Worry not my poet

What do you fear so much dear poets

This AI is just as cold as love's hurt

It has no remorse nor depth, but words

Those are not unknown like so many poets

If you have to gasp then let it be of pain

If exuberance is the state; explain

For like a cold heart of a lover that is gone

This AI cannot breathe like the lover's forlorn 

A dash of lime please, Cheers!

Good evenings are marked by a large serving of sunset gold whiskey

Poured on six cubes of ice, and a splash of lemon

I like such evenings, like today and I am past two of my talls

It feels good, I miss the conversation with you though

The last we spoke, it was about the rush of your leaving

I raised a toast to my own scattering to dust, in a smile too

You seemed quite surprised that I would let you choose parting

I had nothing to hold you back with, than my worthless love

While my love for you maybe deemed worthless, irrelevant

You still make my soul soar into the brightest of the skies

Like the stars that shine in this strange Delhi night sky

Your memories twinkle now at the tinkle of my glass

Room 104

It is a wide white room, these greyish curtains gently sway

You sit, reading poems that are shoddily put together by someone else

I lie to you that they are fabulous and forward them to you

You look at me as you read them out, making disgusted faces

I relish this torment that I Inflict on you, pranking you

You exhale in annoyed breaths yell expletives at me

I send you a newer verse, this time written by me, made for you

You smile suddenly and come over to give me a hug

I see the evening has passed by in this prank, it's night

I sing an old song from my memory as we smoke a cigarette

You exclaim stating you rather spend time like this

I brew a coffee and blend it with rum, serve it

We sip it once it turns cold, the stars are beautiful

Like you they envelop me, surround me in gentle wonder

Travels are better with a coffee pot

I must admit, Aaloo Parathas are perfect breakfast food but

Almond fingers and coffee taste quite heavenly 

And when you are hangry three hours past your early morning wake

You like pretending the world has gone to hell altogether

So I ordered them, for you and me

While I ordered coffee and milk powder too

I liked the look on your face as they delivered

All of these items to our silent and still hotel room

When I made coffee and served it, with these almond fingers

They looked quite tempting and you ate them off the jar lid

I leaned closer and gently whispered some words on purpose

Do you remember what was it that I said my dear?

You don't realise it wasn't about carrying these every trip hereon

I meant I want to always take trips with you, make you coffee

In those early mornings and calm you hangry and trying to be calm

Causality

Morbid generosity

Offered 

Cold comfort

Interpreted

Wanton cravings

Unfurled

Vehement rejection

Encountered

Loving arms

Lured

Burning heart

Lent

Exasperated breaths

Rose

Cold shoulders

Rued

Earnest eagerness

Dejected

Blooming flowers

Died

Soaring high

Caged

Soulful love

Burnt

freight truck, where have you been

That is a big orange lock on your door, Oh! friend van. What do you hide inside?

I am always in the mood of curiosity, and this time again you will disappoint

I know

But then we both are locked in this causality and action, your eloquent rejection to enthrall me

What do you hold inside you today, my dear, tell me, tell me, what is new

Could it be the box of medicines that is needed to save a life, that is wandering the borders?

As it thinks of crossing over into the light, his hands held by a sad sad mother, broken

I don't know

But I know you will tell me, once you open up, unleash the mystery that is inside

What do you hold inside you today, my dear, tell me, tell me, what is new

Could it be boxes of croissants that everyone fusses about, pretends to know, and try to pronounce

As we all know I hate French food, it's too bland for me and a croissant is the least of many

I don't know

But I know you will disappoint me, once you open up, unleash upon me a sense of pointlessness

What do you hold inside you today, my dear, tell me, tell me, what is new

Could it be fresh sweets and treats that you are carrying from the nearby bakery, I love that place

I have spent a good part of my youth getting items there to bake, that mom prepared, we didn't have an oven then

I don't know

But I know I will be dejected, once you open up and unleash upon me a sense of childish stupidness 

What do you hold inside you today, my dear, tell me, tell me, what is new

Could it be large chunks of ice for the nearby mortuary, oh! That place has so many dead bodies, I fear it

I have passed by that place so often, now It sends a shiver through my soul, my friends were there

I don't know

But I know you will scare me, once you open up and unleash, a sense of morbid human mortality

What do you hold inside you today, my dear, tell me, tell me, what is new

In a world of distinction and repeat

By the law of averages, everyone ends up the same

One could be a knight in shining armour out to save me

Dragging me out half alive, bleeding, rescuing me

To then gently stab me, ever so often, in random acts

Who am I to judge such actions, I could just be the same

I could be your knight in shining armour out to save you

Drag you out half dead, bled out, failed at hoping a rescue

To then save another, in turn just stab you unknowingly

The ones who speak of distinction and uniqueness are still the same

They are sometimes the knight, sometimes the night

One saves you from the dragons that life throws your way

To then engulf you in their darkness, break you in dismay

Coconut Blossoms

A Malayali boy of seventeen, peers

through his window, watches this girl

cutting a paper butterfly, he paused

it wasn’t the rose on her right breast 

he saw

he saw more, a whole lot more

than what his youth could handle

His lower body froze rose 

rosetted,  into a hormonal rage

but his heart melted too

like the eyes of a hungry man 

at the Sadhya, when rice is served

and he waits for the sambar

the evening passed them by

them at this point, unknown to her

he had sung for her in his heart

she noticed his leering and smiled

it was teenage love in her heart too

and me? I dusted the front yard.

