Deepest Cut

Each day 
much like 
the one before 
the one after 

Nothing 
to tell them apart
the sameness 
a blunt knife 
making it 
excruciating 
to slice through
minutes and hours

Loneliness 
slashes me 
a sharp edge 
leaving scars 
on skin already
riddled with cuts

You don’t bother
to decipher 
my silences 
read my smiles 
understand 
my tears 

Unmoved 
by my touch
you evade
my arms
turn away
from my lips

One day
I hope
the cut
will go
too deep
taking me
beyond
all the pain

© 2014 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

Still A Believer

I’m tired of soppy love songs 
entwined hearts & red roses
pimpled young things
drooling over each other on the train
trying to merge into one another
as if there’s no space in the carriage
for two more bodies

It makes me sick
You could say I’m embittered or cynical
Some measure of truth in both
I’ve gone through that phase
I can’t see how anyone could emerge unscathed
Perhaps some escape with superficial burns
My scars run deeper

So I can do without protestations of fervent ardour
grandiose gestures that mean little
Share my silences, listen to what I don't say
we'll see if our definitions match
I still believe in love
just not the way I used to

© 2014 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

Soundtrack Of the Mind

Soft, muted
a lullaby 
lulling the senses 
into peaceful 
contemplation

Loud, strident
A demand
to be heard
drowning happiness
in discord

Melodious, joyful
A vision of
sunny days
& bright smiles
celebrating life

Keening, tragic
a lament
mourning travails
inflicted, crushing a
hopeful heart

Underlying them all
a constant refrain
uniquely yours
plays from the first breath
silenced only by death

© 2014 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

Under Cover

Darkening day
steals the shine
but the dark casts
a subtle sheen

in the faint glow
of the night
surreptitious silhouettes
meld in serendipity

and the moon scatters
silvery sustenance
as shapes become
shadows in your light 

© 2014 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

One More Day

She turns the key in the lock
knowing she will step into darkness
How long has it been 
since she has turned the light on
Her fingers find the switch 
With a flick the room 
is bathed in a gentle glow
She wonders why 
everything still seems black
The room smells of loneliness
No matter how many doors 
and windows she throws open
the fresh air never quite seems 
to blow the gloom away
She hesitates not knowing 
what to do next
a steaming bath with scented salts
or a piping hot meal
neither seems worth the effort
She sinks down on the sofa
turns on the TV 
Desultory surfing of channels
yields nothing that will distract her
from the emptiness 
that gnaws on her tattered nerves
She forces herself to go to the kitchen
it's almost time for dinner
Eyes closed, she takes a deep breath
to stop herself from screaming
sets to work, chopping, stirring, tossing
She hears the clatter of steps
the door swings open
We're home, comes the familiar cry
She fixes a smile on her face
goes out to greet her family
Time quickly whizzes by
until the house is quiet again
She turns out the lights
She has lived through another day
but it gets harder each time
Tomorrow's shadow 
has already begun
to draw its cloak around her
One day, she knows, 
she will sink into its folds

© 2014 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

Stir my senses

Not a shy violet
shrinking away
from your touch
Not a rosebud
waiting patiently
to blossom
Not a daisy
peeking timidly
through the weeds

I'm more an orchid
exotic
unusual
bold
I've survived
every blow
adapted to each
twist of fate
bloomed despite
all odds

Your strength
won't crush me
Don't wrap me
in cotton wool
I can match
every thrust
of your passion

Tender melodies
don't stir my pulse
Awaken me
with the
throbbing beat
of drums
arouse me
with clashing cymbals
Strum my nerves
with the twang
of an electric guitar

Let's make
the earth quake
with our music

© 2014 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

The Best Is Yet To Come

Stop trying to shed tears
I know your eyes are dry
Not that I blame you
If I was around when I died
Even I wouldn’t cry

Crusty old curmudgeon
Bad-tempered shrew
Is that what you called me?
If I had to describe myself
I would use those words too

I make no apologies
for making it so tough
I toiled for a lifetime
while you had it smooth
so learn to take the rough

I'll spare you the long speeches
And all those mournful tunes 
Break out the wine
Dance to merry music
And screen some funny cartoons

Now I’ve finally been laid to rest
But don’t say goodbye so fast
Tomorrow when my will 
is read, you’ll see
I’ve saved the best for last

© 2014 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved