Tag: love

Poems

The Almighty’s Curse

The Little Mermaid

Another day sinks in as it gets dark and cold
An insufferable grief I continue to withhold
trembling in the bloodthirsty rain
with hardly anyone to notice my wounded vein
They usually go in big cars, splashing mud all over me
and oftentimes injuring my knee

I look up to the sky and cry at the Almighty’s curse
doomed to live in a wicked land and to bear the atrocity of the universe
Famished I dig for food in the trash
but they throw stones with no mercy at my feeble body in a flash
So much hatred, so much insensitivity
when all I seek in them is divinity

I am ridden with fleas, living as a stray
I wonder where I did wrong when I see my friends play
Born in a graveyard with a gloomy fate
I drown in boundless rejection everyday, isolate
Do they realise that I can feel?
all the pain and solitude of this ordeal

A stranger passes by
Would this one care to listen to my plea, or like others, would he leave me to die?
Oh Supreme Being
How do I tell you that no one is more grateful for kindness than my loving soul?
How do I tell you that I am lonely in this deserted hole?
Oh Beloved Human
How do I tell you that I am weak and ailing?
Don’t you see it in my eyes, that I am not lying?

I promise to love you during the harshest autumn of your life
to protect you foremost in a strife
I promise I’ll try to be good
I won’t chew your shoe and I will do as I should
I promise to rest at your feet when you find it hard to sleep
and to stand by you when you weep

My sadness has taken its toll
Is this lifelong banishment my bleak dole?
Dear Stranger, please stay awhile
don’t turn away, give me a warm smile
I am scared of society’s norm
Please, would you take me home?


*Photo borrowed from Google

Dear lovely readers,

On a side note, let me add a few words to this poem which I dedicate to my seven months old baby, Oscar. He’s an absolute joy and a blessing to my life, that spoilt little brat and I wouldn’t trade him for anything in this world. Sometimes, in the middle of our cuddles I just lay back and wonder how lucky my boy is to have a caring home. And it eventually breaks my heart when I think of the thousands of dogs out there, just roaming around here and there, in a perennial search of love, of food and a roof. Don’t they equally deserve our affection? Don’t they deserve our warmth? 
In all honesty, I support the adoption of stray dogs. So many people buy expensive breed ones perceiving them to be better protectors or companions. But don’t stray dogs have a heart as faithful as the former? 

Let us please adopt rescue dogs to give them a new beginning. Those poor, but quite ironically rich souls need us. Remember! Dogs are simply angels in disguise, for when spelt backwards, Dog is God!

Poems

Do Clipped Wings Grow Back?

The Little Mermaid

You say that you love me
One moment I am flawless
but the next worthless
I am sick
of your lies unceasing
denials never-ending
My skin cracks and pales
paranoid
Your face elates
at my mocked sentiments
and body void
If this be love
let me be unloved

I feel trapped
in your world
like a prisoner caged
ripped and torn apart
Why do your words pierce?
Why is your love fierce?
draining the life out of me
until I am shattered
that I can take it no more
and I crawl back to you
Hold on they say
faith and hope will endure
But for how long
when everything is obscure?
I am a bird whose wings have been clipped
Do clipped wings grow back?

*Image borrowed from Google

Poems

Daddy’s Little Girl

The Little Mermaid

A delightful cherub, a treasured angel, a ray of sunshine
Eyes full of mischief, puckishly running around the umbrella pine
Jolly in a perfect world of magic and miracle of mine
At six, I neither care to draw the line
Nor bother to define time.

Whoop! Daddy’s little girl I am, his princess too
With excitement my feet quiver as he looks at me and shouts “You-hoo”
“Cutie pie, bring me my shoe!”
Tickled pink I become when he rubs my head with shampoo
And he brings me to the zoo
Hand in hand, to admire the kangaroo
Along with the woodland caribou
How much I love him, how much I adore him, I’m telling you
If only Daddy knew
Of my heart’s untamed hullabaloo.

Every morning I hurry to tie his half windsor knot
In seventh heaven I be for this jackpot
Smelling of aromatic Bleu de Chanel he bought
Tut-tut! Daddy wants just the teapot
Does he even long for my touch? I waver on second thought.

Sneaking into his bed with all my might
I swear I am on cloud nine in the sweetness and the moonlight
Down here, my little bud is on a high and it feels alright
In the strong arms of my white knight
But so cold he is, as usual without appetite
Shh! Cruel Momma’s in sight
Goodnight. 

For long I waited for it-a signal, a sign, an indication
It never arrived, it never will, ’cause everything is self-deception
More so, an illusion
Do I live in a fool’s paradise? I shudder in rumination
I sense fear, guilt and sin creep in with my destruction
Stifled, smothered and suppressed, I silently witness my desires’ annihilation
As they burn till nothing but ash is left at the dawn of realization
Daddy’s little girl I shall forever remain, is my final decision.


