Story of a lost journalist

February 6, 2013

Moments Before i Sleep

Filed under: poem — Cris @ 03:02

I want to write beautiful lines

Sad lines… but beautiful lines

About the moments before I sleep

When I feel the saddest

Sometimes it becomes sleep

And then there is no night

Sometimes it looks alive

Like a full moon outside my window

That I can see from where I look

But never touch, it’s always too far

I think I can wipe it off with my palms

But it remains however hard I wipe

Until it’s morning again

And then I can’t see it

But like the moon, it’s still there

Invisible, behind a bright gold sun

Way behind

The stresses and stories of a new day

Stories that come and go,

Sometimes wet like the rain,

Or else it’s called another day

Stories that do nothing to my nights

When I feel the saddest

Moments before I sleep

August 30, 2010

I don’t like but I do

Filed under: poem — Cris @ 02:43

(Dedicated to a dear friend talking to whom I was inspired to write this)

I don’t like darkness
But I like nights

I don’t like sun rays
But I like its warmth

I don’t like loneliness
But I like going on a date with myself

I don’t like speed
But I like the air it brings

I don’t like heights
But I like the view it gives

I don’t like pain
But I like the love that brings it

I don’t like bad
But I like the good that kills it

I don’t like lies
But I like the truth that defeats it

I don’t like hypocrisy
But I like the honesty that exposes it

I don’t like jealousy
But I like the integrity that belittles it

I don’t like sadness
But I like the braveness that buries it

I don’t like fights
But I like to agree to disagree

I don’t like childishness
But I like the innocence that puts it to shame

I don’t like technology
But I like the word it brings from a distant dear

I don’t like death
But I like the life that makes it worth the end

I don’t like violence
But I like you 🙂

July 31, 2010


Filed under: poem — Cris @ 01:40

(Warning: Attempt at poetry. If it doesn’t look like one, it is plain old prose :D.. Wrote, sitting in office today, waiting for my ‘lift’ home.)

I look at a blank screen
There’s nothing on it
But empty reflections
Of an open window
Of trees far away
And a fading dark sky

There is a bird out there
Chirping a funny little tune
A butterfly flutters by
Patting tiny petals
Distant horns of buses and bikes
Someone is talking far away

As I stare into my screen
Watching little reflections
Hearing trivialities
A wave of melancholy peeps in
Somewhere from that outside world
Through the open window,
It comes to touch my heart and soul

The song I sang some moments ago
The words I uttered fast and loud
Suddenly it is all so meaningless
What place has cheers and joy,
In a world that wants to stay gloomy?

Those that dare to laugh are stopped
With no mercy nor concern
They are shoved to where they belong
In a dusty corner all by themselves

But they know not what I can see
Apart from these reflections
On my empty little screen
Eyes that smile, words that embrace
Etched in my mind like a grand ol’ tree
To stand by me, wherever I am

March 4, 2009

Exams at i-j-t: a poem!

Filed under: poem — Cris @ 15:56

(Poem meant for class blog. If you feel its childish I havent given the date of creation; if you feel its refreshingly brilliant I havent said it was written ages ago. Ping ping ping. Darn the lie detector again. Ok I wrote it today!)

We are having exams
At this place called i-j-t

We come and sit there biting nails
All 20 of us, no fail in that

For though we go missing
On days on end when classes reign
Us boys and girls
of evening batch
Love climbing up
those 40-odd steps
To gasp and wait for papers white
And blink and stare at questions black

Write we do for all two hours
Though right there is none
in all we write

With heads that bend
And hands that scratch
We think and wonder
When could we go
and find some mud
To dig our heads
deep within

Then we decide
to brighten up
And think of this-
as such a joy
“Theres nothing I know
Like I feared I might
It must be my innocence
nothing else”

And then there comes
the judgment day
When teachers climb
those steps we did
With them a bundle
of white monsters
That were once papers
we trotted on

Now in red and all crosses
The papers are but
little red devils
That played a trick
on us poor mortals

We hide in shame
our faces in hands
And chant all chants
to make us vanish

But magics fail
and we remain
To see and hear our
wild answers
And look elsewhere
to act and pretend
Its not us
but someone else
That made us write
those silly things

Nothing works
Our teachers are bright
They see through us
and make us wilt

Heads hung in shame
and faces turned red
We take those papers
and sit on chairs
And make all oaths
to do better next time.

