poet
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On writing
If I taught poetry to students, I’d ask them to write in the language they think in and use the thesaurus wisely when they don’t. A simple sentence like the petrichor wafts through the mountains, bringing with it the smell of rich earth dampened by the rain can turn into a pappyshow of decent writing… Continue reading
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Say something clichéd
Say something clichéd like those three overused words, the crux of RomComs and evocative drama movies, detailing how Jack endured it all — the fire and the crimson droplets to find Jane, trudging through snow and madness. No one has ever said them to me without a hint of hypocrisy: an askew semblance of jade,… Continue reading
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Today, tomorrow, forever
I don’t think anybody leaves this life in a state of blissful contentment, having achieved everything they set out to do. There’s always the question of the books you didn’t read, the people you let slip away, the pain you unnecessarily let in and the happiness you recklessly forsook. Maybe it’s different if you’re a… Continue reading
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Love and reprobation
Meet me where the earth cracks and a dying stream breathes its last, where the ashen peaks lose their charm and look tobacco stained, where the asphyxiated grass choked by some sadistic, otherworldly force gasps and wheezes, where love meets reprobation and we’re broken, neglected sinners in the hands of a silent sovereign, because when… Continue reading
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Withered
After we made love the other night, I looked at you, lying naked, silhouetted against the moonlight that crept into our apartment like a voyeur. I let my fingers trace the outline of your body—the curves and the arched back, speaking a language of fiery oranges and whispered reds. I then looked at the surrounding… Continue reading
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When nothing is enough
Trigger warning: This poem, though fictional deals with severe depression, suicide, grief. I visited you in the hospital yesterday. You’d survived your second attempt, much more gruesome than the first. People from church who never asked you how you were gathered around you like a shoal of bream around a diver. Praying and holding your… Continue reading
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Break up poem
Walking into the apartment where I spent so much time with you, I can’t help but be inundated with memories, the times we spent doing nothing but talking for hours on end about the most inconsequential things, the times we spent watching ‘something that will make us laugh,’ because we were so tired of the… Continue reading
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Post-Valentine’s Day Sonnet (with audio recording)
I think I’m letting go of the unsettling past with every tick and tock of the old clock, with each sweet, precious moment spent with you. I’m holding fast to rhythms, patterns, and things I’d deemed out of reach; songs, sequences, and echoes promising much more than dying haunts — the yellowing grass and spoilt… Continue reading
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A very Freudian poem
My old man’s castrating me today. I know it. I can feel it in my balls. The anxiety like unsettling waves of darkness making me cower and hide. Peekaboo, he says with a lopsided grin, and I want to tell him I don’t see mother that way, despite what the mad theorist says. There’s no… Continue reading
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A not so pleasant drive
I’m trapped in my old sedan. It’s like the Sicilian Bull, the fires roasting me, and in agony, I pound the steering wheel and press the horn, though the hairpin bends as sharp as scythes stay deserted, except for the hard rain, the water like blood sluicing, the wipers like metal claws scraping the glass… Continue reading
About Me
Ordinary Person is a guy who likes to write. He writes fiction, essays, poems and other stuff.
Ordinary Person 