hello goodbye

it’s strange the way names and faces
and inside jokes slip in and out of life
because life is a road is a river is a sky
and these people, they are, each of them,
a hitchhiker catching a ride in your car,
beside you for only that one ride,
they are pebbles being skipped, 
whispering wishes, in your waves,
they are clouds, moving slowly,
forming pictures, then turning into rain
a goodbye riding in tow with every hello
it’s a strange profession
carrying the role of ‘stepping stone’,
every hundred or so days you
hear a hundred or so ‘hello’s and
restart the countdown to a hundred or so
goodbyes

— wishing you all well. thank you for the visit, every one of you

the other side

it’s human nature, isn’t it, to focus on what we lack, rather than what we have?

that’s where the grass being green on the other side idea kind of comes from.

or those thoughts that start with “if only…”

if only i was there instead of here, things would be better.

if only i had this instead of that, i could be better.

why else would someone who has just published their first book, earned a growing fanbase, a steady career

feel like they haven’t accomplished enough in life?

why else would someone who has a caring family, several close friends, a loving relationship

feel like they’re alone and unwanted?

we call it a weakness, this tendency to focus on what is missing, rather than what is there.

“humanity’s fatal flaw” she called it.

but maybe it isn’t always so bad. maybe it’s not always a weakness. maybe it’s often our greatest strength.

because why do we focus on what we don’t have? to keep us moving forward, to keep us striving for that elusive place where things are better, we are better. we are scared of feeling completely at peace because maybe that would mean we are done. the story is done once we reach ‘happily ever after’.

and no one wants to be done.

so we keep looking for holes to fill – not just us as individuals, but us as the human race – so we can keep having something to do, something to head toward, or at least something to complain about, something to cry about, something to do something about other than close the book and say ‘the end. we have achieved a state of imperfect perfection. we are now done.’

dear dandelion, you are

and i think one of the most beautiful things just might be
spring breezes in the summer
warm breezes in the winter
serendipitous surprises just because
just because you are who you are
and, love, this is all you ever needed to hear
orange lullabies and bedtime stories we still hold dear
and the sparrow chirps back when its babies call
the flowers dance even as the nights they fall 
because someone out there just maybe, really knows
how this story was meant to go, yet
that doesn’t stop us from hoping, holding, making wishes
turning just any other dandelion from weed to wings as
the spring breeze blows even as far north as we are.
and ice-cream and stickers that glow in the dark
and animal hats and cake and wandering stars 
still do sing, truly. so he takes her hand, truly.
and i think this just might be one of the most beautiful things
this life this love this everything in the everyday this
just because you are. you are.

new book: through love, lies, and other things that exist

Screen Shot 2015-08-11 at 10.19.09 PM

A Collection of Poems and Words

AVAILABLE HERE
E-book: https://payhip.com/b/vUaP
Softcover/Hardcover: http://www.blurb.ca/user/store/rainsharmin

i wanted to write lyrics with these flowers
and thorns and stars you’ve tattooed across my arms and my chest; but maybe these thoughts and feelings are too scattered for song. so maybe i’ll write these uncaged words instead.

i ran into something unbelievable last winter.
it came into our lives in the fall. and it grew and grew. and by winter, it was so huge, that the whole world had to morph and widen and brighten to fit it. this morphing, and widening, and brightening was a journey filled with light and dark, learning and growth, hope and doubt, dreams and rude awakenings, shock and wonder.
these poems and lyrics and words are a documentation of that journey.
a journey through love, lies, and other things that exist.

labels. (excerpt from “the art of breaking”)

labels.
as soon as we grow up, we get labelled.
stamped, dated, labelled.
birthdate. time. place. weight. height. worth.
name.
an arbitrary name we have no choice in, yet it becomes
something so intricately woven into everything we do
for (usually) pretty much the rest of our lives

as we grow, we accumulate more and more labels
likes. dislikes.
school. program. skills. talents.
derogatory terms. categorizing terms.
brands we wear, bands we love.

our personalities end up being boxed into these few labels
some others stamp on us. and some we stamp onto ourselves.

and that’s what we become.

enclosed and contained within our own selves,
taped and packed and labelled.

not yet. just now.

aahh, stumbled upon one of my old poems from when i was about fifteen or something~ ^^


stop squinting and looking into the far distance
what you can’t see
    you [don’t think] of
look at what you can see
    what’s here with you now
look up at the sky
breathe in the wind
don’t search for meaning [beyond the horizon]
stay in the here.
        look at the now.
no back.
no beyond.
        look up.
                to your feet.
        look to the side.
                beside you.
        at me.
        at us.
        m e y o u
                allofeverything.
        [everything is here.]

yes. im not leaving (yet).
                                not “yet”
                                just “now”
i’m here (for) now
                                what “for”
                                just “now”
in my head
        [i]
think of what i didn’t do yet
                                not “yet”
                                think “now”
i think.
    of what i will be thinking of.
when i go.
                                “will be?”
yes.
                                no.
yes. i will be –
                                no. “will be” is not “now”.
        [am]
i am.
                                you are.
i am staying.
(for) –
                                what “for”.
                                “n o w.”
i am staying beside you.
                                you are here
                                in this
        [content]
                                moment.
                                now.
everything is here.
now.
                                [now].

novel excerpt.

she reads a lot.
but novels, not so much.
she likes poetry because poems are often not about
tim or tom or daisy or doll
they are about you.

it’s like reading a song where you get to pick the tune.

and in these books, she found pieces of herself.
which was something so dear to her.

because so much of her was lost.

when she was young
she wore her heart on her sleeve
and gave out pieces of it to others
unconditionally
but they broke those pieces and left her
and now she had these holes in places she couldn’t reach
and if only band-aids could fix a broken heart

there’s this boy,

there’s this boy; his name means ambitious and auspicious and someone who soars.

he is beautiful, and hard working, and he definitely does soar.
but the biggest thing about him is that
his heart is filled with so much love,
his capacity for it amazes me.

so of course, this boy meets a girl, and many things happen
and all the things that happen, if you really get a chance to see them,
leave you with the feeling like
ah. so this is what they meant by “love”.

(and oh, so this can happen outside of a movie script?)

.

so what i want to do is…
– i want to write their story.

but i don’t know how to write something based on true events
without saying too much, or fabricating too much.

it seems like it’ll be a story with all feelings, no plot.
all telling, no showing.

is that okay?

can i write something like that?

just a pure, simple story
of my observations of other people’s stories?

is that something i can write?