But dont we know
what will happen?
Years went by
but none without
When oaths as these
were chanted aloud
That keep failing
forever and more

But hope we have
Cause thats what makes
these boys and girls
To fight and shout
for a happy morrow.

September 2, 2008

A child of 9

Filed under: poem — Cris @ 03:36
Tags: ,

I wish it was those times again
When I was just a child of 9,
And playing was the only thing,
I did or want to do

Like the sun gone up to work
Big girls and boys all around
Went out to do the same
While cloudy eyed, I slipped around
To find a bed and sleep again

My wants were so small, my needs even less,
Cause I could name the things I liked
In ones, twos and threes

Running around, no thing of shame
Climbing and crawling, a happy deal
Bruises and wounds, ack who cares?

Watching her, that little girl,
Of all those years ago,
I know what I had was lost
And that I took, did all too well
Unpicked, unlearned, uncared

For fear, I didn’t, of shame or truth
I must’ve known it didn’t matter
To worry about a world
That didn’t worry for me

I wanted only fun in life
Things that kept my spirits high
I must’ve known that life didn’t wait
For boys and girls to wake up and run to it

I knew what to do ‘n where to look
To find and do the things I should
I must’ve known there was no time
To wait and brood, life went by too fast.

I knew a lot at 9,
Knew to live and love,
The earth, my Mom and folks
They were all in my game

[Wrote as soon as it came to me – precisely at 3 AM, when I woke up seeing a bad dream – about an old lady whose ghost came laughing and wouldnt go away after I had shot her with my hands shaped to a machine gun! Dream’s location was supposedly a place I knew as a kid and to which I returned to sleep the night with my Grandma, a few many floors above my home – again supposedly. H ‘n C it was called. Well there was something of childhood in it and I found myself waking up to murmer those lines – I wish it was those times again. Its a crazy world, but I do, I really do wish I could sneek to those days and live it sometimes]

May 26, 2007

If none could see me…

Filed under: Music,poem — Cris @ 08:04


If none could see me
Or hear what I say
I should do as I please
Jump, laugh or sing loud

I should jump up so high
In every street that is brown
Not scared of an eye
Or faces that frown

I would laugh out so loud
Till my throat should so ache
I would sing out so loud
Till I can a word make

I would walk past them all
Make faces at them
And then tell them all
Am scared of noone

I would play with my dolls
With none to tease me
And take them all malls
without any shame

I would dance in a stage
As much as I want
With all my courage
Till my legs fall apart

If none could see me
Or hear what I say
I should do as I please
Jump, laugh or sing loud

Anywhere, any time
I will give me all joy
Till one day I’ll want
To be seen, to be heard

And then I’ll come back
And talk and smile good
And still do all things
Jump, laugh or sing loud

February 21, 2007

An old first date

Filed under: poem — Cris @ 16:05

It is the 14th of Feb,
I’ll meet my boy in the park.
I said I’ll wear all pink,
His eyes went down his cheeks,
‘But pink says you are free’
And I said ‘Oh but I am’

I knew he’d pick roses for me,
14 of them, all red ‘n pure
And smile at me with twinkling eyes
‘These for you I’ve brought’

I’ve a little speech planned.
Lookin at those melting eyes
I’ll talk about the moon I see
race the sky all night
Just to have a look at me
and watch me wink at it.
It will then turn into a boat,
the handsomest of all
to let me in ‘n row our way,
all through the sky together.

He’ll look at me ‘n say this then,
‘I’ll say nothin’ but this
This moment I’ll be the Moon
if miracle made me so
So you ‘n I can sail around
And together watch the world’

I’ll smile at this my sweetest smile,
‘Oh is this a real first date’
To which he’ll say it feels that way
First date, first love and all.

‘1 thing about the Moon’ I’ll say
He’ll raise a brow and ask me what
It is but this I’ve got to say
‘1 that fails to watch the Moon
forgets what love is’.
Then look at him, eyes unmoved,
and whisper in the lowest tone
‘But here I am, watching you
My dear and lovely Moon’

At this he would laugh aloud
The loudest laugh of love
And tell me very secretly
‘Who’ll but who’ll believe it
This day we age 60’

And I with my husband,
Father of my lovely kids,
will walk the path this V-day
Like we did each day
the last forty so years.

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