love

All posts tagged love

Fashion over Men

Published December 16, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo

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Here’s my advice to you girls –
Never never give up on those splendid heels
Those majestic curls
And those invaluable pearls.

Keep reading if you want to know more,
Heartbroken or hung-over and need a cure?
It’s just a long poem for sure
That my haters will not endure.

If you’ve reached here, then read-on
Sometimes I talk of ‘ex’perience and witchdom
Like Eve was for Adam,
And Eve again for Fashion.

Caught between the two, her green coat came to the rescue,
She wore it on her date with Adam named Andrew
Two winters later her warm coat was still brand new
But where was Andrew? He had bid her adieu. 

Heartbroken for a while
She lost her heart but with a smile. 
Learnt a lot about Andrew and then Kyle
But above all learnt to value her style.

Damsel is meant for a beautiful sundress,
Not distress
could king be more powerful than Her Highness
In the game of chess?

The cycle continues
Every new dress is her muse,
Every heartbreak leads to new shoes,
Just kidding, if you know me well heartbreak is an excuse.

For Eve does what she likes,
Who cares if its stripes or motorbikes?
At the end of the day it’s about who has her heart
Will it be Romeo in distress or an online shopping cart?

You decide on that,
I’ll read what I just wrote……..
Cold and lonely as I end my note
I’ll recline back to my warm and loyal green coat.

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A Beautiful Dream of Death.

Published November 29, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo

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Her soul finally took its liberty,

The bodily bondage gripped with head, shoulder and the knee,

Death seemed to be the only key

That embraced mortals with eternity.

She’s gone now,

No monument of words and vows

Could fill the hollow

And her final sigh was her taking the bow.

Life had entertained her,

The tales she told proved her domineer,

A balanced being- kind and austere

A person I adored calling her grandmother.

It has been ages since her departure,

But why haven’t my lines spoken of her?

She used to live on this sphere,

Very much like you and me, thinking she had forever.

This of course, was the half- truth,

Our death isn’t the reason of birth,

Condemned maybe we to earth,

But our soul is more than worldy worth.

There’s this day which you ought to know,

Like me you’ve lost someone you loved…so here I go,

Do not judge for the words take turn,

Listen to my lines for life returns.

Not exactly the way you think,

But clouds turn silver and skies go pink.

His eternal grace draped in orange,

Stands imperial looking down the heavenly range.

This day the blessed spirits visit,

The place they used to call home, whilst.

Dressed in the finest silks of heaven

The only day when heaven lies open.

The home made holy with burning incense,

The incense made holier with their presence.

Close to the heavens driven by angels, they weave

The breach made my Adam and Eve.

The limited time they get from above,

To visit the worldly ties and proclaim their love

She told me too, forever does not consist of adieu

Because love once shared is always true.

With that said, she prayed and blessed

My tiny home without her addressed.

Her being in ethereal raiment

Became one with the earthly element.

Suddenly the earth seemed like earth,

Place for death and no spiritual rebirth.

But the fragrance of the incense

Lingered to deliver the sense.

I woke up then, it was all a dream,

It felt all so real, it couldn’t have been!

I had known something I had never known

That death is the darkness before the dawn.

So be it what I seek.

