To be a child again: A poem

I would sit here forever, if I could go back to the childhood I had lost
To the little joys that were heaven and the ones that haunted like ghosts
I would go back again and be unaware of the injustices our world host
But this dream I would never fulfil and so I throw it by the rocks

I wish to view the world again, my innocence will be my dock
A little girl can keep her sadness hidden, smile will be my cloak
I shall never wonder about the time or the many looming clocks
I would just go on slowly and slowly away with the worldly flow

I used to make paper aeroplanes and fly them high but not up to the sky
When misery came to knock at my door, I used to silently cry
Nothing pained me more than saying momentary goodbyes
To those I loved dearly and the ones I would never see another time

I still remember the days when everything was gold and nice
When everything you wished for came with no price
When everything you wanted was happiness and good smiles
If I could get my childhood again I will walk miles and miles

I want back those days when the Russian tales shaped my world
When my grandma’s soft voice telling tales was the only thing I heard
Those days when I picked up the old dusty books and the pages turned
Words were my best friends and taught me everything I learned

-Jan @jahnavigouri

Childhood is a fleeting time, indeed. Isn’t it?

This poem was written as a response for the poetry completion 2023 hosted by Write the world.

The lady I’d never meet

It was a cloudy day and the sun had long since dissappeared. Me and my best friend decided to have a car ride to the beach. We loved beaches so much and was excited when my cousins who had just arrived from London, two days back offered to come with us. Issac and Annette were twins who displayed outrageous behaviour in my grandma’s sense of words but we did not turn down their wish to accompany us. Hence we got into our car with my best friend offering to drive this time.

The twins eagerly took the seat behind us and promised to behave to our grandma who expressed deep concern. As the music from the radio blasted Issac and Annette started to sing with it and I decided to look out the window and find joy in the sightseeing unlike my friend who decided to grumble about it.

My grandma lived in a countryside and riding through countrysides always gave immense peace to my mind. And it was not just me who shared the thought but even Issac and Annette took the joy to stop their singing once in a while and remark with ‘ooooh’ and ‘Wows’ to everything they spotted in the countryside.

During this time, I took joy in watching the cloudy sky washing away any signs of rain and it was then that I was suddenly called away from the sky to look at a lady nobly dressed in a polka dot dress. The lady was wearing a huge hat that I could not see her face. When I passed her by I thought how there were about no chances I would ever met her again and how maybe I would never see the face behind that hat, like ever. This made me wonder about the uncertanity and mystery that surrounds life itself like a cloak. This was the very thought I pondered over in my mind till me, my friend and my little cousins reached the beach.

-Jan @jahnavigouri

Hi, readers! How are you all doing? This is the first time I am trying my hands at creative non-fiction. I would really like to hear what you think about it in the comments below and also tell me have you ever had such sudden moments when the reality of the world around you came tumbling upon you? See you again in my next post ♥️

Card board people: A poem

Card board people make their way to me
And tell me about their lovely life
About how they’re everything I never will be
Their words come as draggers and knife
I wonder, how they are always so happy and free
When I am in pain and another plight
Their life is like this row of paper trees
Cut out fine but are they ever alive

I walk back home with a wretched mind
Thinking about everything I never will have
Card board people is one of their kind
To make me feel like a nothing in the sand
Their worlds are something I won’t find
Somewhere I would never land
I think so and in sleep I would cry
And wish for things I wanted so hard

Now I stay away from card board people
And their ‘make you feel bitter’ wand
I don’t want them again to peep in
To my life and make me feel all so sad

-Jan @jahnavigouri

Garden of lost thoughts: A poem

A garden of lost thoughts, I now guard
They want to get out and it is so hard
To keep them down and call them unsmart
To pretend I hate them and cry at last

I try to hold them but away they dart
To a place where pretence could not last
I cage them so they won’t have to start
A story of something lost in the past

Pictures of happiness they draw in my mind
When world bides for the cruel and unkind
Footsteps of a time when I tainted my side
And fled from good and told many lies

These thoughts roam my streets all tied
They jump and dance but they won’t rhyme
If I let them out, they walk me back in time
To days when I was hurt and said I’m fine

