Never again

You cannot ever put sketch pen dots on your dolls again
Your paper boats have drowned
The ink on them has washed off
The cute aliens have gone back to their planets
They have forgotten you
Though they promised to write back they will not
The sunsets happen
Even if you don’t remember them
Your legs don’t dangle anymore when you sit on a chair
They have grown long enough to touch the floor
Your first feather has fallen
Layers of feathers have grown over the place where it used to be
The deers don’t look for the water holes any more
They drink from rivers
Nobody coos sweet nothings when you sleep
No murmurs and whispers any more
Sleep is an escape from the silence and weariness
That would submerge you were you awake
No more letters from school friends
With drawings of stick-like girls holding hands
Pigtails on either side
Mailboxes are empty
Only the Viagra sellers keep trying you
And the odd forward from an acquaintance
You even wear raincoats now
And shy away from rain
Water is bad
Memories are bad
Your lost best friend will never come back
He remembers the careless whisper
An awkward dream shows up
In the middle of the busy afternoon
When you’re buried in mundane bread-earning
You fold it into eight
Like the doggy-eared comic
And stuff it deep down in your satchel
Under all the approved behavior
The sea shells are still enticing
Yet you don’t want to stoop
You want to frolic in the white waves
Yet someone is watching
And you come back
With the one half of yourself
That wets toe tips in the water
Never again can you fall over
And laugh at your scraped knees
Or dirty your clothes in the swamp
Never again will you pick up
The running baby goat
Or squeeze the calatropis flowers
You are now a normalcy
You are accepted and approved of
You are symmetrically real and dead
And can never be ugly again.

10 thoughts on “Never again

  1. Life offered some shilling
    she was not keen and willing
    search for a large mound of pound,
    that still her did elude
    never came the cool dude.
    They laid her on the ground
    her soul she went a killing.
    Happines is to see a whole universe
    in the palm of ones hand.
    and the whole creation in a grain of sand.
    else it will always be worse.
    Never say never again in verse

  2. This is a very good one, Math! I really enjoyed it. You had once responded to a comment from your reader that poetry’s meaning lies with the reader. As a reader, I have tried to capture what went through my mind as I read your poem. I know it is sacrilege to dissect and analyze a poem. But I hope you will forgive me

    “Your legs don’t dangle anymore when you sit on a chair” – Too good a way to say that we have grown up without actually saying it. The next line was actually redundant but if you think it is needed, I won’t contend that.

    “Your first feather has fallen
    Layers of feathers have grown over the place where it used to be
    “- sounds like a double entendre. But it may be just that my mind is dirty as usual.

    “Sleep is an escape from the silence and weariness
    That would submerge you were you awake” – what was it before? I know what it before was! But I would love to know how you would have put it. What was sleep like in the childhood? Was it just plain natural?

    “You fold it into eight
    Like the doggy-eared comic
    And stuff it deep down in your satchel
    Under all the approved behavior” – What was the dream like? I would like to unfold it after digging it up from your satchel. “approved behavior” is such a good phrase. You conveyed everything in that.

    “And can never be ugly again.”.. yes growing up is always considered to be becoming beautiful like the butterfly which breaks its cocoon. But childhood is much more beautiful in the ugliest way possible.

    U rock, Math. I could have just said that. But I just got a feeling that you may not believe me if I keep saying just that for all your posts. Truth is every post of yours rocks. May be I have to juts put a persistent comment “U ROCK!”.. Please don’t let the mundane bread-winning affect your imagination in any way.

  3. Venkat… thanks for that long comment. I don’t think you have dissected the poem at all.

    Perhaps a few lines are redundant .. I did not put so much thought into the poem.. wrote how I felt. As a child I used to keep wanting my feet to touch the floor when I sat on a chair but it used to dangle or sometimes it used to stick straight. Therefore I’d try sitting on the edge of the chair. Now I know that unless I get a huge chair I’ll always have my feet on the ground.

    The double entendre was unintended. Haha! That line comes from some hidden understanding. Never mind.

    What was sleep like in childhood? The lines before that speak of the whispers and murmurs that cooed you to sleep. Perhaps that is what I miss now.

    That dream will forever remain buried. No amount of digging up will resurrect it.

    Yes.. and I never wanted to be beautiful. They trimmed my frayed edges and tailor-made me.

    The poem was not just about childhood. Somewhere down the line we lose people who would treat us like a child and be children themselves.

    Thanks for the positive comments Venkat. 🙂

    Peace!

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