Oct 17, 2014

An unknown world

A rainbow streak pierces through the grey
Monotones finding shades and hues
Windchimes breaking the clock’s steady rhythms

It is a world unbeknownst
It is a world not beckoned
A world untouched by the blacks and blues

Eyes squint as they adjust
Hands twitch as the wind brushes past
Feet unaware of the freedom found

A nostalgic sigh for the darkness once dear
A habit entwined, a habit weaned
A habit dissolved in a rainbow cloud.

- Haem Roy
October 2014. 

Sep 21, 2014

The everyday lover's 'rhetoric'

Another prompt by a colleague, and another attempt at writing something. The word this time was 'rhetoric'. Vague, ambiguous and very intangible, I initially struggled with how I could interpret it. And then I wondered - rhetoric is used so often in love, in courtship, in trying to impress and in trying to woo. Every lover has rhetoric and I wrote about this everyday lover's rhetoric.

The everyday lover’s rhetoric

The sun gets belittled with just a glance,
The moon finds nowhere to hide in shame,
The flowers seem devoid of their colour.

As the lover hand picks his praises,
And the lady finds her rose-tinted pedestal,
As nature transfers its glory to the whispers they exchange.

Adoration, persuasion, flattery, worship,
Blindfolds, apprehensions, hopes, dreams,
Wishes like whiffs of perfume.

Days of haze, eyes glazed with illusions,
Fantasies and fairytales seeping through drop by drop,
Promises pressed into clay by jittery hands.

The words have done their part
The verses have played the allurer
And they flutter forth, heart to heart, hope to hope.

- Haem Roy
20th Sep 2014.

May 21, 2014


A little background: A colleague and I decided we needed a bit of creative exercise to get through the rest of the day. Around 3 in the afternoon, we came up with one word - midnight - and both of us had half an hour to come up with a verse around it.

Below is what I wrote.


Short strokes painted across untiring eyes,
Engulfing a calm,
A scenery that knows no shades.
Black is black and all is dark.

She walks down the ascending road,
Piercing the silence with sharp heels,
Smoke filled in her mind,
Her breath clear as the night.

Crinkled memories of the path she walks,
Muffled voices behind curtains closed hours ago,
Stories swept under the carpets of quiet,
Don’t ask, don’t tell, just stack the mind.

Both hands entwine, the wind chimes,
The streets are hers now.
Seducing the suns away from their skies,
They nicknamed her ‘Midnight’.

- © Haem Roy
May 2014.

Mar 8, 2014

The poetry of abandon

Her breath moved in a lilting rhythm,
Her skin jumped up to reach out to his touch,
Goosebumps that spread to her beating heart.

He didn't need to see her to revere. 
She didn't need to touch him to feel.

His fingers like satin, wrapped around her,
The world was bolted out,
The covers were out in the open.

His eyes covered her in silky glory,
She was the queen of the world they lived in.

They were discoverers - every moment a quest,
They found the hidden art in seduction,
Never more than an inch away from breathlessness.

Her curves were now his altar,
His warm breath was her drug.

Levitating above the world they lived in,
Creating pure poetry with their bodies,
Sculpting pleasure into their memories.

Wild abandon seeped in their senses,
Attachments found no space to survive.

© Haem Roy
8th March, 2014.

Feb 23, 2014

Wedding blurs part 2: Erasing the blurs

This is my attempt at a sequel for a story I had earlier written. You can find the original story (Wedding Blurs) here.

The story continues:

The music was loud. That's a good thing. She wouldn't have to indulge in small talk. It's not like she didn't like talking. Oh no! She loved it. But now was not the time. This was not the place. And these were not the people.

She was here for a reason. And she was determined to return only once her purpose was achieved.

She walked up to the bar, carefully evading the spots with bright light. She was wearing a simple, elegant navy blue dress, short enough to show off her shapely legs, but long enough to differentiate her from the teenage girls who had just found freedom from their uniforms and were leaving no stones unturned to enjoy it. She smirked a little. She'd been there, and she knew that feeling. But that was another time. Seemed almost like another life to her.

He was with her then.

They had just met, and were still a little formal with each other, but his infectious company was not something anyone could ignore. She would glance at him from the corner of her eyes, and smirk shyly at his quips to the other friends. He would chat up the server like he was a regular, and he even managed to get a free round of drinks for everyone. No one knew how. He just did.

She shook her head to clear these thoughts. No. This wasn't a time to get nostalgic. It would make things even more difficult. She ordered a drink - strong scotch on the rocks. That was her new poison. She was far from her Cosmo and Mojito days. With a swirl of the glass, her gaze swirled, and then stopped. Yes. That one. In the corner. He was quiet, but looked eager. He was young, yet not so young that he would be impressionable. She picked up her glass, and started walking towards him. Her hands were steady, but the same could not be said of her knees.

The knees were always a dead giveaway with her. It is how he would catch her fibbing. When they fought (oh yes they fought!), she would try to be stubborn and stand her ground. She feared losing him, and while her face never showed it, her knees would just not stop quivering. Of course he knew, and of course he let her win, with a little knowing grin. He hated that she feared so much. He would always tell her, 'You cannot stop what may or may not happen. Instead of fearing the possibilities, just experience the present.' Preachy. But then again, it is exactly how he lived.

She walked up to the young man at the club, and struck up a conversation. Mindless small talk. She was an expert at it now. Relatives, in-laws, friends of the husband, even with the husband, practice was aplenty. The husband was on a business trip, and in a way so was she. With the husband and other relatives around, the mindless housework would aid in drowning the screams in her head. For them she was the ideal daughter in law. Always the first to volunteer for any chore, always busy with keeping everything in order, and even assisting her husband with office work. But only she knew how important it was to her that she stay busy all the time. And then, there were days like these. When no amount of work would be enough, when the screams leaped out of her head and surrounded her like a numbing reality. And here she was, finding another way to drown them.

She laughed and drank with the young man and his friends. An hour later, she whispered to him, 'Tell me you have a place', and smiled. A practiced smile. And expressionless eyes. He on the other hand, could not believe his luck. He stuttered a yes, and fumbled in his pocket for the car keys. She lead the way out of the club as he followed, quite shocked.

She was going to do it. She was going to have another one night stand. Maybe it will work eventually. These empty, meaningless encounters would eventually forge an empty meaningless hole in her soul. So that she could finally live without him, and could finally bear to live with his memory.