Wheels

The wheels got me to another land;

rolling downhill, like rushing grains of sand

escaping my closed fist.

On the wheels balancing my weight,

holding my hand, the breeze brushing my fate,

making my way through the mist.

The wheels made me lose count

Of the streets I left behind,

glancing around with piercing eyes,

hoping, for once, life would catch my true lies

strayed in the very city mapped in my mind,

The wheels almost got me to the home

I could not find.

The wheels clacking and rumbling,

Had a voice like none I'd heard before,

A song that lifted all my anchors,

Me?

A carefree boat drifting away off shore.

Who am I meant to be?

What's in it for me?

What feels like to be free?

"Wheels, shove these questions 

choking my throat!"

The wheels heard my muted screams,

That got in the way of my smile, 

brought lightening speed 

Shooting up my spine,

Until I believed in the distant dream of 

living the picture perfect life.

The wheels got me to another land,

The wheels got me to where I stand,

The wheels are indeed my eyes to what I see,

And my feet to where I will be.

~ Kripa Sarkar

 

City of Love

It is more than what these eyes are perceiving,

it is more than what we believe in,

it is more than mere transactions 

of taking and giving,

It is truly about what and how we're sharing,

More about how we show we're caring,

It's the little things we do

that makes us daring,

it's the words we hear,

even when it's silence speaking,

it's how well you try,

and embrace the parts of me 

that are probably worth complaining,

It's about becoming one,

and not simply pairing.

it is about all the love this heart is carrying,

And more about paving a reason to live,

finding meaning,

and oh god! How your eyes make it all possible!

I am beginning to think how

You've made my life so magical,

That in this somber eve, somber for you're not near,

I am entirely smeared in the ashes of your warmth,

Stepping into every TOMOrrow,

Waking barefooted as a holy saint into your city of love.

~ Kripa Sarkar

 

who YOU are to me

 You are the silent peace of my dawn, the kind of silence that

Makes my heart float,

You're the music to my long long day, the kind of music that

Makes me miss home...

Thinking of your smile- my eyes closed- my heart 

Gets into a loop of sprints-

How did I get this lucky, to call you mine?

I wished you would, and thank god you did

On my soul your name imprint,

And catch my little twisted hints...

I want to look at you for hours, 

And never miss a glimpse- not even for a blink

You are the comforting warm rays of the sun,

To my freezing winter mornings

My pumpkin spice autumn kiss,

Reason to my ever-growing bliss,

The person I want to be with forever and never miss...

I could go on and on saying how much I love you- but 

Oh God! Where should I begin?

You are the reason I wake up everyday,

You  are the closest to heaven I'll ever make,

You are God's finest creation- I love you like this

I love you like that-

I love you in every possible way!

Tell me you're not a daydream.

Reassure me that the way I love you is exactly how you feel-

For me...

But no matter how much  try,

My conscience knows that I will always fall short of words 

To express how you make me complete-

To measure, for you, the extent of love I feel-

To SPELL: who you are to me

~ Kripa Sarkar

Let Me Cry Your Tears

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing’s worse than a helpless cry,

Sensations of a hollow heart-

No matter how much we try,

We’ll only repeat the miserable past.

No wonder I am selfish,

Yes, yes I am.

But isn’t everyone?

You need more when you have more?

Mere helpless cries won’t hold me long,

I am a selfish being- 

How unjust am I being to act sad,

When I’ve got all I need-

How can I waste my tears crying over something I want,

When I could cry your tears- tears of real meaning?

So let me cry real tears.

The tears of a feeble life going hungry to bed,

The tears of a mother who lost her child in the war,

The tears of regret a son cries in his father’s funeral,

The tears of a being, harassed somewhere in the dark,

The tears of distance two lovers cry in distress,

Let me cry your tears-

You don’t deserve this- let me feel helpless instead.

Let me cry your tears,

Tears of an orphan not finding a home,

Tears of a boy watching his parents separate in a divorce,

Tears of the fear of not knowing how you’ll pay the bills,

Tears of wandering homeless in New York’s winter chills,

Tears of hard work

Tears of heart-break

Tears of disease and tears of loss…

Let me cry your tears-

You don’t deserve this- let me cry 

irrespective of you winning or losing the toss.

I know the the pain of a helpless cry,

A pain so burning that your heart’s well runs dry,

And when it’s cold you don’t freeze- you simply die.

Let me cry your tears,

The tears of a lonely heart,

The tears of a healing scar,

The tears of the absence of you know exactly who-

The tears that,

Break

Shape 

and build 

Me and You!

They are bitter, not salty,

They make you cold in life’s heat,

They are speed bumps in your heartbeat,

They are death nurturing misery;

Don’t cry those tears when I am here-

Let me cry your tears

Let me take away your pain as long as I can

Remain a human who feels…

~ Kripa Sarkar

EXPOSED

-------------------------------------------------------  -------------------------------------------------------------------

Only my hands, neck and face are exposed

To the chilly breeze that’s blowing life out of me

In the bone cracking cold of November.

