Alisha Nangia’s poem: Birthday Poem: 3.14

Before my world revolves

 it's thirty third turn 

around the sun,

I hesitate, ruminate 

on skirmishes never won-

silver bullets in a wooden gun.

former amours– dusted, done.

Some were charming, alarming

with lusty gaze,

some waxed skillful in words

that aimed to betray-

some entangled in self-doubt,

miasmic, putrid haze –

some led astray

through briars and brambles

that grazed.

 And others were sweet, you know, a sugar pill, effective as a placebo.

 and once upon a time,

(if my memory serves me right,)

someone attempted,

(quite heroically)

to exorcise my demons-

(quite unsuccessfully) …

But listen!

I must pause this reminiscing

(quite abruptly), 

because look!

there is

no proud rose flaying me

with inky thorns,

no righteous sunflower 

turning it's face from me,

no shrinking violet shying from responsibility,

I view a secret fern

growing steadily,

almost leisurely,

across the shadow slope of midsummer days.

And I know,

although autumn is inevitable,

regret lies heavier than the smell of bitter almonds,

and for now-  

it is summer still.

Alisha is a high-school English teacher who believes that she writes because she cannot unthink, unsay or unfeel stuff.

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