ET TU BRUTE

The hefty like heart of yours pours down like a cloud...

In the showers of love I am drenched.

The breeze like the nautical soul of yours teases my locks.

I resist touching that petal like lips with the wretched mine.

 I hesitate to let you engulf my torso in your arms.

Myself so skeptic of everything...anticipates in the absence of your love so cruel.

So satanic.

So devilish.

I feel the feeling not so mine.

You not for me but I definitely only yours.

 We travel the road of no destination...

And with every mile I walk with you,

Your footsteps you withdraw.

Amidst the half traveled journey you wish to return. What if so?

What if the showers you drenched me in, fall with thunders that burn me to death?

The rosy lips might just leave bruises on mine.

The arms might just disown me forever.

And all I'll be a rejected soul...

What if?

What if I remain yours and you never could be mine?

I’ll be stranded once again.

My nights will be colder…

And darker.

by Jaismita Alexander

Believe, Believe in Love...

All that remains within,

Lies deep inside.

Unknown truths, real lies.

Like the ups and downs of the raging tide.

Amidst all I feel you,

I feel your presence each moment.

Call it whatever you may,

Love or the fifth holy sacrament.

I am unknowingly entangled in you,

Lost in those passionate eyes.

Believing everything ends in you,

Even your convincing silly lies.

Be it love or your promises,

Be it you or your kisses,

Be it myself or my madness...

I believed it all...

With loving kindness.

Yet all that remains within,

Lies deep inside...

Truths are truths.

Lies are truths.

To this forever I'll abide.

By Jaismita Alexander

Some things over coffee...

"She was looking pretty in a maroon Kurti. She had a file in her right hand. I saw her cross the road. She went in to the book shop. I followed her. I stood in front of the book shop as she was flipping through the pages of the book. She had grown her nails. She was growing up, of course. Ready to go to college. She is no more a school girl. I wish I could see her once closer. But I didn't dare to come in front of her. So I left before she could see me.", he said letting out a long sigh. 

I was looking at him. His face was lit up and the happiness of seeing her after a month clearly reflected.
I said, "She still loves you and you love her still. Go and sort out things and be like before." 

"No. Let it be. Love from a distance is truer and deep. I will love her always. Far or near.", he said and got up without finishing his coffee.

I checked my phone as it had beeped once while we were talking.

One message received:

"Did you guys meet over coffee?"

She sent. 

I replied, "No."

"Oh. He might have some work. Like always.", she sent.

"Hmm.. No time for a second love story.", I typed and deleted.

"Hmm... Or may be he still loves you.", I typed and deleted again.

"Hmm...", I typed and sent. 

~Jaismita Alexander

War of a Warrior...

Tired and lonely,

I am a warrior,

Tired of carrying the burden of life.

Double a decade in the battle....

I have been fighting alone.

A war against what's wrong,

A war within myself.

A battle between my mind and heart.

Warriors fight, they say.

In the stormy days and in the darkest nights,

Warriors fall and rise.

But they don't quit the battle.

But today I'm tired,

Tired of being the strongest shoulder for myself.

I'm tired of fighting alone.

My eyelids shut to meet with dreams.

My body is scarred by the armour of pretence.

My sword of confidence has turned blunt,

And my shield of hope lies rusted.

I'm a warrior in search of a Knight.

Another shoulder to prove stronger than mine...

So that when I rest my head on it,

My fears within shatter into bits.

A Knight who mends my armour of self confidence,

A sword of resistance....

And a shield of hope.

A Knight to absorb my negativity.

A Knight to fight in my battle.

A Knight to make me rise every time I fall.

Someone I can call "My Knight".

And someone who calls me,

"My warrior."

-Jaismita Alexander

Incomplete Diary

I often got bored when alone at home. I did not like the idiot box much so only music could eradicate my boredom. But today I had something else to keep me engaged. Yesterday I had found an old discarded diary on the building terrace. The pages were torn & burnt mercilessly. Distorted condition of it made me more curious & I had assumed it to be a personal diary of someone. I hid it in my cupboard last night and thought of reading when no one is around. Finally I had the chance.

I sat at my study table & opened it. The yellow pages were all torn, except for a few. Among them some had old bus tickets & cards.

After a set of cards; half burnt, came a few written pages. 

The 1st page said,

"The way I met her today was a miracle. She was walking alone in the lane at 3 pm. The whole locality was in a lazy afternoon slumber when I saw her coming. Her bangles jingled & her hair was messy yet pretty as always. I wish I could tell her this. Ahh! I will miss her once I leave the country. Only if just for once she knew what I feel."

I smiled and realised that the owner of this diary was in love with that frizzy hair girl. I was more curious and turned to the second page. This page was in a better condition. 

The writings were:

" I saw her once again. She was standing under the sun, on the terrace. Her hair open and wet. She was drying her hair with a pink towel and her bangles jingled. The sweet jingling sound composed a tune of love in me. The love that bloomed within me for the past seven years, swayed smooth at her glance. I wish she knew all this."

The third page was torn and the rest were blank. I closed it with annoyance while my bangles jingled. Jingled like always.

-Jaismita Alexander

Written Mindlessness

I have always wanted to create my own blog for the endless musings I pen down here and there.The endless poems remain scattered on various social media sites. Some remain unpublished forever. Here is my own blog- Written Mindlessness. Yes, I write anything and everything I think. My thoughts are not limited. They aren't caged. They fly like a free bird...independent and quite mindless. For anyone who reads my blog, I promise to gift you a world of free thinking and independent creativity. :) Happy reading people!

-Jaismita Alexander