Although the sun is out- brightly posing

All across the clear blue canvas above me

I am striving to hold onto a feeling I don’t remember.

Humans scattered like ants, walking in same

Yet different directions, some are probably getting 

To their next class, others- getting nowhere…?

“Does it matter if we ever meet?

Does it matter if we don’t get to know each other?”

Oh I can’t think anymore–

I should’ve worn a scarf, my neck feels numb.

A chill runs through my spine; I feel myself involuntarily move as I shiver.

I am facing the sun, leaning against a huge cement pillar,

The sound of this paper flickering in the breeze,

My mechanical pencil bleeding off it’s life into whatever I’m writing,

Is accompanied by the crunchy fall rustle of yellow, red and orange leaves

Exposed on the sidewalks and all over the roads, and under the trees.

I’m wondering to myself- do you think you’re getting somewhere?

Why does life always have to be so uncertain?

Why do I have to  earn everything- I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth

(I know how to eat with my hands) but why?

How is everything back to normal when this suicide victim just shot himself yesterday?!

Did he ask questions to himself too?

Will I not be remembered? 

Will I ever serve the world and do something worthwhile?

I can’t help it; tears are blurring my vision,

My helpless eyelids blink and tear drops roll down my cheeks.

My tears feel warm on my cold skin,

Unlike my fears that feel freezing on my warm heart.

Why am I so secretive?

Or shall I ask, why do I have to be secretive?

Will I ever paint my dreams on my skin- expose myself to the world?

No- I won’t. Not now at least. This isn’t the best time.

I want to become someone. I have to become  “someone”

Before my decisions and behaviors can be understood and accepted.

I will wait for things to fall in place, for as long as it’ll take.

You know what I am talking about-

TOMorrow is approaching faster than you think.

And I am waiting for you, every tomorrow,

Until it’s finally that day– when I won’t let go of you.

I am not exposed unless this paper flies away and someone reads it.

So I am folding it; giving it a neat crease dividing the notebook paper exactly into half.

There is a pocket on the inside of my overcoat- it’s the one closest to my heart-

So that is where these words are going to rest, until I know for sure

I am ready to be exposed. 

~ Kripa Sarkar

--------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A recipe to Disappointment's farewell

And if you ponder long enough

On that disappointment in your heart,

You will realize you did mostly right on your part.

But you looked around when you were

Not supposed to peek,

When you encountered the brute path,

You avoided the very route you chose to seek.

You were exhausted so you

Let go off your shield-

That strike was meant to cut through,

Slit you into pieces.

 Yes. You were meant to learn to pick them up ( your pieces) 

Join them.

Feel it burn.

Glance at the scars.

Remind yourself constantly:

"Although I- and only I am responsible 

For the disappointment I bear,

Now, I am a new person, especially now; I've learnt.

I've grown. I'll do better, only better."

Then it is merely a game of patience as you watch how well

the recipe to disappointment's farewell executes.

 

What's Missing?

The lights are dim

It's almost ten,

I might slumber

But don't know when.

The streets are slow

Half moon glows mellow,

It was a good day,

So what's missing then?

My life seems planned

(Not all they way, just a little bit though)

Making the best out of every 

Falling hourglass sand.

A little bit of this,

A whole lot of that,

Some of  the "blah-blah-blah"

To fill up the gaps,

But something's missing.

What is it honestly? What's missing then?

Is it a feeling, or a tangible thing?

A person, or a deep conversation?

Some fresh air or is it just ice cream?

A nightmare or a daydream?

What's missing?

Is it, all that I have abandoned?

The emotions and reasons I can't fathom?

The distress of making mere acquaintances?

Or the sudden "true calling" instances?

What's missing?

It is a damp ache,

A monochrome opaque-

To not know what's absent,

Nevertheless- know that

Something's missing.

What's missing?

Tell me- what is missing?

 

                                        ~ Kripa Sarkar

Is there Something?

 Is there something about aimlessly 

Staring at the ceiling,

Holding on helplessly to that empty feeling,

Basking uneasily at life's horizon

Where the sun is gradually appearing-

Which is making my heart throb?

There is so much I am incapable of...

A little bit into everything, yet knowing nothing at all

More like a jack of all trades, master of none.

I see a nightmare of stairs I'm meant to climb,

Leading me into a fall...

Is there something about fearlessly dreaming

Of becoming more- way more- than who I am today,

Folding hands humbly, surrendering to

the almighty up there-

Which halts my throbbing heart?

I'll walk the way, YOU pave my path...

Is there something in ceaselessly sharing 

the nectar that I receive from your love's spring,

Moulding myself watchfully as I alter 

Into something new every time 

I encounter your grace in little bits of life-

Which nourishes my heart?

