Explore
Sign Up
Login

Deliberately Drea...

PO# 345219
India
India
Eternally tired. Almost a doctor. Procrastinator.
June 5, 2015
 

Dear Lettrist,

I have clenched teeth behind smiling lips,
I hide a misled soul behind focused eyes.
I've  bottled screams with  sarcasm.
I wage wars with words.
I hide tears behind fluttering eye lashes.
I have a graveyard of stories that cannot be exhumed.
I'm black hidden in white to appear grey.
To seem acceptable.
To take and never give.
To receive empathy with apathy.

Pretentiously,
Me.

ORIGINAL
2
0
August 9, 2018
 

Dear Lettrists,
Her body was beautiful
But her soul, malnourished.
What they thought were toned legs
And strong shoulders
Were broken limbs and tired bones.
Awaiting relief from sickeningly rigid routines
That she was endlessly trapped in.

Love,
The Fitness Freak.

Thumb_signature_1533759363619
VISIONS
0
0
July 30, 2016
 

Dear Lettrist,
We've got two things wrong.

We speak with our fingers
And snap with our mouths.

Sincerely,
Miss. Foot in mouth :P

INTELLECTUAL
1
0
July 22, 2016
Chennai, India

Dear Lettrist,
Today I watched a man flee like he'd been freed from a Friday.
Yours truly,
The Weekend.

JOKING
4
0
June 19, 2015
 

Dear Lettrist,
I lost her to conversations I couldn't hear,
Her cocked eyebrows and the smirk that tickled her lips,
Locked away in a different world, far from here;
She told stories in her head that only she could be in.

The grounded gentleman.

2015 WOMEN'S WORLD CUP
0
0
July 10, 2016
 

Dear Lettrist,

In my city, in my city

The girls are pretty

And they like to party

In my city, in my city

I get to be anything I want to be.

In my city,  in my city

The girls are pretty

And they like to party

In my city, in my city

Over the loud music

You can never hear them scream

In my city, in my city

The pavements gleam

And everyone can see

In my city, in my city

Her die while she bleeds

And does not breathe.

In my city, in my city

The girls are pretty

And they like to party

In my city, in my city

I don't look up

I only look down

I can watch eyes follow up my skin

Underneath my clothes

I can feel soles of shoes

Graze up my shin

And up my skirt.

In ...

BANKSY SWING
4
0
July 10, 2016
Chennai, India

Dear Lettrist,

Is the world a constant reminder of
"Don't be pissed, don't be sour
Be a lady ever hour."
To you too today?

Yours,
Miss. Grumpy.

THE PENGUIN STAMP
2
0
April 13, 2016
 

Dear Lettrist,

I haven't heard from you in days,
but you still hold some of my memories,
like shattered glass clinging to ruptured skin
and like broken conversations passed around in bits of papers,
pocketed and treasured till we find them someday-
incomplete sentences, only we know the endings to.

Love,
A forgotten friend

ORIGINAL
3
0
January 23, 2016
Chennai, India

Dear Lettrist,
Poems written on Coffee stained paper,
Paper scrolls with Uneven edges,
Dimly lit rooms with static voices.
Blurred images of blurred faces.
A blot of misplaced ink
Untied shoelaces.
No makeup selfies.
Oddly placed punctuation.
Chipped paint underneath peeling wallpapers.
Mispronouced words.
Messy buns.

Messy is somehow the new dressy.
What a blessing to live in this era of capitalized imperfections.

Yours imperfectly,
A Perfect imperfectionist.

TRES CHIC
3
0
January 22, 2016
 

Dear Lettrist,

I've always been asked how I study while listening to music.


After all it's how know the lyrics by heart.

Sincerely,
I wish I could study sometimes.

ROCK STEADY
2
0
January 21, 2016
Chennai, India

Dear Lettrist,
My toes are staring at me,
When I look down at them consciously
aware of an awkward conversation;
They're watching me when I'm asleep;
When I'm sitting by myself
legs stretched out in front of me.
Their eyes are painted a dark blue
It was light pink a week ago.
Should I be worried?
Maybe not.
Maybe because I'm just imagining it.
They can't see you while you're asleep.
In awkward situations they don't look back at you.
they don't judge you quietly;
All ten pairs of eyes watching you silently.
They're not creepy.
they're just toes.
They are not going to kill me.

Sincerely,
Podophopic.

BREAKDOWN
0
0
August 21, 2015
Chennai, India

You can keep the world on her toes.
But your hands cannot tie me down.
I wasn't built to live trapped within your carefully calculated boundaries.
You chase after me relentlessly; your hands a breath away from me.
But I watch as they run past  me, through me and away from me,
Leaving me in a world where everyone's chasing you and you're chasing me.
You never wait for anyone.
But you won't find me running after you.
For I'm too busy making promises I cannot keep.
Time and again,  I'll defy you.

Yours sincerely,
The Procrastinator.

HANDS OF TIME
0
0
July 12, 2015
Chennai, India

When God made him deaf,
He also gave him a secret,
One he had to keep
because he also couldn't speak-
That there was more words in the silence
and in the maimed, a hundred words, only unsaid.

INTELLECTUAL
3
0
July 12, 2015
Chennai, India

From the stangnant water that pooled in the dark pits beneath her eyes,
ran down tears like the words she didn't dare tell anyone.
The Melancholic.

