A List of Poems I'm Afraid to Write

On Hope

which is too fragile

a present to give.

On Life

until I have died,

I have yet to live.

On Love

for I little know

how long it shall stay.

On grief

ink, unlike tears,

can not be blinked away.

On the past

Some wounds heal

best left alone.

On the future

I fear what I'll see

looking too far into the unknown.

On grudges

and guilt; lingering

pain, anger and hate.

On regrets

and longings; on

painful twists of Fate.

On successes

and defeats; both too

delicate to be shown.

On myself -

for it scares me

to be truly, completely known.

The Tranquill Poet 🤍

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A Love Letter to un-Home

Dear un-Home, I love you. I dreamt of writing to you in eloquent, alliteration-heavy verse. Writing of smiles, of teardrops, of growth - of sweet plot twists and of not-so-sweet firsts. But words seemed to know better, much to my initial dismay - they refused to lend themselves to what I yearned to say. Sometimes, I wondered where to begin sometimes, the lines just wouldn’t rhyme. So I gave up. Because I guess, just like us, our story was meant to grow at its own time. I wanted this to be a confession of love - the kind they call “enthralling”, “poetic finesse”. But… ours was never an aesthetic story, was it? Rather, a quiet, beautiful mess… So I shall resist the temptation to drape my words in fancy embellishments I shall write, in the language of our love which to the world, may make little sense. I shall disregard conventions of ‘beginning - middle - end’ and embrace shabby, fragmented lines. I shall leave some thoughts to the language of silence and hope our love still ...

Poetry is inserting line breaks wherever you want

Poetry is writing “she’s a glacier of gorgeousness” without cringing Poetry is allowing yourself to not rhyme all the time Poetry is backspace, backspace, backspace Poetry is telling yourself it’s okay Poetry is “did I write that?” [awestruck] and Poetry is “did I write that ?” [derogatory] Poetry is pausing at this point; and contemplating abandonment Poetry is mundanity draped in fancy words concealing languor; Poetry is sentences a dorned by a lliterations Poetry is love, anger, pain, joy Poetry is cliche Poetry is carelessly tied strands of hair Poetry is bite marks on the tip of the pen Poetry is using the word ‘strands’ simply because of its visual imagery value (and hence exceeding word limit) Poetry is romanticising everything Poetry is pausing again at this point; and contemplating deletion Poetry is learning to embrace the mess Poetry is falling in love with the process Poetry is, on many levels, “beautifulness” Poetry is forgetting a perfect rhyme in half a minu...

Love is why I can write poems that don't always rhyme

Love is why I am prettier in the pictures with her Love is why I love the rain more when we get drenched together Love is why I delete texts; Love is why I send 16-minute voice notes. Love is why I developed courage to experiment with ice cream; and Love is why I love listening at 2AM to her Midnight Library-esque movie dream. Love is why I have reasons to be thankful at the end of every day Love is why I know the bliss of having someone for whom to pray Love is why I am able to plod through the quiet, and amidst the chaos Love is why I know the line “my soul is on tiptoes looking for yours”. Love is why I have no qualms about being my own first draft Love is why I now allow myself second drafts - at life and at my craft. Love is why the past and future hurt less in her presence; Love is why she knows I wish God took CBD’s writing lessons. Love is why I’ve ever cried for someone that is not me Love is why I’m reminded of her when I read Sally Rooney. Love is why I always exceed the wor...

tranQUILLity 🤍

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