The Premises of an Ideal Life and Additional Poetry

Poems

Naive acts
The rotund dress with blue-shaded laces
Layers and layers sinked in golden marks of graces,
With hand-made embroidery spared of any dirty traces
That might avert the wanting eyes of start-struck faces;
The satin cloth bewitching the entirety of my body to step inside

But looking at my dugged up pockets
I see no future of twirling and spinning-
With such thinning waists and sundered shoes;
Oblivious from such misleading thoughts,
I start limping to the store’s crowded display;

Blue, brown, dark and white hair
Become a palette of hues giving an absence of air;
They all glare, stare and gape at my barefoot feet with no care;
As if they were British heirs,
Giving me no fair chance to plead for cash

Separated from the multitude of people, 
A farfetched woman is guarding a rectangular box
That is entrusted in intertwined ribbons,
And hands it to me with the expression of a broken clock,
An old body in disuse but once ago nimble

She evanesces in the speed of a Gulf Stream current
And as I open the paper-bound box,
The smell of pine trees flow through my nose-
As I unfasten the parchment paper there it is-

The majestic fabric rasp my harsh fingers;
Like an industry reviving its received litter
The material transforms my pain-
My compressed brain and scant rice grains
In freedom, in the exploration for a life-
The needful naivety in one’s days,
In one’s chase for mornings encompassed in sugar glaze.

Flavorsome Strawberry Jam
Those lakey blue eyes-
Cold with indifference as I stroll past;
Bewitching me with comfort as if I had been smacked
by the fragrance of a sweet blueberry pie-
His cheeks pomegranate-red-
And freckled like freshly picked strawberry;
The short black mane sloppy to the side;
A boy searching for unmaterialistic stories in a library-
My arms clutched in thousands of those that are set aside;

His opened mouth sends chills to my own-
Suffering of an earthquake in my folded lips,
I struggle to acknowledge my existence

But I then unfasten the girdle pinning down my liberty;
One word, two sentences, a mare of syllables-
Taken and hidden from the snoopers by the rash breeze-
Come out rushing from my before stitched mouth

His eyes widen,
Whispering to me with his endearing and pinkish caterpillar,
The boy snatches something from his woven basket
Leans in and gives me a jar stripped in black and white,
My first gifted strawberry jam-
Much more than just a syrupy spread-
A thorough symbol of exchanged passion;
Now sheltered on my memory shelves

Look at Me
There’s nothing to see here;
The hazy eyes of the family members,
Listening to barks and howls no more,
The salty and rapid tears running down their rosy cheeks
Missing the dirty and tremid paws that used to lean on their knees;

What are you doing?;
The resonating laughs of the kids,
Wrestling in scrubbing the hound’s thick soot,
How they would have cherished more
And had not thought it a bore;

Please, play with me;
The more thoughts they had
Less happiness they could get,
The only medicine to cure such sorrow
Was to find as much work as they could borrow; 

I beg you, bring me along;
As time passed, the owners became more forgetful-
Baths, dog tricks and cuddles
Turned into boyfriends and colleges-
Life continued its path and what was left
Were the recollections of lovely memories from the past.

Metamorphosis Of the World
An unfulfillment of young dreams
Guts me down to the floor-
Crashing with the same succinct beats
Of my past prospects flaking away-
Trampled dreams now in tatters
Along with clashed, useless wings;