Published August 4, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo

You are definitely familiar with what I am going to write. Has it occurred to you the unfathomable soundless crash which you experienced for the first time, and you could hear yourself make that murmuring promise amidst the heart piercing sobs that you’re never going to experience the same thing again because you are going to guard the most precious yet so common attribute that makes us too sensitive for our own kind? Who knew our greatest strength could also be our greatest weakness? Feelings. Familiar much? You have that right? You are containing it inside of you when you are reading this. Don’t get me wrong I am not expressing my feelings here as it is assumed to be the labor of the desperate. I recall that one of my first poem which happened to be published in a local magazine was entitled ‘’feelings’’, God knows what a ten year old me knew then about the very subject that today I stand groundless. All I am saying is that I am guilty of having feelings.
I had sworn to myself after my first heart break that I would never be careless again. Years after struggling to be scornfully wiser, I found myself making the same promise. Which of course lead me to analyze the commonness and the vagueness of the same thing and as a genius that I am needless to say I failed. Somehow I just mustered myself to share my thought with you because I don’t want to feel alone in this indefinite cycle. People randomly come and go in the breeze of which we forget that we are not a by stander, we are as involved. Most of the times we do not make an effort to stay or to make them stay and when we selectively try to hold on to them our expectations fall short. It is not their fault and what those bitchy quotes have to say about wrong people leaving is not true either. It is not their fault nor is it ours. What do you expect in a world where fakeness is given priority? And to be bluntly honest with you, my dear reader I am as fake as the world is because I blend in. Anyway that is not my topic, I am rather awed by how spectacular each day is getting. Living everyday and experiencing as little a change how can it be suddenly so profound? Who are making those changes and why is it happening?
Trust me I am no scholar but these miracles that happen every day is beyond my comprehension. Everything changes, yet it repeats. We move on but we make the same mistake again. It’s the human hunger… for more. Nothing has, nothing will, nothing ever will satisfy our hunger. Feelings are as selfish, it demands to be expressed but when we do so it is not enough. Feelings expressed are only a quarter of what it is felt. Therefore, it is never enough. I knew what the outcome of having feelings would be and yet in pride I swelled and declared and eventually the truth prevailed. I would never be happy because I wanted more than what I already had and same with the other person.
In the end, despite of wanting more we reluctantly oblige with limited happiness and that we call it a compromise. It’s our fundamental law on which relationships thrive and that is how a lifelong relationship is maintained. But feelings, refuses to be tamed. We don’t govern it; it governs us that is the reason why we have humiliating cases of unrequited love and poems. Feelings don’t compromise and that is why I doubt if it was ever meant for humans.

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JUST

Published July 7, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo

How I thought I had it all figured,
The story that only lives in the past
Should’ve manifested with a better outcome
And should’ve made fragments more than just a mere memory.
Did it make me all that I am?
Or am I still in the process of being something I am not, but should be?.
Those major arcanas show me hopeful
Those crystal balls go green,
I am excited yet so scared
Of what my life will be.
The rhymes of que sera sera
Whatever will be will be.
A larger portion of my life in learning and etiquette
Leaves me with a meager sum to live
To love more or to understand.?

The vehicle around town for a day
Adorned with flowers and reading signs of ‘’just married’’
And that is the problem with JUST
It is not going to stay forever.
You can have the’ JUST’ for a minute or for a day
But it will eventually fade away.
The momentary ‘JUST’ suspends the outcome
And in its wide but narrow arms we find solace.
A comfort of postponing with the word.

So I thought I had it all figured,
But older you grow
Less wise you become.
For in those tiny hands you had back then
Was JUST tiny but would mould the clay in your way.
With age we lose power and give in to those who could control us,
Not to those who should.
Not a clue where to go next,
Not wanting to settle for less
Searching all heaven and blue
For the tide to push me forward
….and also for the excuse.
You know me well when you read me,
When in JUST ten minutes I scribble with a pen
Just that life has got me saturated
Why you may ask?
Because my life is marked with infinite JUSTS
And as of now I JUST Graduated
And that is the problem with JUST,
the beginning of it always ends.

What’s so special about Darjeeling Girls???

Published January 23, 2014 by reginaginaxoxo

I am dying of boredom and despite of having tons of business to mind about esp. my upcoming exams I choose to start doing something that I have never attempted before. Actually I have but very few of you know that I am/ was a freelance writer and I love writing but I am hardly passionate about (anything). My honesty won’t be the best policy it seems. Getting to the point, today is one of those days where you hardly care about anything and you just want to twist and turn and sought your way out of the life that hardly seems moving. I’ve been irregularly sharing my personal poems and thanks to around 20 followers who read it. Well, today I decided to actually write something non-poetic. I KNOW I KNOW! I’ve been writing about Darjeeling like gazillion times and if it was legit for you, my readers ,to shoot me every time I mention ‘Darjeeling’  I’d be a living crocs by now or perhaps dead. But the place is such, my hometown is such that it has bewitched me and I am nothing less than fascinated, so here again I choose to write about Darjeeling….wait! Don’t quit reading! I am here to write about Darjeeling ‘Girls’ get your interest stimulated.

