Staringoutthewindow's Blog

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Evening walks

I just thought poetry is a better pill to forget ‘birthing’ pains my period is causing. Ouch. The image is not mine. I just googled it. (Yeah, google is a verb now.) So this one goes to my bestfriend who made every possible thing to be romantic. *Winks*

We love to walk on evenings

When shadows fall on trees

When flowers go a prayin’

By bending on their knees.

When skies lit up we see

Our future fast unfold

And love is home to you and me

At the end of every road.

May 7, 2010 Posted by | Poetry | , , , | 2 Comments

If I were a book

I would be  thick

On the rows of shelves

With seemingly dull cover

But glossy pages. 

The solitary witness

Of my meaning,

Of  my colors,

Of my words,

Would be the numbers

On my pages.

 For a long time

I would sit there

Damp but hopeful

Trusting on the author…

That someday…


I would be found…

Not only by some curious mind

But by my author’s own hands.


May 7, 2010 Posted by | Poetry | | Leave a comment

Four years and counting

You did not quip a pick-up line like other guys would do

 You did not even say hello you just smiled the way you do. 

I called your name and you came close, you winced in tummy pain 

 You’ve eaten much that Christmas night, your face –I can’t explain.


I was at work that very time, you asked if you could come

I got you meds which you did take  and gladly said your ‘Thanks’.

We shyly did exchange some words, and laughed a little loud

Wasn’t sure of  how I looked or acted with you around.


You said that time, I looked so thin and my hair a tangled mess

You said I needed feeding and my skin was not so great.

I said you looked addicted to some dope or something less,

Not even captivating to sweep me off my feet.


I’m laughing now, as I write this, about the time we met

I never thought we would be friends and more than friends indeed,

Just funny how I turned my back and said, “I don’t like you!”

When all the while, was fighting hard just not to fall for you.


I thank you for the funny socks to keep me warm at night

For roses on my birthdays, for  “love pigs”  I delight.

For placing comb in every bag, for hugging when I’m sad

For cooking ‘till I gained more weight, something you want so bad.


I miss our church together, our long walks in the night

 You, singing me my favorite songs it really felt so right.

You always paid attention, to my stories and may rants

You know exactly days we shared including all the months.


It’s been four years and counting our love has  grown so deep

I will hold on to good mem’ries we’ve thousands more to keep.

I wouldn’t mind to count the years, the future I foresee,

As Browning said, “Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.”



May 7, 2010 Posted by | Poetry | | 1 Comment