The Rose That Dropped

Synopsis:

First of its kind from my pen, this poem is a blend of three stories (happening simultaneously) from a youth's point of view.
1. It is about him admiring a girl from the opposite side of a crossroad, with whom he has had no word in person.
2. It is a little bird's struggle to fly that the boy observes while he is standing on the other side of the road.
3. Two shops next to him a man is being accused by his wife for cheating her.

The poem is phrased in 8-paragraphs, the first 6 containing the above three listed stories in a one-time repetition. The second last para (7th para) is a blend of all three stories, trying to reach an ending. The last para beautifully summarises it.

I hope, with this basic introduction, it shall become easy for you to comprehend the composition.
Happy reading!


Title:

I couldn't think of any suitable title for this composition, for I had not thought about what to write before writing, (it just kept happening). So I give you the authority to give it a suitable title, once you finish reading it. Post it in in the comment box at the end of this page. For the time being let's call it:


The Rose That Dropped



A busy crossroad and the cacophony of passing cars,
As always she was there, so close on earth yet infinitely far like on Mars.
Her wet hair dripping water drop by drop,
So vehemently my emotions swayed the love-crop.
She would seldom look up in bits and chunks,
Her fingers penning circles and feet thumping to English punks.
It was a moment of solitude when the eyes met,
Like a dry sooting throat suddenly turning wet.


On the same building behind her a little bird was trying to fly,
Dropping and falling at every leap, yet determined to rule the sky.
It chirped and cried but stood back again,
To try another leap, it unstoppably ran.
Above it an eagle hopefully hovered and perched,
But to her defence the mother bird devotedly lurched.
Falls after falls could not break her will to fly,
Every now and then to another failure the little bird would give a try.


Two shops next to me a lady accused her husband loud and bold,
By no good means, or pleas would she stop or hold.
Their little son all bored and confused,
In the middle of a crossroad all passer-bys they amused.
With her blabbering I deciphered it was all about an extramarital affair,
His shifted priorities, an 'illegal' son, and an undecided heir.
Like the scorching sun's heat she was raging and furious,
And to know her whereabouts she was curious.


She looked up and our eyes met once again,
Once in a while, for hours at a stretch, this is how our chemistry ran.
With smiles not hinting as smiles and blushes without a swell,
Our seemingly shallow aquifer, but indeed a deep down well.
Her big white eyes, a fair face with a mole on the upper lip,
That pointed nose and the curl of hair to which I would often slip.
Sooner than usual today, she just stood up and went inside,
An all of a sudden decision, an unpredictable emotion or perhaps some wrong doing from my side.


Half an hour passed, and the mother bird now engaged in renovating the nest,
The eagle seemed missing, and the little birdie giving her best possible test.
Little flights she could now make, but yet imperfection towed her wings,
To cloud her failures, in between the mother bird so melodiously sings.
She would come to the brim again and give it a little push,
A meter's flight hardly or just a little swoosh.
She climbs back and jumps again in a cycle of repetitions,
With never falling hopes and determined resolutions.


She started crying and bursted in loud hiccups,
An observing crowd gathered in swift pick-ups.
The commotion thickened and curious onlookers kept gathering,
He kept insisting and pleading, and the child's eyes between them battering.
He went down on his knees and joined his hands,
His head bowed and rough pleas emanated from his dry glands.
Onlooking men sympathised and women loathed his circumstances,
Shattered was he like a mundane tree with no leaves and nests but only branches.


Curling her tufts with her index-finger she came out once again,
Perched to the rail and with her eyes on me she down-poured a torrent of dry-rain.
I was still buoyant and mesmerised, and she dropped down a red rose,
Smilingly she turned back and walked away but my heart froze.
Amidst the muffled chirrups, a pair of wings fluttered,
The little bird flew unceasingly and a victory praise its mother uttered.
In an overwhelming state the lady wiped her husband's tears,
His eyes spoke of forgiveness and her emotional smile neutralised his fears.


She looked at me with a stealing glance as I picked up her first gift,
High in the sky the bird flew, swaying and swift.
He hugged her wife back and the crowd dispersed,
He laughed loudly when in his ears something she whispered.



