Poem: TGIF Morning
A quiet week means an active weekend. Here is an exchange between me and the prolific Priya Patel. Ah, it is a Friday morning. Thank God, it is Friday. T-G-I-F, folks.
“It’s Friday morning mankind! Good vibe, Don’t Frown and let the monster see you smile!”
― Napz Cherub Pellazo
This was supposed to be a ‘social’ poem. Only Priya could spin it into Romance on a Friday morning… her Friday morning.
Poem: Contrasting Lives
As the world sleeps
Some are smiling in their dreams
Some hugging their pillows
Hiding from a demon
Little little nightmares
But safe in their bed
A warm blanket wrapped around
A roof over their head
Airconditioners or heaters on
Fire in their hearthOutside there are a few
Cleaning the streets of dust or snow
Sorting newspapers or milk for delivery
Some driving to the airport
And some driven by luxury
The beat cop keeping an eye
Warehouses and night support
Wakeful eyes without a wink
All are waiting for their turn
To start or wrap up their turns
Looking at the eastern sky
For the first rays of dawn
~ Ashok Subramanian © 2023
My poem was about the morning, but she was a different take on a ‘Friday morning’. The noise of the outside and the streets from my poem were picked up as pieces as Priya woke up.
Poem: Pieces of morning
My eyes fluttered open,
then shut again;
squeezing in a few more
moments of peace
The sounds of morning
come drifting through,
from the rush of traffic
past my bedroom window,
to my puppy whining
to be let out
The silence of the night
always broken by
the mornings shout
My eyes flutter open,
then shut again;
as I ache for a few more
moments of peace. ~Priya
Surprised by her poem complaining, I understood her hard days these days.
Ah, I thought I was the chaos
That you were running from
And the pieces of our memory
Probably nightmares
But if you were at peace
When you slept
Either I was absent
Or I was the peacemaker~Ashok
The world needs peacemakers. Poet Priya is just one. She made me one. I have never felt good before reading these beautiful verses.
You speak of chaos
like it’s a bad thing,
as if you were not the stars
in the sky that watch over me
as I sleep,
or the moonlight casting shadows
on my face
as I’m counting endless sheep;
just so you can see me smile
You speak as if you were not
the warm blanket
wrapped around my waist
or the soft pillow
cradled against my face
lulling me deeper
and deeper into sleep
You speak as if you were not
the chaos of my restless night ~Priya
And as if I needed more, which I gladly accepted, she shared another beautiful one.
I felt you today,
in the whisper of a smile
that creased my face,
as I read the syrupy
drip of your words
If I am your raindrops
in the thickest of heat,
then you are my sunshine
in the blistering cold
Together, our drops
are gold
Whisper me once more,
so that I may smile for you,
again and again and again ~ Priya
The ‘Syrupy drip’ of my words caught my attention. Let’s talk about beverages, and I wrote this.
When the golden rays of my dawn
Mixes with the colorful canvas of your dusk
It’s a cocktail of wines and mojitos
A sense of celebration without our knowledge
Just that I paused and noticed
Your words turned into morning tequila shots
And mine turned your morning espresso filled
Packaged in our words
Are the caffeine-filled motivation
And the alcohol-soaked intoxication
For we are drunk with the energy
With our well ‘versed’ ways ~Ashok
Beverages disappeared into a void, for a poem that she had written in the morning. She is the master of melancholy, isn’t she?
Poem: Emptiness
I can feel it first in your smile;
it is so clearly forced,
like the way water drips in the gutters
because there is nowhere else to go
I look at you, and there are
so many unfinished stories
just floating there in your eyes;
so many unshed tears
from locked-away cries
and I wonder often
how and when
4did we get this way
You look at me now
but your eyes are glazed
I often feel like you are living
in a saddened haze,
and that I am the one
that is blinding you
How very sad if that is true
I see your smile
and it is the emptiness
I dread the most~ © Priya Patel, May 26, 23 🕉
Emptiness can’t last forever. So, why don’t I hypothetically fill that void?
If I were —
The first rays of sunlight
When your eyes open
At the crack of dawnIf I were-
The last dream that you had
But forgot and try to remember
While rubbing your eyesIf I were-
That one little tear
That clings to you dear
Awash in your memoriesIf I were-
That short whiff of breeze
That brushes your hair
And you blossom in your smileIf I were-
That little seed of thought
That turns into a verse
And a beautiful poemIf I were-
The clock that stopped
In the hope that its pause
Can freeze our moments together forever. ~Ashok
The hypothetical substance that filled in that Friday morning void became her bright spot this Friday morning.
If you were
my first smile
as the sun rolled out,
and you were all
I could ever think about it,
then I would be as lucky
as the morning sky,
watching as the colors
highlight the horizon
then whispered on by
and I would wait anxiously
to wake up each day
And if there was a bright spot in our verses, why would I not cling to it? Why would I not be the bright smile she identified?
I would love to be your first smile.
For I become the reason for sunrise.
The morning buds open their petals
The sky blushes only to explode in colors.
The nothingness of night vanishes
Giving the hope for a fresh start
Spreading sunshine and warmth
That little curve of your lips
And your cheeks blossom bright
The stars of the night twinkle into your morning eyes
Why would I not love to be your smile?
A smile is the best thing to wear on a Friday morning.
“Fridays are the hardest in some ways: you’re so close to freedom.”
― Lauren Oliver
The freedom we got was to share our verses with each other, and we were on our way on Friday morning.
~Ashok Subramanian
