So, for the first time, I decided to let go, and not be tied down by the bonds of rhymes. Ergo, my first attempt at free verse 🙂
A lot of times, my best friends (who I would show something when I’m not too sure of it myself) ask me, “How do you write?! I can’t seem to be able to write!”
This is for all those people who want to write, but think they can’t.
Lies. Give it a shot, and you’ll see you can 🙂 You only have to be true to yourself.
A sheet of paper lay on the board
Clipped securely on one end
So that it didn’t fly away-
Just like Riya’s thoughts
They too, needed an anchor
As they ran amok in her head.
One leg crossed over another,
The foot shaking to and fro,
Just like the pen in her hand
That she kept twirling around.
She bit her lip, thinking
She was lost.
Then her mother’s words came to mind.
“There’s something in everyone,
They’re just not noticing you well enough,” she’d said,
When Riya came home crying
From school one day.
Crying because she’d been called ugly.
No one liked being called ugly.
“Am I really ugly?” she’d asked Mom.
“No one’s really ugly.
There’s beauty in everything if you look close enough.”
All Riya had to do, was look close enough.
And so, she did.
She looked up from her paper,
Stopped poring over the endless blankness of it.
A small boy entertained passersby
With his cheap tricks
A smile on his face, which got more hopeful
When someone passed him and glanced.
A little girl and her mother walked by
The child pulled the edge of her Mother’s top
And pointed at the little boy.
Her mother smiled and walked back,
Dropped a note in the boy’s purse,
Making him smile wider than Riya thought possible.
A car whizzed past, and for a minute
Riya’s view of the boy was obliterated
And then she heard the angry shout
Of a man who had been splattered
When the car went into a ditch.
The little girl giggled at the drenched man.
It made Riya giggle too.
She lowered her pen to the paper,
And suddenly she found herself
Writing about the little girl
Who innocently giggled at the drenched man,
Who was the apple of her mother’s eye,
Who reminded Riya so much of herself.
She wondered if the girl
Would grow up like Riya- a writer.
She hoped no one would call the little girl ugly.
Because Riya was looking intently
And to her, the girl
Was nothing but lovely.