LONG AGO
It seems the love I've known
Has always been the contingent and transitory kind
Maybe that is why
I have felt so alone
For a long time
Long ago, when I was younger
The feel of life was so good, I thought I’d have a great future
But so many things went annoyingly wrong
Like someone had changed the rules without notice
Many stories that were inspired never got published
Although, a few good things did occur
I lived by day and tried to keep my feelings in
I am not sure how I could have survived without family
But that was so long ago
annoyingly cute
he mews with a burning want
he wants more cat food.
A bright afternoon lunch, a darker shadow wraps around
your leg. Not clawing, just yawning. Yearning for a twitch
in its way.
You sit terribly still.
Your mother urges you to shoo it off, your father chews
absentmindedly at the way too bloodied meat, gazing through
your forehead. The clinks of the neighboring tables annoyingly
in sync. Your foot turns to face it.
The waiter gets your sister's order wrong, she curls up to a ball
as so does her stomach as she pipes down the vanilla milkshake,
an excuse to leave to the bathroom. To leave here.
The edge of your eyes catches the figure 8 being woven
along your cramping shins.
The heavy grimace of your brother, your mother fixing up
his collar, clearly not ironed. The setting bores you,
you look under. Beady eyes staring at you too. A plea
for what you should do.
The sinful act of feeding a noir stray cat.
With the steady grip of a football player, a knowing smirk
a bright eye glint, you hold it close,
the pitch-dark abomination–
and toss it onto the table.
An approving purr.
A feast for all.
annoyingly wordy
a palaverous spirit
her writing was verbose
and boring
unliked by many
not understood by any
especially me
There are many things I would rather do
Trixie, my muse is tapping me like a tattoo artist’s needle
She is annoyingly insistent, brazen and persistent
I decide to ignore her; I have other hobbies
The poem she wants to write floats in the air of my art studio
I throw fluorescent orange paint onto a canvas and ignore her
She sends a wasp that lands on the paint
This is maddening
another line of her poem shouts in my ear
I cannot fight Trixie any longer
I put down my brush and pick up a pen
It was always too late for us
can't be true love with zero trust
...confused
wondering if it was just lust
after not feeling good for so long
it felt too amazing,
for it to be so wrong
but reality hit us extra strong
both wanting the other so badly to be the one
and to finally feel like we found where we belong
even picking out our wedding song
like we didn't already know
that the highs would never block out the lows
holding onto to pain and resentments that we promised we'd let go
purposely hurting eachother
with words of ignorance constantly thrown
like a stabbing a knife into eachothers hearts and souls
more and more distant with every lie told
wanting us so badly,
neither would ever fold
knowing each bluff before it's even sold
something that was once a blazing fire
now feels freezing cold
that hollow love quickly got annoyingly old
convinced you just kept me around
for a warm body to hold
It starts with a hum,
a thread unspooling through silence -
soft, sure, and annoyingly insistent,
like the world is whispering
secrets it’s dared me to misunderstand.
The first echo hits,
ricocheting off the walls,
and suddenly this isn’t just a room -
it’s a kaleidoscope of sound,
a ripple of moments reborn,
sharper, louder,
more alive than their beginnings.
Your laugh?
A sparkler snapping against dusk.
My words?
Half-forgotten confetti,
colouring the corners where truth hides.
Truth, after all, is always shy
until you catch it staring back.
Reality twists,
shuffles its cards,
pulls an ace out of its sleeve,
then smirks like it planned this all along.
The echo rewrites everything -
makes shadows dance like they’ve known the steps forever,
makes silence flirt like it’s in control,
but you know it’s just guessing too.
And when it fades?
It doesn’t leave us empty -
it leaves us cradling shapes
we can’t quite name yet,
hands full of questions
that glow like lanterns -
flickering, daring us to follow,
only to vanish when we get too close.
