My Heart

~Manu Mueller

“Julio is sweet
Julio is smart
Julio is a sweetheart”
Julio is Julia’s love
Julio and Julia both are Portuguese
Former for namesake, latter at heart

Julio’s America born
Writer he is but no ordinary
Languages French, Portuguese, German, Spanish
All flow through his soul
Virtuoso is the word they use to describe his artistry
And it was for one of his poems that he won Julia’s heart

Poem was 'Meu Coração'
Recited it was in Lisbon, Portugal
Near a beautiful eye catching lagoon
On a sunny busy day; Julia vividly remembered

Today was the day they stole each others' hearts
That is what led to this decision
Of trying a poem for her beloved
But the catch was she was trying to write in English
Her English was even worse than their old Spanish janitor

But she was not one to shy off from challenges
So she tried one more time-
“Julio is sweet
Julio is smart
Julio is a sweetheart
Julio makes me smile
Julio makes me laugh
Julio makes me blush
Julio makes me warm
Julio is my love
Julio is my heart
Julio is my heart”
The poem to her seemed terribly plain but effective
And no matter how hard she tried
It felt as if the words were stapled in her brain

And then she jumped like a kangaroo As the doorbell rang
Put on her slippers and hurried towards the door
Opened it and leaned forward to kiss him gently
She always knew when Julio was at the door

He was her Julio, her desire, her dream
Smiling at her, his eyes home to the bluest sea
They kissed again and this time more slowly
Letting the magic settle in the air more properly

Julia went to the kitchen and brewed some coffee
While Julio went to shower and as he removed his shirt
He saw a paper on the bed, bent he to hold it in his hand
And the lines on his face smoothened and turned into a nostalgic smile

Julia was busy making espresso Julio’s favorite
When Julio entered , the somehow, roulette shaped kitchen
With a paper in his hand on which stretched Julia’s curvy handwriting
“Oh! Wrote that poem for you I titled it ‘My Heart’
Not very flamboyant, simple like you
Hope you’d appreciate my hard work”
Said she, as if the words were sewn in her heart
Then all of a sudden both erupted into laughter
Laughter filled with a sweet secret each beheld
Lucky enough I was to have known their little secret
Years ago, similar words had crusaded Julia's heart
Near a beautiful eye catching lagoon;
On a sunny busy day in Lisbon, Portugal.

Pagan

~ Manu Mueller

The cathedral bells rang as Sarah’s heart raced like a bullet
Today was when Joe would arrive; waiting she was for his embrace
Whilst, Richard sat solemnly then stood and struggled
Trying to grapple the names of the Apostles

There Sylvia, as Richard would call her: grandma
Brewed her special tea; the fragrance brought Richard towards her
He recited the names of the Apostles-“Saint Peter, Saint John, and Saint um….”
The last name tried he hard to pull
“He is invoked in helpless situations” his grandma prompted
Without reluctance he exclaimed-“Saint Jude!”

Sarah the mother entered and Richard flung into her arms
Without much ado Joe the father jived into the hall
All of them hugged and kissed like mad, and Sylvia the grandmother sent a little prayer to the Lord
She does that a lot, was brought up in a pretentious Christian family

The Bishop preached the Gospel; all rose for the Morning Prayer to be sung
Seeing him standing there singing in the choir made her heart burst with joy
Her little Richard singing the prayer; when all was done Richard walked hand in hand with his grandmother
And every night she recited him a verse of the holy Bible

Joe’s love for Sarah was taciturn
Sarah’s, more strident in approach
And whenever mother talked Richard felt
That a semblance tarnished his father’s soul

Five years after, the reverberations
of the Psalms and the Eulogies made his ears hurt
The sounds almost eerie made his chest burn
Tears incessantly slipped damping his black suit
His mother was an orthodox Jewish, the lapel
of his coat cut right over the heart manifested the harrowing absence
Making him realize the real reason behind his father’s reticence

In the spring of ’58 his father left
With a woman Richard would have never suspected
But that was not all spring had to offer
Richard fell in love with the girl of his dreams
She reminded him of his mother when she smiled
But glamour supposedly overpowered this sweet joy

And one wintry night Richard fled from his house
Leaving his grandmother to cry
She knows not where he is
For he never returned to his only lover alive

Roaming he is in the filthy streets of Nogales, Sonora
The a Capella that the Armenian Church nearby played wracked his nerves
The sermons that he’d heard over the years long back lost their effervescence
As the faiths Judaism, Christianity, Islam all seemed a cruel joke
Follower of Satan some call him when he walks down the road

Had it not been for the heinous conspiracies of the world
Poor Richard would have still loved the divinity
But sick he was of the demons of the world’s and his own
His ingenuity, innocence, spontaneity were taken away by the supreme
His heart no more hurts as madman he hath become

But somewhere in the abyss formed in his heart
He wants to believe the priests for once and for all
But the ineptness of the cause restraints him each time
Once was a devotee now a Pagan he’s forced to be for life

Beyond my reach

I stood there gazing at the sea,

Disconnected from the rest of the world,

Thinking where life had brought me-

Asking myself-Do I really belong here?