-Jan @jahnavigouri

The lost me: A poem

I have long since forgotten who I was
And the tales of the old that kept me smart
The bridges made for me by loving hands
The one that is broken and buried in sand

I walk back the land to search for the lost
Everything that was me that is now all tossed
To a death so quick and a mystery not old
A box made so tiny and hard to hold

I walk on the waters to feel the new breeze
That has kept me awake on nights and still it freeze
My mind so young but harden by the tease
That has aged like those ancient trees

The life I have jumped into wasn’t right for me
It screams and echoes like a turning sea
I escaped its grasp but not long to see
The hope in the corner waiting by the the trees

-Jan @jahnavigouri13

As war raged: A poem

The sky slowly brought darkness
My mind a turning sea
I walked looking for a quietness
But found my life too deep
Leaving my homeland as war raged
The dark enveloping my heart
I asked, “Will this ever stop?”
Silence answered me

My country turned to ashes
As soldiers paraded into streets
Beauty turned to blackness
As bombs rang as the greets
Children becoming homeless
In time too short to treat
My only hope in this hopeless
Is that the sun still rises in the east

-Jan @jahnavigouri

A day by the sea: A poem

The water rushing between my feet
The sea sings for echoes to leap
I watch the sun go back to its sleep
And awaiting the moon we breathe

The night blooms up from the deep
The turmoil of the day, it gently sweeps
The voice of the waves, slowly speaks
Dreams of bliss and tear-shed weeks

-Jan @jahnavigouri

Life’s play: A poem

The path I wanted is now broken by half
When people hear my dreams they only laugh
I wish to come first but I became the last
I am wounded and broken, escaping fast

What would I do, I am alone in the dark
I am trapped in a cage, and approach the sharks
I revise and revise, walking down the park
Just to forget everything in a lightning flash

New days unravel fresh new tasks
I have no friends, I run with the rats
Working so hard to be called not smart
Falling to the moon and crushed to the ash

Life is hard but a sweet little thing
I grap on its hand with all my might
I would have to go on, even with no gifts
So let’s run around and fly in its wings

-Jan @jahnavigouri

Rug by the door: A poem

It feels nothing special to be a rug by the door
To have people step on you as they come then go
Come water or rain you leave me right outside
I will take your greatest messes all and every time

It is nice to always stay down in the floor
I get to watch the world in all, but gold
I would pretend I am deaf every time you lie
And keep my dark eyes always towards the sky

I always hear your whispers when they’re gone
How you really wished they were away in bones
I now do think I am lucky to be a rug by the door
Than be a human who change at every door

-Jan @jahnavigouri

The Strange Tea Shop

There was once a tea shop at 18 Zavian Street, which sold memories. The memories were held together in white crystal bottles and written over them with black ink was the year they were from. There were memories from as back as 100 BCEs and memories as new as from yesterday. The tea shop was manned by a huge old man named Albert Dunning.

Little was known about Albert Dunning to the people of 18 Zavian Street. Nobody knew where he came from and when he started the shop. As long as anyone living in the street can remember, the tea shop was always there, waiting for new customers in the morning with its opened red doors and at night closed with a huge sign that read ‘Closed‘ hanging over its door. People came to the tea shop from all far away places to get their hands on new memories.

Albert Dunning made the memory tea himself for everyone. First he would make the tea which is the simplest part of the process; and then he would take a crystal bottle from one of his tall shelves. Nobody can decide which memory he will pour out on their tea. Some people had enjoyed one of their best memories in his shop, but some were disappointed by the memories he put in, but they still came back to his shop hoping he would give them a good memory one day.

One fine day, say the 29th of September the residents of 18 Zavian Street went to the corner of the street as always in the morning to enjoy a warm cup of memory tea. But the people are said to have stood before the tea shop (what used to be the tea shop) in shock. They were bewildered as they realized the tea shop was no longer there and it was as if it had disappeared into the air.

Nobody saw Albert Dunning after that, but stories about him and his strange tea shop are still passed between the people and the occasional travelers who came to the street, who always wonder how someone can sell memories. How the tea shop came about and it’s sudden disappearance is still a mystery for people of 18 Zavian Street to ponder over.

– Jan @jahnavigouri