FOLLOW THE TEAR
3
0
June 18, 2015
 

Dear Lettrist,
Did you waste a minute to fathom
A word of gratitude
to Him who built this world with words.

the Ungrateful Theist.

ATTITUDE IS GRATITUDE
1
0
June 18, 2015
 

Dear Miss.Dayscholar,
We don't miss you or anything,
don't rely on it in your wildest dreams.
We don't miss your incessant chatter
when there are gaps in our conversations at dinner.
Our thoughts run amok through our tongues
Emboldened to hate, brazened to hurt
Without your rapt attention that hangs on to our every word,
Freed from the fear of disappointing you.

No one speaks to our souls
No one's words have a way of sinking through our skulls.
At  least not any more.

I don't miss the rasp in your voice when you sing,
I don't miss our late night conversation that end at morning.

So don't get carried away, when we wake up early every day,
Run to class to see your face,
Cause we don't mi...

MISS YOU
0
0
June 17, 2015
 

Dear Lettrist,
Are your sure you're alone in the dark?
With no faceless faces to put you to bed;
Their tears that wake you up with a cold sweat?
Certain that the sounds your hear
Are too familiar to fear?
If you look around in the dark, all alone,
Will you realize you're not the only one?

The Nyctophobic.

FEAR OF THE DARK
0
0
May 28, 2015
 

Dear Letterist,

You've stopped breathing.
You've stopped smiling.
You've stopped being you.
You.
You did this to yourself.

The answer is You.
It's always You.

You can build from scratch.
Turn mountains to rubble,
and rubble to mountains.

You can smile.
You can breathe.
You can be.

The choice is yours.

Yours,
The Pessimistic Optimist.

ORIGINAL
0
0
May 8, 2015
Seeyati, India

Dear Lettrist,

The melancholy will make you feel,
like the lack of oxygen makes you breathe.
Do not worry,
For the words you never speak
Will find a way to be free.

Yours,
Numb.

WISDOM
0
0
May 7, 2015
 

Dear Lettrist,
How do empty vessels say, 'Hello.'
- "Hollo(w)!"

Yours,
The Pun-dit.

ORIGINAL
0
0
May 2, 2015
Chennai, India

Dear Lettrist,
Help me overcome my fear of writing to you.
Yours,
The Open Lettrist.

ORIGINAL
0
0
May 1, 2015
 

Dear Lettrist,
There is this weird habit I've fallen into-
I blame everybody for my insincerity, insecurity, ineptness, but me.
And so I told myself one day, that I wouldn't do that.
That I'll blame myself for everything,  even if I wasn't the one being insincere, insecure or inept.
But, nobody let me do that.

Yours,
The Blame-r.

P.S: it's quite unfortunate the English language doesn't have one word that solely describes someone who blames anyone but themselves. Unless there is, then this clearly proves inefficiency of my primary education which never let me learn anything, that it has let me settle for a term that resembles something a 12-years old with a fake Facebook ID would come up ...

WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW
5
0
April 30, 2015
Seeyati, India

Dear Lettrist,
I sometimes rope people in, with my charm;
Knowing not that I'm capable of harm.

The Mean-iac.

ORIGINAL
0
0
April 28, 2015
Seeyati, India

Dear Lettrist,

I think heaters howl like a hundred spirits;
their souls trapped within.

The perils of using the bathroom, I tell you.

ORIGINAL
0
0
April 28, 2015
 

Dear Lettrist,

Is it fair to believe that we are the lucky few?
Privileged to not be buried a hundred feet below?
Or is it fair to be stuck in this bottomless pit of guilt?
Unable to lift a finger
Unable to hope for the better
While I stand frozen still.

PRAY FOR NEPAL
0
0
February 20, 2015
 

Dear Lettrist,
One of life's little joys include writing my name on the front of a brand new story book.
It's crisp pages waiting to be hastily thumbed with impatience and doggy-eared for another day;
to claim it and be marked by my lingering presence, so much so that if you were to read it after me, it would feel like you were following footprints that don't belong to you on the beach.

It's unfortunate I haven't made enough time to pick up a good book or devour the ones I'd bought vivaciously, only to find it stuck behind all the junk I've piled up for  over a year.
I'm glad that on the eve of yet another Pharmacology test, I've met you again with a new letter and had the time to share my ...

READER
4
0
February 7, 2015
Chennai, India

Words are like fists
Struggling against my skin;
Colliding with my bones,
Caged within;
Stuck inside.

------------------------
Thank you for reading  my feeble attempt at the Poets of Lettrs Challenge -2.

I'd like to thank Indelible MJ and Alok for nominating me!

And I'd like to nominate Ananya and Urvi Kapoor and Sahil Thakur!

I hope you enjoy writing a poem describing 'What words mean to you' with or within 26 words.

Love,  DD.

WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW
8
0
February 6, 2015
Chennai, India

Dear Lettrist,
How are you supposed to be there for someone, when the distance between the two of you cannot be measured by any known scale.

When the distance between you is filled with unspoken words, repressed envy and guilt?
You haven't said word, but you don't have to, to hurt them.
A look would suffice.
A sigh could too.

I'm caught in a vicious cyle.
I've never felt this way before.
And I cannot seem to get off this carousel.
Yours enviously,
The Green monster.

ORIGINAL
0
0