The feeling of belongingness, humph

Seems a foreign affair,

Now this realization has taken refuge deep inside me,

Making me feel hollow and empty;

The tiny waves tickle my feet,

As I stare hard at the sea-

Searching for answers to questions

That no one else would readily give me.

Whom should I complain?

And how many times would I?

As hardships have ailed me big time,

Of this predicament I have nothing much to say,

Young faces bubbling with joy,

Laughing and making sand castles;

A stronger wave comes and the castle is shattered,

But the wave doesn't stop the kids from making another,

Their energy makes me smile a little, a little

A newly-wed couple French kissing, French kissing

They made me feel jealous

Their happiness made me feel jealous.

Always dreamt of a beautiful life

But never did I get one,

Always tried to give in my best

But never did I get the best gift,

Tired I am of trying to pretend,

I cannot fake happiness

Happiness is something I always wanted to achieve,

But my efforts have always failed,

Leaving me with sadness,

The kind of sadness

That would last forever.  

Love....never was asked

He did not know happiness without her

He could only be happy with her

He felt lost and lonely when she wasn’t around

He couldn’t help but smile when she was around

He loved the sound of her laugh

He loved the birth mark on her neck

He loved the way she cried softly during movies in the theatre hall

He loved the sparkle that never left her eyeballs

While she,

She knew happiness even without him

She could be happy without him

She felt free and elated when he wasn’t around

A tinge of insecurity outlined her smile when he was around

She liked his voice but loved hers

She liked his honey colored hair but felt hers were better

She liked his crooked smile but could have never loved it

She liked his eyes but loved the face that was reflected from them

She never said she loved him

She always said-“We’re friends”

But as time passed

She did not act very much like one

He assumed she had fallen for him

But she hadn’t

He fell in love with her

But she didn’t

From the moment he saw her

He thought that she was the one

And it was until later

When he realized that she wasn’t

She kept saying-“We’re friends”

And he did not understand why?

As they did nothing of the sort as friends did

When he asked him she said frowning

“I do not want to be more than friends”

The answer to him seemed pretty dry

She broke up and said it was meant to be

He shouted, cried and hit an unknown street

There were many fish in the pond he thought

But none matched her elegance

She was special, he thought,

She was special, maybe, because he loved her

She adored him

She was fond of him

But with him she was just not sure

Of what she was sure with John

When he heard this he was shocked

She had never asked him to love

But he did anyways

He gave her all that he had

Even when she hadn’t asked

Now he is loathing in a corner

And she, living her life with another

I wonder whose fault is that.

#My Experience

Dear friend, 

I recently observed a pattern in the blogs of my fellow blog mates. They usually write about their experiences in life. So I thought even i'll write about my experiences. One such event that i remember most clearly is reading the novel "The Perks of being a Wallflower". i don't know if anyone of you has read that novel but i don't care much about it. I have read this novel a hundred times ( hyperbole, learned in my English class) and it just seems to get better and better each time. Shocking right? Whenever i read this novel i can't help but feel infinite. The novel is written in a very simple language. That one thing that draws me into this novel is the honesty of the protagonist. He is one of the wisest characters i have ever encountered in the history of my novel reading career. The world from his eyes seems so beautiful. Sometimes i see a glimpse of me in Charlie(protagonist).  There comes a time in our lives when we all use thought not to participate in life. But in Charlie's case it is a way of life. As the novel progresses he tries to participate that is when he meets three people who truly change his life. He makes best friends for life. He becomes more social and tries to live his life like every other teenager. The book is about the challenges of being a teenager from the eyes of one. This book is a brilliant, outstanding, mind-blowing account of a teenager who tries to fit in. I won't tell you all about the book, for sure. I would suggest that you read the book for yourself, it'll be an awesome experience i can vouch for that.

Love always, 
Manu