Tug of War

-Cleverquacks

Loving you felt like many things:
Like fresh daisies in the spring,
Like hot cups of tea on early mornings,
Like the school gates opening on the last day of term—freedom.

Loving you felt exciting:
Like a long-awaited sequel of your favourite book,
Filled with hopes and great expectations
That we'd be amazing together.

Everyone said we'd be amazing together.
It was written in the stars,
And the oceans whispered it to me with every wave that crashed onto the shore.
Everything led back to you.

Every thought, every rock wedged in the wet sand,
Every comic, every ice cream shop
Reminded me of you;
All awkward waves and sweet smiles.

And I loved you.
I loved you because everyone that knew about us
Made me feel like I had to.
That it was only right.

You were all I could think of,
The months where I gave, and I gave, and I gave.
Something between us shifted; like a bed for two but one side was cold,
And I realised maybe you didn't love me the same.

In the end, loving you felt like
A game of tug-of-war, a lovely one,
Until I found that I—
I was the only one still holding the rope.

Birds vs Humans

-Cleverquacks

Birds, flying off to freedom.

What must it feel like?

Soaring, gentle breeze rustling the feathers of our spirits;

Not a thought, a worry, a care in the world.

I remember wishing for myself to wake up one day as a bird,

Never mind my fear of them:

The mere call of a crow startling me out of my skin.

Forget that, leave it aside.

If I was a bird, I'd be so free.

Fresh meals, well earned—Fought for.

A deep sense of fulfilment

Over the simplest accomplishments.

I realize now, being human is challenging;

A life of highs and lows and confusion,

And we yearn for peace: A painless death; A stormless life.

But I know now. The pain is what makes us human.

It's what makes us beautiful.

The Fair Lady of the Palace of Jinn

-Cleverquacks

(This is a retelling of the Maldivian folktale 'Hanndi Ganduvaru Dhonkamana' with my own alterations.)

Centuries before, a long time ago,
There lived a young man like any other.
He grew up in the trees, as light as a breeze,
Passionate and loyal, especially to his mother.

As young Ahmed grew, his hard work grew too,
And soon he was one of the finest;
A carpenter beyond his time, a star just starting to shine,
As his woodwork sat in the palace with His Highness.

Every morning 'til noon, sometimes until he met the moon,
He'd traverse into the thick woods without company:
A man hard at work, no-one could determine his worth;
The effort it took to become somebody.

No one had really known why he went to the woods
They assumed it was just his slow pace.

But he was singing with a woman, her voice so beautiful, it captured the woodsman 

In a trance, his heart trapped in her heavenly cage. 

In the late hours of the day, he’d roam ‘til his sight turned grey, 

Listening to the voice and her sweet melody. 

They sang of love and affection, of purpose and direction, 

Her voice was his soul’s yearned remedy. 

Soon, this became the highlight of his day, to sit under the trees and to her soft voice sway, 

And he’d realised that he’d fallen in love with her deeply. 

She became everything to him without once seeing face-to-face, 

And he soon discovered the true meaning of beauty. 

“Oh, my darling, oh, my love, 

How I wish I’d se the when look above, 

Your voice is sweeter than honey, of that I am certain, 

But I can’t be certain if you’re as pure as a dove. 

How my heart burns with questions, 

I can hardly withstand this doubt. 

A man only has o much patience, 

And mine is running out!” 

He looked up at the sky, and he couldn’t believe his eyes, 

The beauty he saw was truly very rare. 

A lady so fair, with dark ankle-length hair, 

And suddenly, he couldn’t get enough air. 

“I have heard your songs, we’ve sung together for so long, 

And I am sorry for puting you in such agony. 

But now, here I stand, upon your command, 

To prove to you that I am not a fantasy.” 

Ahmed’s bold demeanour was gone the moment he’d seen her, 

All he could do was stare. 

He dug around his head for a word or two instead,  

And finally said with much care: 

“I have never sen before a fair lady as enchanting as the, 

So please excuse me if I do fall upon my knes, 

A lady like you can’t be from around her, 

I refuse to believe so, your home can’t be near.” 

The woman fixed her gaze on Ahmed’s blushing face, 

And she fell into a lovely peal of laughter. 