*Image borrowed from Google

Heya beautiful bloggers!

Since you’ve enjoyed my short poem (well I guess, hopefully you did), I’d like to explain to you its central theme, which as you correctly identified, yaay, is the Electra Complex. Developed by Sigmund Freud, the Electra Complex is a girl’s psychosexual competition with her mother for possession of her father. In the course of her psychosexual development, it occurs in the third—phallic stage (ages 3–6)—of the five psychosexual development stages: (i) the Oral, (ii) the Anal, (iii) the Phallic, (iv) the Latent, and (v) the Genital.

This conflict normally resolves when the child finally identifies with the same-sex parent and employs the defence mechanism of displacement to shift the object of her sexual desires from her father to men in general. It is just a game of the id, ego and superego. Though it might not fall into our pattern of political correctness, the Electra Complex is much of a realness in reality and through my poem, I have modestly tried to explore this not much talked about subject.

Wish you a good read!

Quotes

Mother-Daughter Relationship

The Little Mermaid

“The exceptional bond between a daughter and a mother is beyond compare. During her tender years, the little girl is just a daughter to her mother. Then, they become best friends. Ultimately, as the mother eases into dotage, the role is reversed with the daughter assuming a maternal figure for the former.”

–The Little Mermaid, MMXVI

Poems

How

The Little Mermaid

How would you value love if you have never been heartbroken?
How would you create light if you have never lived downtrodden?

How would you treasure friendship if you have never travelled the path of loneliness?
How would you feel grateful for your food if you have never slept on an empty stomach hopeless?

How would you be thankful for each day unfurled if you have never kissed near-death pain?
How would you make time for the great if you have never paused for life’s mundane?

How would you cherish memories in old days if you have never dared to build them now?
How would you reach the zenith of success if you have never touched the pit of failure slough?

How would you learn if you have never let the strings of your imagination wander?
How, just how, would you believe in the power of dreams if you have never sailed away from the safe harbour a little bolder?

My message to you:

Deal with life as it comes-with grace and courage.

Live. Breathe. Reflect. And take chances.

Short Stories

A Taste Of The Forbidden Fruit (Part II)

The Little Mermaid

“Do you like wine, love?”, Paul mumbled succintly and teasingly in her ear in a deep, gentle voice that educed an aristocratic tender masculinity.

“Pardon me?” Esther replied, confused and beguiled; quite oblivious of where the conversation was going, but so conscious of her large bust brushing against his broad chest in that moment. She felt a tingling sensation down there. Esther drew a quick breath to regain her composure.

“Have you ever tasted red French wine?” He simpered again, crookedly.

“Er..I suppose, yes”, she answered huskily, obviously not wanting to disturb the strange, thrilling atmosphere between them.

A long speech on the world’s best French wines ensued.

“French wines are one of the choicest wines available on the market. Especially those made from Shiraz from France’s Rhone Valley. A red French wine, darling, is bright to look at, it is noble in character and it feels intense, concentrated, deep..It possesses elegance.”

“I see…” Esther responded, while she continued to stare in this charming stranger’s eyes, delving in the profundity of his thoughts to figure out what he was really talking about; for nothing, categorically nothing, but him, made sense to her.

“You are like French wine, my dear. Young, yet so ripe. Bold, yet so supple. Sparkling, yet so balanced. You’re so beautiful.”

At that point, Paul got goosebumps. Something inside him shuddered. His arms slipped to her waist and tightened around her. Then he drew her closer. Her fragrance was just as commanding as she was-smelling a mixture of sweet jasmine and salted vanilla. He gazed down at those slumberous eyes and parted bee-stung lips in the dim light. Esther reflexly knew this tempting inveigler was in control. Hitherto, he was.

“That if I kissed you..” She waited, but he never finished the sentence. Her eyes closed, and she softened in his arms.

He leaned in and brushed his raw lips across hers, testing the delicate skin, absorbing the heat. He amended next, playfully, pausing, puckering, nibbling on her moist lips for a single heartbeat. This roused Esther because at that instant, she desperately needed more-she needed him, wild and consuming. Now this was torture.

Just when he touched her lower lip with his tongue, Paul felt his penis stiffen as it pressed against her. Then he opened his mouth again, angled his head, captured her full lips and sealed them together in a fusion of heat and pent-up passion. She instinctively came up on her toes, and he settled his arm more firmly around her tiny waist, pulling her vehemently against his tension-filled body. His fingers tangled in her hair as he kissed her longer, harder, deeper. She thrust her tongue inside his mouth and explored every secret corner. In a matter of seconds, they were soul-kissing voraciously; completely in sync with each other. For that short lascivious period of time, there was no beginning. There was no end. Only one thing mattered in the universe. That kiss.