There is so much more I am made for...

There is so much more you can turn me into...

~ Kripa Sarkar

LOVE ( Haiku)

 You amaze me, love

Falling into you is like

Conquering the world.

~ Kripa Sarkar

Note: Wrote my first Haiku after a friend explained what it was. Thank you April for introducing me to this new form of writing!  

A True Rephrase?

 What is it that keeps me going,

Breaks my lips into a smile every time

I look at a new face?

Is it true that I'm borrowing,

The very strength I am trying to find,

In the haze of this crowd to feel your grace?

How much further should I be flying,

To overcome the beds of clouds that lay,

Ahead and below, around and afar

Before I can ever discover your trace? 

Why'd I tangle in the delusion that I'm

the master of my own making,

For who am I compared to you-

The artist who paints the canvas only he can erase?

Is it true that you are heard

In the silence of a fallen night?

Is it true you, are seen in the moon's silvery glaze?

Is it true that your fire gleams 

On those you put your sight?

Is it true, all pain disappears from your wholesome embrace? 

Is it true, the song that every life sings,

Is but a proof of your existence's rephrase?

~ Kripa Sarkar

Skipped

 I'll skip that part.

You don't need to know it.

You'll be just fine knowing me as much as I choose to show you,

as much as I expose.

You're already judging me from what you know,

What would you possibly do with more?

I’Il skip that part.

I don't have to prove it.

I'II be just fine knowing or not knowing you completely,

I'm aware you too won't choose to truly express yourself to me.

And if I'm being honest, I'm evaluating you, your words and your actions already

What could I possibly do with more?

I'll skip that part.

But that part will never slip out of my memories.

Every time I breathe, every time I feel, every time I try to heal:

That part will cling to me- No

Not because I'm helpless, but because I want it to cling.

I chose to skip that part from appearing into the surface-

Mind it- the surface!

I'lI skip that part.

That part where I wasn't at my best,

Perhaps I failed

Or maybe made a mistake,

Probably I let someone, something let go off my grip,

I didn't portray too much interest, or maybe overdid it altogether,

That part where I stood perplexed, bewildered,

Facing the unknown, adjusting that surface face into a genuine smile,

That part when I gulped down pages and novels of words

From spilling off the brim, I left all those words unsaid- I left them on their graves.

I'II skip that part where I lied.

Also the part where I cried,

Stayed wide awake all night,

That part when life didn't meet my expectations,

Where I knew they were way more better than me,

And I? Too less; probably nothing at all.

I'll skip that part when I experienced what it is to actually

Feel small!

I'lI skip that part when I used to crawl-

I'll display myself only when I walk, run, or stroll.

I'll skip that part where I tore apart, just so that you wouldn't fall.

I'm glad you know me.

But you should know I've skipped a lot. I've skipped a lot of parts.

For you're just the audience, and 'cause you're special,

You're the audience that applauses longer and more.

You're the audience my eyes search for :

When I start the race, run the race, touch the ribbon,

Maybe even after and before!

Yet there's a huge difference between the understanding of the audience and the runner.

I'm not only the start and finish line that you notice,

I'm not exclusively my speed,

I'm also every thing in between,

I'm every step, every breathe, every heartbeat,

Every blink and all the weight when, even for a millisecond, I'm in the air

I'm the part that's skipped, often skipped...

~ Kripa Sarkar

I feel

 I was so happy this morning.

It rained all night- and the sky was still sprinkling

The weather app gave a flood warning.

You carried a bumbershoot today,

You didn't want to get wet, just to get father 

Away.

A good grade in the US Gov test,

Made me happier - 96/100- not bad, I guess.

I fell quiet.

Now, my eyes are burning- probably it's the weather, 

maybe it's the light in the room. 

Maybe it's the changed lip-dub schedule.

My stomach grumbles, and my body aches,

As if I was in the pre-fever stage.

But I'm not.

I feel dull all of a sudden.

I hope my day goes fine. I am free of assignments- No!

I've a ton of homework over the extended weekend.

Good Friday, Saturday, Sunday, last power Monday (late start)- it's going to be long.

I'll catch up with my incomplete work.

But I'm supposed to feel free.

I'm supposed to ease, to breathe.

Yet my hands feel too tired to pen down monotonously what I feel- right now.

Feelings keep changing. But-

You won't change, would you?

Please don't change. 

If you ever do change- change for the better.

I can't afford to lose you, to miss you,

Like I miss the "happy me" from this morning.

I don't know what I feel- do you?

                                                         ~ Kripa Sarkar

Note: (April-06-2023) I wrote this poem just before lunch during my AP lit class.  A changed schedule again and I felt feverish. And yes, I did get stuck with high fever that day- in fact throughout my extended weekend I was recovering. ( This is supposed to be funny👉) If this was a text book, the question would say, " Who do you think the author is referring to as 'You' in the above line?" 

