A Red In The White

Hail to the mountains you said you moved,
Complain to the giant lumps of helplessness,
Proclaim those clandestine words you say to me,
Bane is not something I say I see.

Prudent and dainty, thou has called thyself;
Enlaced with the green fervent of corny nature,
Your smile emits not heaven, but hell.

Hold on to my infantile gestures;
Scold my eccentric ways, though they are unparalleled;
Gold is a heart which believes, milady;
Bold sentiments, alas, are all but a parody.

Strong and almighty, thou has called thyself;
A bewitched mirror calls out; an orderly exclaim,
The reflection poses a beauty, not brains.

Astound all the people who broke your barrier,
Found the future of false imputations, which you have;
Bound all the butterflies, deferentially, as well,
Mound my veraciousness; morals, along with, sell.

Unprecedented and disciplined, thou has called thyself;
With a tinkle of misty merriment, sometimes at most;
The truth of vice contains thee as a host.

Flame of ignition, a red in the white;
Same half hearted words, of blues;
Blame my flaw of mercenary, call out those ominous birds;
Frame my attire once again, for all I do is absurd.

Honest and liberal, thou has called thyself;
A finger at the queer, a thumb at the familiar;
The hand has been made to deny many things, should I say.

Deduce the pretence; now, today.
Educe my feelings, just this one time;
Excuse my nonchalance, for there is none;
Muse my character, let me try and be your sun.

Weak and futile, I have called myself;
Held together by rejection to perfection,
I bid thou to hear me, watch me, enjoy me;

For I am not one of them,
For I am not a lie,
For I am not heartless,
For I am not silly,
For none of those, and none of these, are me.
They are, and were, and always will be;
Words that define thee.

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12 thoughts on “A Red In The White

  1. Very well written, but written in spite…
    It is fun to wield the poetic licence’ might,
    But I hope to offer an insight,
    Into the misunderstood’s plight…

    Nobody is your better,
    For you are comparable to none but yourself,
    Many might excel, and many might not,
    That is how you train yourself…

    The person whom you write of,
    Might not be known to me…
    But safe to say that I have been in both places,
    Spiteful and spited, bitter at and been disliked…

    Being heartless, being an ass, being a bitch,
    Being mean, and being the devil…
    Haven’t we all been there, done that?
    Yes we have, and we do,
    And these are cloaks to hide, too…
    To hide who you are underneath,
    To hide the vulnerable and exploitable,
    There has to be defence…
    This is that defence, these are the walls…

    Impregnable, impenetrable, by all but a few,
    Whom we choose to let in…
    Sometimes, those inside crumble our walls,
    With at times mighty blows,
    But mostly a careless whisper,
    A smiling treachery, made us so bitter…

    So take care who you are letting in…
    Trust those whom you have tested,
    But be a person worthy of trust,
    No matter how much you fall,
    No matter who made you trip and stall,
    Get up again, move forward again,
    Screw the spite and love them all…

    Much love,
    Ojaswini

    Liked by 1 person

    • Kind of poetic, don’t you think?
      You, here, guiding me.
      Very eccentric, having stepped over the brink
      Of awkward greetings and misery.

      Queerly enough, I have a silly smile,
      Telling me it’s not so much odd (a little fray),
      Telling me to stop for it’s time
      To let a greater person light my way.

      Yes, I know all about walls,
      And bricks of gold, though.
      I know of those little stalls,
      Where my mind can be bought, or sown.

      The person who I write of, honestly,
      Is me; for I have had conversations with reflections
      And personalities, indeed of too great an anomaly,
      Slapping me with sarcasm and puns.

      I feel so giddy talking of innocence
      And talking about words with happy,
      And then turning to the night of heinous
      Schemes and thoughts too wacky.

      Ah well, I have loved and I have lost
      To a greater God, which doesn’t exist
      I swear, it is weird a notion, and it must cost
      Me in hell, for I am also trained to dismiss.

      They call me melancholy, and all that
      Shit, but you see, don’t you?
      Like you, I am a worthy of a immodest hat
      Can we please laugh (I’m a joker too.)?

      Like

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