Her eyes were full of love, admiration from above, 

It grew louder with the helpless look he flashed her. 

“I am Dhon Kamana of Kaashidhoo, and you may call me as you please, 

I am from this land, I am part of your clan, and I don’t think it’s very hard to believe. 

I have heard of you before, the carpenter who wants to be more, 

Ahmed is your name; a star in fortune and fame. 

But it sems to me that you don’t have the same interest for us. 

I suppose paying attention to your neighbours is to much of a fuss.” 

Ahmed looked down, his face set in a frown, 

As he thought about his unnecessary hostility. 

“I’m sorry, my love, you must think me cruel, 

But forgive me, because that’s not he case. 

I’ve not seen you before, you’re certainly hard to ignore, 

I’m sure I’d have remember your face.” 

 She smiled that beautiful smile, and Ahmed’s heart ran a mile, 

And he struggled to catch his breath. 

He didn’t know what possessed him, her grace did more than just impress him, 

And his thoughts, he did address. 

“Marry me, My Love, I’ll give you everything above 

The pits of hell, and everything below the heavens. 

I will rock you in my arms, keep you safe from all harm, 

But please, don’t laugh at my confessions. 

You can deny me, if you wish, but please make it quick, 

My heart beats only for you, and I’d hate to see it shattered. 

Al I want is to see you smile, for it is far from hostile, 

And to me, your happiness is all that matters.” 

Kamana glanced his way, and with the wind she swayed, 

She looked at him with a soft and true smile. 

She considered him a while, then she began with a sigh, 

A list of things he’d have to do to keep her as his bride.

 

“A marriage to me comes with a price indeed, and if you agree, you won’t have to ask twice, 

I’ll agree to spend my life with you if you agree with me: 

You must let me wear what I please, and don’t come in to the bathroom when I’m in need, 

And remember to avoid the kitchen when I cook. 

Moreover, you must refrain from asking questions of where I gain 

The day’s meat, the fish that we will have to eat. 

If these conditions you can fulfil, I may consider to share my will

And be your loyal wife, one no ther can beat.” 

The conditions she’d set were easy, he was silly to have felt queasy, 

And he looked at her with a smirk and a nod.  

He agreed with ease, then he dropped down to his knees, 

With a ‘yes’, their journey had begun. 

Twelve years passed by, Kamana hadn’t changed in his eyes, 

After three births, she remained timelessly beautiful. 

Their home was filled with love, peals of laughter from three young cubs, 

The place was a hearth, with a wife so perfectly dutiful. 

Their happy life was disrupted by a dear friend of Ahmed, 

When they’d met, he looked at Kamana as though she were made of sin. 

Once she had left, he looked at his friend with fret 

And said, “My friend, you have married a Jinn.” 

Ahmed sat speechless, he could not be serious, 

That night he finally decided, 

To spy on his wife, the love of his life, 

And he was in horror with what he’d been provided. 

She sat by the well, and she looked like she was from hell, 

With sharp claws, and wild hair and red; a distraction. 

In horror he looked, a fish she had caught hooked 

On her claws, as she smiled in satisfaction. 

He followed her into the kitchen as she got busy making 

The fish, as smoke rose, smelling as though it came straight from a briar. 

But as he kept on looking, he found that she was cooking 

With her feet thrust into the red, hot fire. 

Disturbed, he fled, and that night, in bed, 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d seen. 

Kamana knew straight away, what he’d seen that day, 

And she sat near him, with enough space in between. 

“Ahmed, I know hat you’ve witnessed today, 

But tell me, have I ever laid a hand against your way? 

Have I ever given you anything other than joy? 

Have I ever played around with you as though you were my toy? 

I saw you speak to your friend, and I knew this would be the end. 

I saw you take the piece of wood that would banish me from your neighbourhood. 

I must leave, although it pains me so, 

You have left me no choice, and now I must go. 

But I hope you know that you have hurt me deeply. 

My love was true, it was never meant to pain thee. 

Yes, I am a Jinn, that much is true, 

But know that I never meant to hurt you.” 

She reached for her children, the second one she’d pried, 

Away from her father, and as fast as she could, 

Ran to the beach, to bid farewell for good. 

She left the oldest son in Ahmed’s care, 

She reached for her daughter, and stroked her hair. 

