Skip to main content

She's complicated

She's complicated.
She'll charm you with charts,
statistics and that corporate smile.
But look into those eyes,
they're fiercely bohemian.

She's complicated.
Her chatterings seem to resonate
with happy sounds,
but listen with the other ear,
to an unhidden lament.

She's complicated.
Her silences agonise,
her voice echoes in her absence.
And yet there is a mild dread
as her name flashes on the ringing phone.

She's complicated.
Sometimes she's a poetess,
shallow, romantic,
trying to hide a sardonic,
world-weary wit.

She's complicated.
She could be a spiteful Fury,
wrath unabated,
but that's just to hide
the lamb-hugging girl within.

She's complicated.
She's an enchantress, a fool,
a tyrant, a nurse, an imp, a priestess,
but she's generally
a good friend.

She's complicated.

Published in Making Waves - A Poetry Anthology, ed. Pam & Bill Swyers; Swyers Publishing 2011. ISBN: 978-0-9843113-6-1.

Comments

Ozymandias said…
Thank you so much!
ankurpandey said…
writing poetries in hindi, english & tamil !!!
u are awesome.

-a new student at iisc
Ozymandias said…
Thank you, that was kind of you!
Anonymous said…
Lovely!!! But Ozzy, this is like most women ;-) That's the way this fairer sex is supposed to be, I guess!! Things that are too simple are boring, right?
Ozymandias said…
writerzblock, most people are complex, but predictable. She's complicated!
Diana D'Souza said…
Hi Raamesh,

This is written so well. Reminded me of the song "She's always a woman to me" by Billy Joel.

Definitely looking forward to more such stuff from you.

--
Diana

Popular posts from this blog

Nellie, 1983

Very often the sun rises in warm, golden rays on opening buds, birdsong and dewdrops, and the stench of stale death. Very often the sun rises Upon mutilated men - blood drying over their eyes and gore-caked machetes rusting in their abdomens. Very often the sun rises over hyaenas fretting over the carrion going waste - they can eat no more, nor can the vultures. Very often the sun rises on a day already defeated - shrieking, screeching, screaming, demanding that it go back for there was peace in the night. Published in Tranquil Muse 2018.

The Flying Scotsman

Yont   brattlin  clood an seelent glen Tweetlin a-lood the ingine skirls this noisome train wi lanely men hame-comin whaur thair lassies birls whit lends thay awe, an whit dets thirls whit ailin mam, whit seekly bairn thair dreams forby the train-smeuk swirls bi new gless tour or auncient cairn thay ken nae sang, thaur herts made airn thair mynds full o the twalmonth tack regairdless o loch, pen or tairn thay anely think o whit thay lack ay but thinkna muckle o it ye an a, we're an aw in it Published in Amaravati Poetic Prism 2017 ed. Padmaja Iyengar, Cultural Centre of Vijayawada & Amaravati