Designer Deliverance - A Poem

May 1, 2018

Today’s blog-post is a tad bit different. Instead of the usual run-of-the-mill fashion blog, speaking of trends, lifestyle and the works, The Curly Mode is going to do and be more. A lottle of everything. Instagram of late has become slightly restricting. Now we worry about the algorithm rather than making wonderful, soulful content. However, the blogs have remained the same. This is one platform where I can create pages and pages of content that can resonate with my audience. Hence, some changes needed to be made.

So, a couple of weeks ago I took a poll on my Instagram about what you would you like to see on TCM and many of you responded to poetry. Here we are. With poetry being so underrated these days, here I am doing my bit for its revival.

In case you are wondering what deliverance means, I googled it for you. It is ‘the action of being rescued or set free’.

Also, if you came here for fashion then I've included a photo-series disengaged from the poem, yet allied with it.
-

 

She dreamt of fields, the odor of the seas,

Hoping the desk would make way,

For the eyes were getting teary, the mind dreary,

As she dreamt of home, the hugs felt too far away.

 

Friends she lost,

Family she didn’t mind to lose,

The only Jimmy's she’d approve of on the bed

Were Choos.

 

An expert at giving the elevator eyes,

At every outfit the other girls adorn,

Riding the elevator to an empty apartment,

The same eyes seem, alone.

 

Stumbles in, Bumps into the side table,

Across the room, sinks into the recliner

Carelessly, drops the bag to the floor,

Picks it up promptly and mumbles “it’s designer”.

 

The fields have been calling my name

And I intend to run, she said.

Booked two tickets to Neverland,

Replacing a partner with her Fendi luggage instead.

 

Off the plane navigating a crowd

that travels Coach rather than wear it.

She laid eyes on the crystal waters,

Knew the world was worth the quit.

 

There she went chasing and running,

Racing into the warm sands.

Just slow enough to take off the Cartier,

Before the water lapped up her hands.

 

As she lay in there in the ocean,

Soaking into its unfathomable arms.

She realized that more than deliverance

Drowning set off the alarms.

 

Choking and praying to get one last look

At Chanel would make death diviner.

A lifeboat swiveled, flung a buoy to hold on,

She asked, “but is this designer?”

 

-

 

Hope you enjoyed that little blurb of poetry that was being pushed behind folders and folders of just pretty pictures. If you liked it then leave a positive comment and there shall be more. If not, then tell me what else you’d like to read. Love hearing your thoughts.

 

Thank you for reading.

 

Much love,

Sneha

 

 

 

*ALL OPINIONS EXPRESSED HERE ARE THE BLOGGER’S OWN. UNAUTHORIZED USE OF ANY PICTURES OR CONTENT WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR OF THIS SITE, IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED.*


 

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THE CURLY MODE

Bangalore, India

*ALL OPINIONS EXPRESSED HERE ARE THE BLOGGER’S OWN. UNAUTHORIZED USE OF ANY PICTURES OR CONTENT WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR OF THIS SITE, IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED.* 

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