But I can change my hair to a better shade of red. I may wake up to find a messy work life But I can neatly braid my hair and pretend it’s all fine. I can find my job dull or whine that it’s not fair But I can take out a magic wand and curl my hair. I may cry all I can, as if I’m trapped in Medusa’s lair But tomorrow I’ll still show up with a confident flair.

I wasn't old enough When I first believed in magic. Over the years, I have learned To believe in it, Even more. Believe that doors will open, Or at least, a window will do; Believe the bars will be shattered, Or at least, they will melt The way blocks of ice-cream do. I wasn't old enough, When I first saw magic, In a stranger's smile, In a bar of chocolate Handed to me out of the blue. Over the years, I have seen Magic still lingering around me. I have believed in magic, I still do. The way I stumble and fall, The day when things can't go more wrong, The way it's all good again, Faint smiles And the tears I wipe. And I still see magic Before I go to sleep The way the bird near my window Probably smiles with its weird beak. And everyday I wake up, The bird awaits my call, It flies away As I take my morning stroll. Gestures of kindness And the humble people I meet, I believe there is magic, At every step, in every deed. I am old en...

From the last two days I've seen no night, No darkness, no dusk, no rains, no blight. My orchard's flowers seem to shine bright. Birds chirp around and butterflies alight. Grandmother's woven the sweater, at last, of Brother's embroidered shirt's size. From the last two days I can hardly count The days of happiness I've lived in disguise. Summer ain't so hot nor have I seen Winter's chill. From the last two days, life doesn't seem so hard. No, don't bring me the stars from the sky, I'm planting sunshine in my backyard.

Of years of solitude And a final downpour, Of dreams broken And all the pieces ashore, I wondered where went that river Of all the possibilities. The pen was lying dead On a blank paper; The ink overflown Drenched my soul; I wondered if I could ever make right The massacre I left behind. I wondered if I could Ever do what's right. They told me I was a writer And that made my life.