Thank you:

I hope you enjoyed reading it, so just take out a moment to put in a comment below. :)

The girl that teased

A step at a time on a cold winter road,
I walked in slow gaits, even and odd.
Low was visibility, and temperature perhaps 8℃,
From the fog emmerged a beautiful face, oval and gracious.
Blue eyes, glistening teeth and dimples dug deep,
So captivating was her appearance, that an instant gratification of happiness I could reap.

When our eyes met we refused to look away,
All senses alert, in the foggy wind's grey.
Her eyes squinted and broadened, and the lips arched,
Like a hypnotised kid, I glared and glared.
The steps slowed and silence grew,
All senses alert like the watching crew.

As we passed-by her dimples shot,
And touched the trenches of the heart like melting plastic passes a coal so hot.
It was like a violent slap on the guitar strings,
All chords reverberating with echos and rings.
Like bad loud drum beats, the heart shouted with each thump,
And emotions taking a leap in long-jump.

Glee was I, for she had smiled; so fragile is the human mind,
The cold didn't affect, and no worries of the 8℃ swift wind,
There was a fire raging inside, that couldn't help but arise,
A new beautiful world was all about to rise.

I turned back to see her one last time,
To see if it did actually rhyme,
She stood there with her hands on the hips,
Wide open eyes, and straight-lined lips.
She dropped her tongue out and twisted her nose,
With her thumb she pressed the tip of her nose and and swayed the remaining fingers to my dispose.

Startled was I, for that was the end of all dreams,
A castle so lovingly built, was shattered in seconds.
Like a small heartbroken child I walked away, hearing her evil laugh in echos and titters,
I crushed my teeth and pulled my sleeves, to my realisation all around was the biting cold of winters,
A step at a time on a cold winter road,
I kept walking in slow gaits, even and odd.

A Sunny December Day

A sunny day and white clouds,
Chirping birds that sing aloud.
The hitting sun and its scorching heat,
my heart flying to loving beats.

Eyes glued on passer-bys, 
One hand flipping a coin, and the other raising HI's,
Ears overhearing a silly fight,
and lips spreading an elegance so light,
Boots thumping and knuckles banging,
On a distant tree are nests hanging.

Little puppies go wandering about,
and playing boys in haste all around shout.
Corporate men soothing themselves with smoke,
Behind the trees some couples lock.

A sunny-day after so many foggy nights,
Emotions rage and heart fights,
to stand up and sing aloud,
beat the music and loudly shout.

Yet there is something that stops from within,
Perhaps the music or the heat of the open sky kiln.
It is a Sunny December day,
and surrendered to the mighty sun, I lay.

Eyes that talk

On the roadside stands, or across the street,
Sometimes from a moving bus, so lovingly they meet,
Like old acquaintances who didn't recall a name,
Or seldom like a friend with golden fame.


It has words that utter without the lips moving,
And the skin sensing each other without touching.
It is like a thousand arrows piercing,
And a hundred false hopes reeking.
So pleasant is the effect, that it isn't unfair to call it hypnotism,
A world of vitality, no wrongly called 'realism'.


A basic sense of attraction, unknowingly turning into devotion,
From just a mere spectator to an admirer, so swift is the evolution.
Then thoughts emerge, and dreams cloud,
The heart thumps, big and loud.
A smile arches and teeth glisten,
To every little speck of noise, the ears listen.


Call it a blush, or a desire to show,
It's often the only weapon to blow.
Then their are his/her friends, that stare you in the face,
Like a concerned dad, showing grace,
Who cares for them, when the goal is defined?
It is your friend, go tell "her", if you don't mind.


Then slowly they raise their head, in a blush the eyes meet again,
A limited 2-second contact and the body feels spikes of torrents of rain.
That's the end of all joys and both depart,
Around the corner, or by the last turn, into the door or behind the cart,
But for one last glimpse they'll turn around,
And see each other, for this 2-second bond.


It's now this that is most cherishing, for it's a blend of both meeting and parting,
Both take the other in memories, and slowly walk away smiling.

On the roadside stands, or across the street,
Sometimes from a moving bus, so lovingly they meet.....