She looked at the youngest, their sweetest son, 

And cut him in half, and gave Ahmed one. 

 Ahmed fell to his knees, and his oldest son screamed, 

At his younger brother’s human half, now long dead, 

Ahmed shook as he cradled his half-son’s head. 

Kamana looked Ahmed in the eye one last time. 

She kissed her eldest son’s head, and tried for a smile. 

And then she walked away, lost in fog within a mile. 

That was the last he’d ever seen from his dear wife, 

The Fair Lady of the Palace of Jinn. 

Insane with guilt, he spent the rest of his life, 

Fighting his younger self from within. 

A little poem to end 2025

-Cleverquacks

I learned a lot this year.

This year, I learned that there's more to life than numbers inked in red.

This year, I learned that comparison really is the thief of joy.

This year, I learned that embracing what you cannot overpower is how you overcome it.

And through wet, salty pillows and bloodstained, bandaged fingers, I've learned that it's okay to need a break sometimes. 

It's okay if you don't keep up your facade of perfection all the time

Because some people will love you just for being.

I've learned that you can't truly love someone without really knowing them,

That there is a thin border between reality and imagination,

And that you must be careful not to overstep that border.

I've learned that each coin really does have two sides,

And I've realized the impact of a little bit of kindness, and a little bit of love.

I've learned that the best friendships stand on honest communication,

And most importantly, I've learned that sometimes, people change for the better.

You just have to try.

Empty book

 She is like an empty book. She is filled with fresh, blank pages that are yet to be written in. Will she be covered in snatches of poetry, or streaks of colours in every shade? Because she is empty, people are hesitant to fill her pages with their stories. Write. She is like a capped pen, waiting to be opened. Like freshly spilled ink on the floor, like the steady 'clack' of a typewriter. "You're like an old paintbrush, worn but comfortable," she's told. Flowing steadily, like a quill, her ink drips onto the white sheet if paper, it's pages yellowing at the corners. She is like an empty book—but she will fill herself with stories before her pages yellow and corrode.

I think something is wrong with me

-Cleverquacks

I think something is wrong with me, 

For wishing to be ill;

Something more than a dull throb in my bones.

A reason to lie still in the warm embrace of my blankets,

As if sleep may answer what I cannot.

I think something is wrong with me,

For craving a shakespearean sorrow,

Something tragic and grand.

Something to name this soft, quiet ache that creeps around,

Making even the softest sounds seem too loud.

I think something is wrong with me,

For wishing for something else entirely;

A wound, a shadow on a scan—

Anything to prove that I am not just

Lonely and sad.

But in the end,

Maybe something is wrong with me,

For needing something

To be wrong at all.

Numbers inked in red

-Cleverquacks

When I got my exam results, they weren't as good as I wanted them to be,

But I will not beat myself up about it.

I'll simply try harder next time.

Because although I didn't do my best, I did better.

And I believe that there's more to life than numbers inked in red on a page.

I want to live a quiet, simple life.

Where pleasure is so easily found in something as simple as cooking pasta that finally tastes just right,

And the joy of having a sweet cup of cold tea,

And the familiarity of a pen in between your fingers,

And the relief when the words pour out of your soul before you even try.

I want to be all there is to be,

And to see all there is to see,

And to read all there is to read.

I want to live life to the fullest, because life is ephemeral, and you only live it once.

Every thought must count.

Every stroke of this pen must count.

Every drop of this ink must count.

Every key I press must count.

Everything I create must count,

And I must make it beautiful.

What is one without the other?

What is a man without his thoughts,

And what are thoughts if not inked?

What is poetry, if it sits on a page and looks so perfect, but doesn't make you feel anything?

What is poetry, if it doesn't bleed from the hand that writes it, and doesn't drip from our tongues like the sweet, raw honey we scarcely find?

I want to grow old, in a garden full of tea leaves and mango trees and rows and rows of orchids,

To sit on a swing and feel everything around me so deeply.

I'd wake up in the wee hours of morning, and go for a walk,

And I'd come back holding a rope tied to the rising sun.

I'd make a lovely cup of tea, cold and sweet, and drink it with someone I love,

And I'd realize that there are more important things in life than the sheet of paper with numbers inked in red I had thrown away decades ago.