It is so easy to identify a girl from Darjeeling even if you’re in a crowded market place five or five hundred thousand miles away from hometown and you’ll have no clue she is Indian. Hold your breath I am in no mood to sing praises because only donkeys do that neither am I going to mock because only bitches do that, I’ll simply state the truth with a little bit of exaggeration because I can do thatJ.

  • Darjeeling girls complain about ‘’tan’’ but when a third pair of eyes see them they’re remarked to have a wonderful (mostly) fair skin.

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  • They’ve heard it once, they’ve heard it twice. How the hell can cheeks look like apples?

When you hear that people are complimenting your natural blush…. I hope and not the round or heart shaped face structure. :p .

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  • And there are those times when that natural blush turns into a catastrophic situation in an extremely hot climate….siliguri for example and every single pair of eyes simply ogling at you
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And you’re like what are they THINKING?

  • When travelling beyond the realms of familiarity people start addressing you as Chinese, Japanese and everything non- Indian but pro- Asian ( okay that came out wrong, but you get it right?). Tired of explaining and tired of hearing the traumatic response …. You just play along!

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  • People suddenly get so curious about you! I mean about your hair. ‘’So what shampoo do you use?’’ “Your straightened hair is fabulous!’’ “How did you curl your hair like that?’’. Oh I use kalo saboon and everything in my hair is au naturale… even if it is not.. So what? The secret of the hills are not meant to be shared.

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  • The ones who are above 5ft 3 inches are considered tall. Not just tall in D-town they are considered lucky and every tall girl has her air hostess or modeling dream achieved. Rest of us…..well sigh. I was reading Paradise Lost book one and I wondered if the dwarfs of the Himalayas was referred to us  :/ oh nvm didn’t mean to depress you. If you are above 5 ft you’re okay and if not… the secret why Darjeeling girls wear heels –revealed.

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  •  You go on a first date :- climax is…..

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  • Nevermind any of the above things mentioned. Don’t you think Darjeeling people in general  are ferociously talented? There is nothing called mediocre here. You can dance so captivatingly or even sing putting nightingale to shame (told you I would exaggerate)  and be a metal head rocking the Chowrasta festival or leisurely serenading on your guitar ? Often being the subject of envy of others. No offence but  I know you agree.

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  • So I drifted a bit from my topic…. Where we we? Ahh yes. Why are Darjeeling girls special?  They say three W’s of Darjeeling aren’t to be trusted ‘’WEATHER,WINE and WOMEN’’  I guess a loser said that because the ‘weather’ of D- town though unpredictable is enigmatic and phenomenal because everything that is predictable is boring. ‘Wine’ well about that I do not fairly know much because we drink wine that is imported along with the rest of the world so I don’t know why Darjeeling’s wine in particular is not to be trusted? As long as it is not ‘Raksee’ they were referring to, my point seems valid enough. And ‘Women’… now what do I need to fathom or justify as I know a loser made that up? The letter ‘D’ itself define a woman of Darjeeling – Desirable yet Dignified.

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  • Though referred to as a small town girl, do not mess with her, do not underestimate her and do not provoke her. Reasons?

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  • Sometimes a misfit but definitely not a loner. Darjeeling girls are cheerful, pretty and nice though I cannot say that for some psychopaths , like every case here too lies an exception. Hey! I was just kidding. Daughters of the queen irrespective of all social evils that envelops our country are to be respected no matter how different or unlike we look. We are Indians nevertheless and have pledged the same National pledge calling ourselves as an ‘INDIAN’ . Darjeeling girls and people in general are special and feel special no matter what the circumstances are because we are one of the reason  why India is known as a ‘Diverse and multi-cultural’ nation.