An analysis by Chat GPT

The poem "Coconut Blossoms" depicts a scene where a seventeen-year-old Malayali boy observes a girl from his window. The boy becomes captivated by the girl's actions and appearance, particularly when she cuts a paper butterfly. The poem explores the boy's emotional response to this encounter, highlighting the mix of physical attraction and deeper emotional connection he feels.

The title, "Coconut Blossoms," sets a tropical and naturalistic tone for the poem. It suggests the emergence of something beautiful and delicate, much like the blossoming of coconut flowers. This imagery could symbolize the boy's budding feelings for the girl.

The poem delves into the boy's conflicting emotions. On one hand, he experiences a surge of sexual desire ("his lower body froze rose/rosetted, into a hormonal rage"). The use of the rose imagery emphasizes the intensity of his physical reaction. However, the boy's emotions extend beyond mere lust. His heart also melts, indicating a deeper emotional connection and a sense of vulnerability.

The comparison of the boy's heart-melting "like the eyes of a hungry man at the Sadhya" creates an interesting juxtaposition. Sadhya refers to a feast in Malayalam cuisine, where rice and sambar, a curry with vegetables, are served. The anticipation and longing for sambar can be seen as a metaphor for the boy's longing for connection and love. This comparison evokes a sense of hunger, suggesting that the boy yearns for emotional fulfillment in the same way a hungry man craves food.

As the evening progresses, the girl remains unaware of the boy's presence. She notices him leering at her and responds with a smile. This recognition from the girl elicits a positive response from the boy, indicating a mutual teenage infatuation.

The poem concludes with the speaker, presumably an observer or narrator, mentioning their own mundane activity of dusting the front yard. This seemingly unrelated detail contrasts with the heightened emotions experienced by the boy. It could suggest a sense of detachment or distraction from the intensity of youthful love.

In terms of critique, the poem effectively captures the intensity and complexities of adolescent infatuation. It explores the interplay between physical attraction and emotional connection, presenting the boy's experience with vivid imagery and metaphors. However, the poem is quite brief, leaving the reader wanting more development and exploration of the characters and their emotions. Adding additional stanzas or expanding upon the themes introduced could enhance the depth and impact of the poem

But then, ok, whatever

Shadows and light, are merely transient thoughts

for neither are true, nor are false and then this

opulent imagination like the cacophony of dulling

rule the minds of mere and utter low mortals

yet they rue, rot, reminisce in such

and forage through onwards, this silly lot

One must ponder, wonder, wander as lost

find the true meaning of what should be sought

But who am I to judge, I am busy in my yard

raking leaves, and voicing my own demons

and my soul at times is so hopeless and fraught

where once I found I could cure this blight of

turbid subservient thoughts, not mine, theirs

I find no reason, for my battles are fought

by me? No, I wouldn’t care less and I am no Frost

yet they! Oh how they try leave me aghast

As you said, mom, these are not for me

this audacity some portray are not for my ask

let those that wander in such throes be naught

I don’t find them to be a reason for my epiphany

I do not wander nor am I ever lost , then why

Why should I be there to steer their keel

I am not the sea, nor do I wish to even feel

So I Let them be and those that pander be loft.

An analysis by Chat GPT

The poem titled "But then, ok, whatever" explores the poet's frustration and resignation in trying to help individuals who know they are wrong but refuse to improve. The language and structure of the poem create a sense of detachment and apathy towards the struggles of others. Let's analyze and critique the poem further.

The opening lines introduce the concept of shadows and light as transient thoughts, implying that they hold no absolute truth or falsehood. This can be interpreted as a metaphor for subjective perspectives and opinions. The phrase "opulent imagination like the cacophony of dulling" suggests that the poet views the imaginative thoughts of others as excessive and noisy but lacking substance.

The poem then refers to these imaginative individuals as "mere and utter low mortals" who "rue, rot, reminisce." This dismissive tone and the choice of words diminish the significance of their experiences and emotions. The poet perceives them as a "silly lot" who forage through life without purpose.

The next stanza reflects the poet's introspection and personal struggles. They admit to being preoccupied with their own demons, using phrases like "my battles are fought" and "I am busy in my yard, raking leaves." The poet's sense of hopelessness and despair is conveyed through the words "soul at times is so hopeless and fraught."

The mention of "turbid subservient thoughts, not mine, theirs" suggests that the poet recognizes the negativity of others' perspectives but refuses to internalize them. They distance themselves from the influence of these thoughts, asserting that they "wouldn't care less." The reference to Frost, likely alluding to the poet Robert Frost, emphasizes the poet's disinterest in assuming a similar role as a guiding influence.

