Dreamy Poet

Poetry by Kavya Janani. U
Some Poems from My Poetry Collection ‘La Douleur Exquise’

Some Poems from My Poetry Collection ‘La Douleur Exquise’

Today marks the 2nd anniversary of my poetry collection La Douleur ExquiseIt’s a collection of poems on unexpressed and unrequited love, as seen through the eyes of a woman. Since its release, it has been receiving good reviews from all over. Though poetry is not everyone’s cup of tea, many have said that they could relate to some of the poems as they dealt with unrequited love.

To celebrate this anniversary, I’m sharing some of the poems from the book which many readers liked.

I Like You (from the Hoping section)

I like you

like the overcast sky that promises a rainy evening.
like the cosy white beds in hotel rooms.
like newly discovered music that I am addicted to for a few weeks.
like my baby’s soy-milk powder that I secretly devour.

like the rose wreath with a heavenly fragrance.
like the ethnic gown that I have preserved for my best night.
like the aroma of fresh cheese.
like fluffy Panda dolls that smell of gentleness.
like my aunt’s extra spoon of sugar in my cappuccino.

like honey on pancakes.
like the pages of my journal that contain my well-guarded secrets.
like the few drops of lavender oil on my pillow.
like scented candles in a warm room.
like library books with creased and blotted pages.

like milk baths.
like the chill that prevails on full-moon nights.
like this unexpected poetry that popped in my mind.


Can I, Please? (from the Hurting section)

Can I unlove you just for tonight,
so I could drink the sky’s midnight-blue
and have the stars for dessert?
Can I unlove you just for this moment,
so I could swallow the moon
and plant it between my ribs?
Can I unlove you just for today,
so I could catch the sun and rub it over myself
for the much-needed warmth?
For when I love you, I forget what the celestial beings can do to me.
Instead, I dwell in this muck called unrequited love, unsolicited suffering.

So, darling, never be the addiction that I turn to,
when I am at my vulnerable best.
I am here trying to unlove you with every passing moment,
but you crack inside jokes, and there grows my longing for you.
I am here trying to shred every ounce of my unreturned feelings,
but you shake hands and there I sow the poor seed of love again.

Yet I would try to unlove you by doing little things – like
Stamping the begonias that you smelt a moment before.
Ignoring the platonic kindness that you throw at me.
Sharing such bland conversations that you begin to wonder
whether I am a woman with feelings and emotions.

And then I realize, you are like that one song
that I never tire of listening to.
I cannot exist without loving you.
Even trying to unlove you is impossible.


Ever Since You Left (from the Hurting section)

Ever since you left,
I’ve been wearing the ocean all day,
Wishing that your yearning for
seas, shells, and sandcastles
would draw you towards me.

Ever since you left,
I’ve been wearing the ocean all day,
Dreaming that I’d feel your footprints
as you walk on the shore,
observing the nesting turtles.

Ever since you left,
I’ve been wearing the ocean all day,
Craving the touch of your
delicate fingers on all the
coral reefs that I embrace.

Ever since you left,
I’ve been wearing the ocean all day,
Saving all the oysters for you,
so you would seek some pearls
and find my love instead.


The Boy Who Wants to Leave (from the Healing section)

The boy who wants to leave
stands beside me.
I watch him breathe, his chest heaving.
And I wonder whether he would
spare a heartbeat for me.
I made a promise to myself
That I’d confess to him when I turn sixty.

But now, I see him wearing unbridled joy
on his sleeves, because he wants to leave.
There is a song of ecstasy in his eyes.
I make a promise to myself
that I’d never confess to him.
I’d swallow the confession
And lodge it as a lump in my throat.

It is so ironic that the boy
who wants to leave
is the boy I love so immensely.
What ifs would stay as what ifs.
Deep down, I know that my confession
Wouldn’t make any difference.
Ah, it wouldn’t make him stay!

The boy who wants to leave
stands beside me.
And, suddenly, I remember
that I am trying to love myself.
So that I could heal
And watch him leave.
I’d rather let his eyes
carry the song of ecstasy, forever.


Love Without A Lover (from the Healing section)

Today, some almond leaves
brushed my cheek,
And I remembered
that one moment,
When the same leaves
brushed your cheek
Two thirty one days ago.
That day, I crushed a part
of one of the leaves,
took it home,
And pressed it onto the
middle page of my journal.
The same journal
from which emanates
The aroma of unrequited love.
I still smell the dried leaf,
Inhaling the saudade in it.
A remedial measure
for my catastrophic heart.

The footstool beside my chair
Hides a lot of stories
that have somersaulted
straight from my heart.
Of tales that you’d
never even smell in the air.
Of days when you sat
So close to me,
that you could see
the secret love
I harboured for you,
Through the gooseflesh
on my skin.
Of times when you hummed
A tune that still reverberates
through the walls of my lungs.
On days when I don’t see
The footstool beside me,
I seek it out
And place it next to me,
like a daily ritual.

I trace my fingers
on all your leftover
Scribbles and signatures,
Trying to find some of the
dead skin particles that had
fallen from your beige palms.
Almond leaves, the footstool
And your handwriting,
They sing a lullaby to me
On moonless nights.
Your absence drowns me
in the pain that sews itself
to the base of my heart.
But it invokes in me
a love hitherto unknown.
I know that this kind of love
Doesn’t have a place
in this blindfolded world.
For this is a love that
thrives and grows
In the lap of absence.
The greatest love is
love without a lover.


All rights reserved ©Kavya Janani. U


Did you enjoy reading these poems? You can buy the paperback as well as the Kindle version of the poetry collection here: La Douleur Exquise by Kavya Janani. U

Leave comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked with *.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Dreamy Poet