Shree Pandey: Poems

490 · Aug 15

Shree Pandey Aug 15

They say "I love you,"
But how am I supposed to know when they do and when they don't?
Isn't loving someone
Like the sparkling starry nights,
Like the mama birds returning to their nests with food for their little ones at night,
Like the old man who combs his wife's hair in the daylight,
Like the newborn's attachment to its mother,
Like the flying bird in cold weather,
Determined to find its partner.
Like the buds that grow to be a rose,
To be given to someone to propose.
Like the young couple’s fights and frowns.
How his sadness is hers, and they're each other's everything else.

But how does the love we try to find
Turn into the love we make, and it’s all about it?
Is it just the physical touch,
Or something deeper we can't fake?
Something so unbelievably magical,
Like riding unicorns with glittery wings
Through clouds named nine.

Where I can take him to be mine,
From where he can't leave like all the others did or (like fate forever entwined).
I haven't found him yet, but I will.
And even if I don't,
I have myself to love me still.

But oh, how I’d love to grow old with him,
Watching our little ones run around here and there,
Who are half me and half him.
In the home we create and build it with love.
Talking about the things that made us laugh
While we have no teeth.
Telling the coming generations about the love we had, saying we love each other still.

And when our time has passed,
May our love story be the guiding light—
The answers we searched for in our darkest nights.
A testament to the purest kind.

May they never feel alone, and see
The single thread weaving all around:
The stitches, the patterns it has been making.
The invisible string tying everything together beyond time.

For in the end, it’s not what we find,
But what we nurture inside, deep within our minds.

But how am I supposed to know it’s time
To nurture love for someone who may or may not be mine?

Wrote this on 8/12/2023

#love #truelove #real #patterns #lovestrings

438 · Sep 13

Pity,Pity No Pity Please

Shree Pandey Sep 13

Pity,Pity No Pity Please

Oh, what a pity
Mother never taught me the rule of being pretty.
I don’t know the rules of makeup,
I don’t know how to tie a bow ribbon.
I don’t have the pretty purses or skirts,
Nor the glasses, nor the shiny buttons.

Oh, what a pity—
What will I give to my daughter?
I have no secrets to be pretty,
No tricks with hair, no perfect bow ribbons.

Oh, what a pity—
Will she look down on me,
The way I look to momma?
She didn’t teach me to be pretty;
She taught me to be smart.

So what if I don’t know how to tie a bow ribbon?
I still know how to knot my laces.
So what if I don’t know how to curl my hair?
I still know how to make ponytails.
So what if I don’t know how to make different cuisines?
I still know how to cook for myself.

Not everything needs to be passed down;
Some things need to be acquired.
I’ll pass on my experiences to her,
And we’ll learn together on this journey.
No one knows everything,
But everyone knows something.

I’ll give her what she needs,
And teach her to acquire the rest.
As She’ll grow into a woman someday.

Oh, what a pity—
Is it everything to just be pretty?
I’ll teach her how to be her own hero,
To be her own model,
To be whatever she wants.

Being pretty, being smart,
Being casually funny,
Feeling sad, crying,
Learning, lying...
I’ll teach her all the colors of the spectrum,
To let her find her own color.

But first, I’ll find mine.
And surely, she’ll find hers too—
After all, She'd my daughter.

"Oh, what a pity"
Is something she’ll never have to say.
Because being pretty
Is not as important as she’ll one day guess.

Wrote on 27/01/25

#mother #daughters #elderdaughters #prettywomen

226 · Jul 7

Leaving was my WIN

Shree Pandey Jul 7

Leaving was my WIN

I walked the halls with heavy eyes,
Hiding a heart that used to rise.
Trusted the ones with demonic eyes.
I chased the laughter that wasn’t mine,
Wasted gold in fools’ designs.

They called themselves the "coolest crew,"
But more like they were, the fools
I sat at tables built on lies,
Shrinking small to fit their size.
They played me bad , they did me *****,
And I wish I left early.

I was a spark, a silent flame
Trapped in games that brought me shame.
Could've scored, but played it tame
Forgot that I had my own name,
Forgot that I had to make it once again.

Back then, I wore the blame with ease,
Got Punished and rarely praised, brought to my knees.
Cried and hurt ,
Died and in shredded in dust
Scolded loud while they stood still,
Falling grades, a fading will.

But As soon as I left the crew
I truly grew
the day they left, the sky turned bright,
The gold returned, my wings took flight.
I studied hard, I found my pace,
I saw the sun, I won the race.
Got a new table to sit on with people who brought out the best.

Certificates in shaking hands,
Claps filled the rooms I walked in.
Black belt was put on my waist,
5 medals dangling on my chest.
The teachers saw ,they praised.
I stood on stages and made my stand.
No second thoughts, no shrinking fear
I finally felt I truly belonged here.

But listen—you who still have breath
To carve your path, to leave them and turn into the best.
Don't blame yourself for not a win, change the environment in which you practice in.
You have potential, don't let them take it
Don't let them degrade it .
Change your circles before they change you to core.

Don’t trade your shine for shallow price
Choose the friends who hold you tight
Not those who dim your inner light.
You're not gonna die a lone wolf,
You'll have your pack and definitely the best one .

You are enough, without their toxic bond.
Your worth is not determined by their pocket's size.
If they can afford they will ,if not they're just poor and out of will.
And if you feel you’re all alone
You’re not.
Just trust me you'll be fine
I made it. I came home.
And you'll too arrive.

#poem #poetry #highschool #sad #uplifting #won

— The End —