Duh! isn't that obvious. Who asks such questions?

A short escape

 It is a spring day

Chilly breeze, warm sun, bright sky-

But I still feel cold with my full sleeves on

I feel comfort as I face my back towards the sun

I quickly escaped when, today, the bell wrung

Maybe they noticed me, perhaps not- but I didn't care

I don't feel bad, it doesn't bother me if they stare

I'm good on my own,

Sitting on a bench near the flags~

Admirals, Tennessee, USA.

When I reflect back, which I often do,

I know I've walked a long way...

I turn about to face the sun,

There are trees around, but totally bare.

Not all of them though; a few seem to know it's spring,

And so they've given some effort to turn green

Two people walk across the street.

I sit alone, cherishing my escape,

A short, a small, escape- from a world where I'm supposed 

To be - It's lunch, it's loud there-

 to a stone bench father away from the

School's parking lot- it's quiet here.

But the bell will ring soon.

I better go now.

I need to return to my life which I ought to live

And not escape.

                                     ~ Kripa Sarkar

PS: (March- 28- 2023) This was a quiet day when there was a different schedule in school and none of my friends had lunch when it was lunch time on my schedule! It was a lonely lunch- but I'm glad I wrote this poem... 

A NOBODY

It is  a mere reflection 

Of what you possess,

That haunts you 

When you ought to assess~

Who you are.

I was perplexed when asked,

"Who are you?"

When I said "nobody",

It didn't seem to suffice

Their faces in dark disappointment,

Rebuilt instantaneously quiet;

It struck me upon revealing myself,

I have to pay a price.

I mimicked the caterpillar on the leaf,

Consuming what I found,

I enclosed myself in the quest of relief

The tragedy being- I knew

I could never turn into a butterfly...

Anyway, I cocooned myself,

Did I have a choice?  

An abrupt whisper filled the hall,

The have lot more to say, I thought

Whispers modified to echoes in my mind,

My pulse rapidly increased, pacing ahead of time

To get away, I looked around for an aperture,

Alas when I found none, I glanced at them

In terror!

Sharp breathing, blurred vision

Palpitating, I caught my head in my hands!

Shut my eyes with such might 

That even the brightness of heaven 

Would fail to unfold them.

Heat filled up my cocoon,

The echoes of their demands

Vibrated- moved its walls!

Lo! I heard a crisp melody, 

A crack- and another,

A-and another crack!

I didn't feel my weight,

Was I floating?

I hesitantly opened my eyes.

I was flying! I am flying!

I heard something-

Some voices in the distance...

I chose not to be bothered,

After all I am a nobody

Who can fly...!

                            ~ Kripa Sarkar

PS: I wrote this poem on March-12-2023 for my school's poetry slam competition. I wrote this poem in the trial of expressing my views on how it is perfectly alright to be a nobody, because that's what we truly are ( you'll know if you closely look at yourself). The question " Who are you" still perplexes me- but now I have a confident answer- A nobody

God! I'm Insane!

Because I know you are listening to my whispers,

You are listening to the conversations I have with myself,

And no, I am not not mad, that you know very well.

But you choose not to respond- never to respond.

Who knows what mystery lies in your words, that they never happen to reach me.

I only hope you can hear me,

If not, then call me a lunatic,

I've spoken hours to frames and idols,

Knowing you are somewhere there,

Believing you will now appear!

Alas! Appeared you never.

I have lost it all now,

You've left me with nothing to gain,

Yet to you I've come, again, yes- again.

Not once have you given me love,

Not once a word of care,

You've solely staired, to what and where?

Not at me, I know that.

Or maybe you did!

Why still do I share with you my pain,

Speaking with you for so long, I'm insane!

Dear Joy,

 I've searched for you everywhere-

Across the sky when today the day arose,

In the grassland afar, visible from my window,

In the sent of a wild rose,

In the depth of the footprints of an ant,

In the words of a poem that didn't rhyme,

In the faint song of some windchime,

Did I find you?

I've searched you in those eyes,

In my heart and behind that smile,

Between the distance that remains, which I dislike,

Atop my tear wetted pillows, love in disguise,

In the silence and the absence of the night,

Beyond the presence and the ignorance of daylight,

Past the words meant, yet left untold

Like a marked page left forgotten to unfold,

Did I find you?

Alas! I found but misery,

Grief decorating itself, repeating history.

I cried when I saw them- those scars,

On their faces and in their hearts,

Which were someday fresh wounds-

So deeply slashed that the red won't stop,

So warm that it would burn a whole lot...

With some aid the cuts were tied,

Did less pain that confide?

Where were you then, why did you shy?

Tell me Joy.

Tell me, why?

                                                         ~ Kripa Sarkar