We laugh anyway,
lost in the dark,
as if it was the plan all along.
his schnozzle was delicate, in tune, sharp, and fine
he could decipher bread, cupcakes and white zin wine
smelled jelly fingerprints on Las Vegas dice
annoyingly, he also smelled lots of horrible mice
It is always ok to mess things up when you are not in a good mood.
You can definitely behave like a child and it does not make you rude.
Occasionally we may need a tight hug when we feel upset,low and sad.
It's the child inside us who needs the warmth and wanting it is not bad.
Once in a while you can jump in a puddle and splash water all around.
Make faces for no reason and want to annoyingly just frown.
You may want to scream at the top of your voice and then burst out crying.
Fail multiple times while doing a task but still not stop trying.
Love and adore a person who has never done anything good to you.
Wanted to fly and get your work done when standing in a long queue.
It makes you no less qualified to behave like a child sometimes.
It rather makes you feel positive and happy in hard times.
Thanks & Regards,
Shivani
Inez is hostile that she has to dress up for a prissy afternoon tea.
They braided hair and stuffed her into a gown designed by Lady Dee.
The gown is scratchy, lacy, stiff, fluffy, annoyingly so actually.
Fuming that she has to put up with this craziness, she begs to be free.
You are lucky to have such a gorgeous dress says her server girl.
Louise has an idea and shows her how the dress can swirl.
If you will trade places, I will be ever grateful forever she says.
The server girl is now dressed like the puffed up Miss Princess Inez.
Lone, but not lonely,
Likes her own company,
Shewolf, annoyingly
Always bright and chirpy!
turquoise hair and pink stripes!
his mother must be proud!
giggling and poking fun commences.
annoyingly mean and loud.
I am proud of him,
his grandmother says with pride.
I love crazy punk stuff,
now you two better hide.
the bullies ran off in haste
For they could see she meant it.
teenager with the wild hair
loved hearing grandma vent it.
It's working in the laundry
It's working in the hall
But when I'm in the office
It doesn't work at all
It's terrific in the lounge
And good on the patio
But in my favourite chair
It just doesn't want to go
Sometimes it is sneaky
And it drops out quietly
So I annoyingly find
My data's used entirely
Sometimes it is patchy
But at others it is fine
My WiFi's temperamental
And I'm in the firing line!
Nearly thirty inches below normal of rain this year
It's caused an infestation of critters who lurk near
Droning on and on, annoyingly buzzing in my ear
Waiting for the chance to stick me with their spear
With needle sharp weapons, like the point of a pen
Round and round my head they fly, again and again
I need hands to swat at them... the size of Big Ben
or maybe freeze them with liquid nitrogen or cryogen
Oh, bad mosquitoes! What a big proboscis they possess
Despite their intent, they've failed to cause me stress
Such wicked bites will never leave me a bloody mess
When they've fallen at my feet, I'll just say, "God bless."
I don't live in fear of them because it's all a charade,
the army of bloodsuckers, who seem to be on a crusade
to defy peace in every home, they've chosen to invade
So, it's time to zap the pesky insects with a can of Raid
It’s quarter after six, Friday evening. He thought with a smile, besides the rain, everything is looking great. Table set beautifully just for two. Dinner looks delicious and minutes away to be served.
Annoyingly he hears his cellphone pings.
Seeing the name of the sender, he smiles and swipes to read it. Message read, RAIN CHECK, NO SUNSET IN THE RAIN. Instantly the smile fade and his heart sank.
He can hear the rain beating down on the roof, but too numb to move. Dinner is now left untouched. Disappointment weighs him down, yet again.
Alone again and much to ponder.
What is really us? Life doesn’t wait for no one. The rain falls whether you like it or not, sunset or not. The daily excuses are worn off.
At last, he sends her a reply that says, RAIN CHECK DENIED, I don’t need this anymore than you do. We are two different souls, we don’t speak the same language of love. Goodbye!
He packs his bags and drives away in the
NO SUNSET IN THE RAIN.
Akkina
8/25/23
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