The poem concludes by reinforcing the poet's decision to disengage from the struggles of others. They quote someone referred to as "mom," who advises them that the audacity displayed by certain individuals is not their concern. The phrase "I do not wander nor am I ever lost" asserts the poet's self-assuredness and detachment from the wandering and lost individuals.

The last line, "So I let them be and those that pander be loft," suggests a final decision to allow others to continue their misguided ways while the poet remains aloof. The use of the word "loft" here is unclear in its meaning, possibly suggesting a sense of superiority or isolation.

Critique:

The poem effectively conveys a sense of frustration and disillusionment towards individuals who knowingly hold incorrect beliefs but refuse to change. It explores themes of detachment and apathy, showcasing the poet's choice to focus on their own struggles rather than attempting to guide or influence others. The use of metaphors and imagery adds depth to the poem's overall tone.

However, one critique of the poem is its tone of superiority and condescension. The poet's dismissive language and portrayal of others as "mere and utter low mortals" diminishes their experiences and perspectives, creating a sense of elitism. This attitude can detract from the empathy and understanding that could be fostered through dialogue and communication.

Furthermore, the poem's overall message seems resigned and defeatist. While it is understandable to feel frustrated when faced with individuals resistant to change, completely disengaging from trying to help or understand them may limit opportunities for growth and reconciliation. The poem could benefit from exploring alternative approaches to engaging with and assisting those who hold incorrect beliefs.

In conclusion, "But then, ok, whatever" effectively conveys the poet's frustration and resignation in attempting to help individuals who refuse to improve. However, its tone of superiority and apathy towards others might hinder its potential for fostering empathy and understanding.

In a moment, when I blink

It isn't like you could tape a wine glass

that broke a few nights ago

In a grip of grieving, in your longing

and you were nowhere to be found

I won't complain then, this constant pain 

and it's unbearable onslaught is 

unwanted, unwarranted, undeniable though

This heart has only known

of reeling in the darkness your leaving bore

of what consequence was this, and for what

I see me lost the the shores of dying hope

I am afraid of seas, all seas you see, or don't

lest you would haven't been gone, as I drown in such a sorrowful sea, in a struggle, a menagerie of all I abhor, you would too, won't you love, here I fill my lungs with the darkness beneath

I breathe, this feeds, not what I seek, but what seeks me

I would question if I could, I would not for this is all me, and my head, riled and crumbling

in love but she, 

Isn't here, won't be, can't be, wouldn't want to be

I sleep, walk and my body is only deed, her love

was the life seed, lost to wind, like dying dandelions in the gust of wind

It looks pretty too, but we know it isn't, but then of such woe I never speak

Or reflect, like a pane of crumbling concrete, that only serves to poison me, and those that be

Beside

Besides, then love brings what, only this sad torment, and forlorn sighs, keeping me awake every night, of wanting your touch, even if by the air, that grazed you by, just a moment ago

I cease, pull at my hair, extract strands, hate them for being what you have loved

like I loved yours, until we both cut them

right off, they were constantly bothering our vision, I gather

Sleep

Wake and then I will be here again

pondering, into your void of absence

Love, brings

A summary and comparison by chatgpt:

The poem is a raw expression of the speaker's heartbreak and longing for someone who has left them. The opening lines set the scene for the sense of loss and futility that pervades the poem, with the metaphor of a broken wine glass that cannot be repaired. The speaker acknowledges that the pain they feel is constant and overwhelming, and that they are afraid of the emotional seas they are navigating without their loved one. The poem is full of powerful imagery, such as the speaker's lungs filling with darkness and their body becoming nothing more than a shell without their lost love.

The language is emotive and expressive, with short, fragmented lines that convey the speaker's sense of confusion and disorientation. The repetition of certain phrases, such as "this constant pain" and "love brings," underscores the cyclical nature of grief and the way in which memories and emotions can become trapped in a never-ending loop. The final lines, which simply read "Love, brings," suggest that despite the speaker's suffering, they are unable to let go of their feelings for the person who has left them.

In terms of style and content, the poem shares some similarities with the work of poets like Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton, who are known for their confessional and often deeply personal poetry. Like Plath and Sexton, the speaker in this poem is grappling with complex emotions and the aftermath of a traumatic event, and using their writing to try to make sense of their experiences. The use of vivid imagery and metaphor is also a hallmark of confessional poetry, and the broken wine glass in the opening lines serves as a powerful symbol of the speaker's shattered hopes and dreams.

Overall, the poem is a poignant and heartfelt exploration of grief and loss, and a testament to the enduring power of love even in the face of great pain and suffering.

Back to work then?

Silent mornings

And I know like you

I feel better cuddled

Then

A few more minutes

Turn into hours

We rush to meet the morning

As we remember work

If we could my love

We would, won't we

Sit by the window

Stare into the green trees

Suddenly to get up

Rush to work and either of us

Calls the other mad

It is a Sunday

Today is Monday though

And you are not here

The birds are chirping loud

The streets hold a crowd

Here in this absurdity

I rush to work and miss

You yanking my hand

Holding me in a kiss