“Give me your tongue”, breathed Esther, suggestively when they slightly parted for air. And she started sucking on his tongue gently, in and out of her mouth as she cupped his chiseled face with both hands and he squeezed her peachy bottom.

The kiss went on-occasionally changing from light and frisky to unyielding and serious. Paul swore his damsel not only looked like French wine, but she tasted like one too; and that his thirst would never be satiated for an eternity. He kissed her neck. She tipped her head back and gave him free access, biting down her lower lip. He spread his legs, pulling her tight into the vee. His fingertips-strong, calloused and erotic tightened on her sore nipples; and shock waves ricocheted between her thighs. It was so good. So incredibly, unbelievably good.

They wanted each other. Naked. As one energy. But good things seldom last long. Realization dawned. Esther instantly pulled away. Without thinking, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her, into the unknown, but at least in her mind she was going far away from this man.

Hunger knows no moral.
Lust knows no boundary.
Basic instincts drive us into animals.
And animals know no sin. 

Esther seemed to pacify her obstinate heart, trying hard to forget the face of that stranger. Alas! He was no stranger. Paul was her soulmate. And she just lost her soulmate.

 

(The End)

*Image borrowed from Google

Short Stories

A Taste Of The Forbidden Fruit (Part I) 

The Little Mermaid

Evening lulled the reticent sun into sinking lower in the sky. Paul, who was already jaded after the mindless commotions of the party was too content to finally heave a sigh of relief as he hurriedly set off to take a peaceful riverside amble, barefoot on the cold, soft grass. The air was damp. He felt as free and alive as he could ever remember. Paul was really enjoying his much needed vacations on the island.

As he sauntered leisurely down the lane, mentally planning some upcoming trips, his visionary artistic flair did not miss the vague silhouette he noticed in front of him. Picked by curiosity, he approached further in its direction only to discover that it was actually the silhouette of a woman. A rather gorgeous woman. Paul, who was now just a few yards away from her could exclusively see her back. Pity! Dressed in a casual ankle-length white dress on which there lay many specks of beautiful black stars; the woman was leaning far over the wooden fence, facing the river. The dress was perfect. It hugged her hourglass figure marvellously, accentuating her narrow waistline and exquisitely round-shaped arse. A shiver of arousal ran through him as he kinkily imagined feeling the tauntness of those fine cheeks on him. Her body spelt of summer holidays, which all the more convinced his unfailing intuition she was a native.

No French mistress could compare to thy erstwhile beauty, mine Lady,
Lucky must be that she’r fabric f’r it caresses thy exotic skin incony.
Bless’d be the stars f’r they beholdeth thy sight,
I beseech thou to stayeth still, Oh Night.
Thee liketh the sweet f’rbidden fruit,
The m’re we art denied, the m’re we desire absolute.
But then, what is the ruleth f’r forbidden fruits?

He murmured, as he gazed in admiration at her attractive frame. Little did Paul realise that the whispers of his racing heart would echo into the placid stillness of the place. Slowly, she turned to face him. Their eyes met.

Paul momentarily sucked in a breath because she looked utterly…not quite beautiful, since the term implied a set of criteria which needed to be filled and her looks were much too distinctive for that. But she had a definite head-turning quality that was almost difficult to define. Stunning, perhaps? And irresistible too. Bottomless. Divine. Esther was an ideally volumptuous made-up woman with big, lustful eyes, brows that were beautifully contoured and arched and with a long pointed nose. But that mouth and those lips? Made for kissing and for oral sex. Her long, wavy, black glorious hair complemented her flawless fair skin complexion. She wore no jewellery, no make-up-as if any was even needed for this youthful Venus surely brought up on nothing stronger than milk and honey. His gaze subconsciously shifted to her generous bosom, but he quickly blinked his way back to her eyes. Esther was perfection, yet intimidation. She exuded a whimsical air of mystery that somehow made her more alluring.

Paul gallantly advanced closer to her, and she felt her full breasts tighten for a split second beneath the garments she wore. Esther was already being serenaded by this tall, magnetic debonair gentleman. He was styled in a plain navy blue long-sleeved shirt that was carefully tucked up to his elbows with a pair of dark, tailored slim-fit trousers. To complete the effortless fashion ensemble, he wore a luxurious watch which immediately made her think of those foreign brands- something like Bvlgari, Cartier or Tiffany & Co. The stoically built, lean man seemed more than twice her age with the pensive look on his handsome face, those golden soulful eyes that furtively probed every part of her body and with that soft deceptively charming smirk on his inviting lips. Paul had a few strands of silver hair, atypically evocative of wisdom, sophistication and confidence. It sent shivers down her spine just meditating on how powerful this man’s calm presence could be. She blushed a thousand shades of crimson. This was bad, but in such a good way.

 

(To be continued…)

*Image borrowed from Google

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