Gayatri Bollapragada

Gayatri Bollapragada Poems

Every morning over a cup of hot coffee
She begins her journey with me
As I take a warm shower she prods me
Into the unknown corners of the galaxy.
...

I am from hot and humid weather and the salty scent of the sea.
I am from strong "filter" coffee and the muddy texture of ground jaggery.

I am from nose rings, toe rings, and stone-studded hip jewels.
...

The Best Poem Of Gayatri Bollapragada

A Mystery Lady

Every morning over a cup of hot coffee
She begins her journey with me
As I take a warm shower she prods me
Into the unknown corners of the galaxy.

She uses the choicest words in the dictionary
To go over the events of the past for eternity
As I get dressed she ceases for a second
And she is gone for good, so I gleefully pretend.

With a bigger bang, she is back gushing
With stories of remote fantasy, remorse, and yearning
Occasionally she is in a cheerful mood
Only to remind me soon that life is crude.

She follows me faithfully everywhere I go
What life would be without her I do not know
On some very busy and chaotic days,
She suddenly disappears and gets off my case.

When she is away, life passes by like a jiffy
With chores and work and friends and family
After a few days and nights, I miss her so bad but I know not why
She jumps back into action and it's a cycle again that I cannot deny.

Is she my friend or my foe, I wonder?
Why do I even need her to help me ponder?
By giving her all the limelight, I worry
That I am chipping away important parts of my story.

I often think of nixing my friendship with her altogether
I hear wise men and women speak of ancient ways to discover
Those that may cure me of her ways, strange and sinister
But each time I try, my footsteps stall at some point or the other.

When I focus on my breath slow and steady
She briefly disappears from my reality
I feel peaceful and purposeful momentarily
But it's hard to ignore how she nags incessantly.

Does she need me more than I need her, you may pry?
I know not the answer now to clarify
But when I truly find out one day I might cry
And then It may not matter at all anymore to justify.

Who is she? The "The voice in my head".

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