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And you make all the difference. 🙂

So it took me two complete hours to write this and I hope I made you smile and made you feel special. This is a locally based article(as if you couldn’t figure -_- ) so let me know if you liked it or hated it and give me your opinion if I should do these non-poetical  stuffs more often and I believe I missed a lot of points so do share your idea below. Thanks. Love you if you read this far Xo
I know the title is sexist…..but that is how i got you to read all of this 😀
– Regina Gurung

LIVING MY SOUL

Published July 16, 2013 by reginaginaxoxo

ImageThey say the spirit and the body makes a man whole…

But what if I want to be free and live my soul?

What if the beautiful things are not seen

What if there’s an exceeding unknown beauty within?

What if the living so called is not living but dead…

And dead rather awake.

The soul lives and the body lives,

The body dies but the soul still lives.

What is anything divine…beyond creation?

When everything is an assumed illusion?.

Dust am I to Dust I return

But I am a soul…where do I belong?

The Earth and the Paradise

Have been shuffled by the wise.

The attributes of a man and all those courage

God himself said was made in his image…

If literally , was that his goal?

To make a man physical with a soul?

Why couldn’t He make or remake

A wind like soul widely awake…

Like invisible seasons coming and going

Not leaving us wondering but rather a feeling.

That way Adam and Eve would’ve no fall

No sin, no lust, nothing corporal.

No fever and no fret

But only the serene God’s breath.

No face to judge, no physical fall

Graceful and living, yet invisible.

Jesus wouldn’t had to be betrayed

Lord Buddha, at home could’ve stayed.

There would be no blood nor murder

Nor anything amiss the shatter.

Distance wouldn’t matter for nothing would be far

Nor could the physical eye witness the horror of the war.

Living body-less

Even Devil couldn’t possess,

No treachery, no lies nor good-byes

No hollow meaning that we are born to die.

But life half-imagined

Is fully challenged.

The superior voice decides

And we mortals do abide…

The body and the soul

As the holy communion is one whole…

For body is it’s own heaven

And in the death of which we find salvation.

 

THANK THE UN-THANKED

Published July 1, 2013 by reginaginaxoxo

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The grey walls I am writing about,

A cemented block and of course the color grey….

A gloomy color no doubt

But not a tragic story to say.

You can be familiar

With the same faded memories,

Life of difference yet so similar

For even inanimate things have histories.

I am not talking about the past, for all it brings is plague

Nor of the people remarkable or hardly remembered

But those long-gone days so precious and vague

Of tales forgotten the service rendered and non –living life treasured.

The look on your face—-

The confused look that my lines seem a riddle

Not and clear defy time and space

The grey walls I am talking about just recall….

Years ago add or divide the ten

A privileged eyes to enter the magnificent gate

The same hands holding a beloved now holds a pen

Recall those days and count backwards till date.

You and I share the same story

maybe not the same memory.

The days of innocence-yes my topic

A young old grey walls a total nostalgic.

A cartoon bag did you have it too?

Being so tidy just to be untidy

Did you realize we are the privileged few?

To be loved when returned with a bruised knee.

The colors painted the gray classroom

Just to match the new souls so bright

Ravages of time we couldn’t half assume

The gray walls turned bright or bright souls gone white….

Imagination too painted the grey classroom

The question why my blackboard was green

One loving matron coming to broom

The dirty floors magically clean.

The cruel mates who stole the favorite toy

Pencils and sharpeners the latest accessory.

Homeworks would hardly annoy…

as Teachersto tell our favorite story.

Where are those days now?

Could the cycle of life or the parallel universe get it  back?

Gone are those days and facing it with ignorant How’s!

Today, yesterday’s tomorrow goes back to black.

Many words,lyrics and poems emerge

Of memories,childhood etc by the greatest poets.

I, a no-one yet, writing a dirge

Not of the dying year but of the dead walls and chalk baskets.

When the world itself chooses to lose it’s value

Or a woman herself willing to give up her virtue

On what absurd subject could my poem be ranked?

…when I simply want to Thank the un-Thanked.

–         The grey walls that I recall

–         The greatest friends I’ve made

–         The place where I learnt my prayers

–         And also to tie a shoe lace

–         The stories that you and I can share

–         -the place where I learnt to love and care

–         The unthanked walls still there…………….

XO Regina.