A trickle of life within the lifeless

Memory means everything to me. 

Memory has something that I hold dear. Spending moments, hours just gazing at the emptiness, believeing that the world infact is a beautiful place and my life is exactly how I wished it would be,well that’s a feeling that surpasses every other feeling. 

It gives me peace. Misplaced I know. Then again, most things in the world are misplaced. And completing the puzzle is what makes life interesting!

The monochromatic Nokia

Shone with vestige thoughts

Words from the past

A letter that was us.
The old tattoo in my neck

Reliving the joy

In the pain.

A scar that was us.
The cafes, the lattes

That stood witness 

To the imprints we left.

A memory that was us.
The fading photo in my wallet

The smile I so miss

The times I yearn for.

A life that was us.
Now, hollow hearts that ache

And shallow lives that fake

As I sit with this poem

Of you and I.
A love that was us.
The above is a product of some empty thoughts that creeped into my mind while in idleness. 

Mon Amour

You gave me the most wonderful gift I can ever ask for. You gave me the confidence, to write and to write my heart out. Hence here I’m, writing my heart out for all my heart ever has, is you.

​The writer who dies

At the mention of your name,

Crumbling, like a sand castle

Washed away, marooned forever.

The writer who lives

In the shadows of your memories,

Fondness like the fire

Burning bright, from within.

The writer who writes

With the black of the night,

Constellations of you, and me,

In my fantasy skies.

For I’m the writer who bleeds

For bleed is all I can do

When I’m in love

With you.

The above piece of work is something way too close to my heart, so close that if I ever plagiarise in this, it means I dont even have a heart!

Unbroken-Like a Green Leaf from a Dead Twig

​The beautiful words of Morgan Freeman in the movie ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ “Every man has his breaking point’echos through my heart.

Life’s a challenge. Not your job, not your programme, not even relationships or love can match life in it. Life gives you a million reason to give up and walk away each day. But what is that one reason that drives you, that one little inspiration that forces to hold on no matter the shit you go through in life? 

Tell me, why wont you give in yet?

I have my reason, hope you have yours’.

The rosiness left her cheeks

Her eyes a looming thunderstorm

And her scarred heart bled

For her love,

The light in her skies

Dying like the crimson sunset.

‘I shall live’

Said the staunch mind.

‘I shall love’

Said the undying spirit.

And it began

Once again

The process called life.

A wounded heart

A haunted mind

And a killing pain

As she trudged on

Unfazed by the hurtin’

Unwilling to let go 

‘Life is too precious’

Said the feeble yet determined heart.
The above has not been copied from anywhere else because, quite frankly, you cant do that here!

Living in a Chimera (Finally the 50th!!)

Knowing me like I do, I never expected to last this long! 3 years and 50 posts ago I started writing with absolutely no dream or aspirations. 50 posts later, I still got no dream or aspirations. But what I got is this genuine love or in my case, lust for writing which has greatly developed over the years. And I’m glad to be bound by this love. I lived through 3 years and over a 100 posts of happy, sad, depressed and angry moments that have made me better than I ever wanted to be.

I wish to offer my thanks to the Gods of writing and words and I pray that I always have the mind and heart to write my way through any ordeal.

 

I wish to dedicate this post to the one person who has made it all possible, the same person who is the one behind this post.

 

When my life grows numb

And my heart grows cold.

When my eyes grow lifeless

And my soul, breathless.

The skies shall split asunder

The trembling earth beneath,

Giving way to surreal realities

And we shall descend from the stars

Waltzing onto the earth

Under the gleaming moonlight

Covered in the stardust

Of love and this heartbreak

Called love.

A love that shall live

In my flawed imagination

For an eternity.

 

Like always, this is a work of the blog owner and no part of it has been copied from anywhere.

 

 

 

A Utopia called Writing

The last time I came anywhere close to writing was in October, over a month and a half ago. I needed this break because I was concerned. I was concerned that writing kept me away from people. Because when I write, I sit alone with a pen and a paper and when I am not writing, I sit alone with my thoughts. I became so engrossed with thoughts that I started skipping my food and isolating myself to have that much needed peace.

So here I’m. I’m coming back home!

There was this great American (Yes, he is no more!) by the name Ernest Hemingway who once said, ‘There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is to sit at a typewriter and bleed’.

Frozen  thoughts haunting,

And unsaid words taunting,

As I clenched my pen,

To bleed.

 

The reality vanishing,

And my senses banishing,

As I clenched my pen,

To bleed.

 

The soul growing warm,

And my mind going numb,

As I clenched my pen,

To bleed.

 

The world becomes a shadow,

And its people, hollow,

As I clenched my pen,

To bleed.

 

Happiness rushing in,

And the tears gushing out,

As I clenched my pen,

To bleed.

 

To bleed my literal heart out.

The above is an attempt by the author to try and capture the emotions every writer experiences when sits down to write. No part of it has been reproduced from anywhere. 

‘Memories maketh a man’

Everyone has a past, some broken beyond repair and some beautiful like a blooming lotus. Situation doesn’t make a man who he is. Experience doesn’t make a man who he is. It’s the memory of it all that makes him who he is.

Here’s a gentle peek into my memories, my mid night thoughts and mid day dreams, my life from how I see it each day.

So what am I now? A confused soul? A delusional idiot?

Memories burden

Like a paper boat

On a still pond

The slightest touch

Causing the scariest ripple

And my heart goes numb.

 

Memories sweeten

Like a heavenly oasis

In a scorching desert

Thoughts of you

Making a masterpiece

Out of my lifeless poems.

 

Memories are untold dreams

Memories are imagined situations

Memories are learnt lessons

Memories are boundless happiness

Memories are bottomless sorrows

 

Memories are living souls

Dwelling in lifeless wraiths.

The above is a work of fiction pretty much close to what the author experiences everyday in his life. No part of it has been reproduced from anywhere.

Reminiscence

I believe the best person to write about love is a person who has never been loved. Because once you experience it, you become demystified and lose the alluring element in it. So, here goes nothing!

Stood like a statue,

Eyes deep and lifeless,

As she broke up,

Shattering him within.

 

Memories rushing in,

Like darkness at sunset.

 

The days they loved,

The days they hated,

The time of his life,

He can never get back.

 

Her fingers in his,

His heart in hers,

Felt like true love,

All along.

 

Rolling on,

Like a lifeless documentary,

Of a life altering affair.

chilling, numbing him within.

 

Every moment lucid,

Like a grain of sand,

Within an oyster,

Destined to prick forever.

 

Coming to a painful stop,

At the dawn of his now broken dreams.

 

When he stood like a statue,

Eyes deep and life filled,

As she said ‘yes’,

Revivifying him from within.

 

Hope you liked it.

The above is a work of the author and no part of it has been copied from anywhere.