A mess of thoughts, inked through a writer’s block

I have been trying to write. I swear I have tried most possible means. I have stayed up in the silence of the night, waiting for a muse to drift by into sleepy eyes. I have strayed into lonelier dirtpaths, recluse benches, shadowy trees, pitch dark corners, my bed, the floor, upon a table, under…

Tumbling thoughts on a rumbling train

Once again, the wheels screeched along the whistle and rumbles of the train. I waved through the tinted glass to my little sister, expecting her to begin sobbing any moment.  She didn't.  Maybe the tiny girl had really grown up. Maybe her heart is being replaced with heavier emotions bit by bit, and her head…

Being

poets lie, they fib in the verses give names to absence . and talk of grief and smiles  in neighboring  lines  . paint colourless pictures and turn  blindness to  such light  . yet ruffle old  comfort  and break  confines  . what might be or might there be  a reason to the being  of poetry . structured chaos…

Bitter aftertaste

Shimmering drops still  Clinging, dripping down  the window still  After the rain has ceased.  . Several streaks still lined  On skin from striken eyes traced down, after  the heart has cried it's last.  . Solitary, swivelling leaf Fluttering through the silence,  Grit hung in the wind, When a storm has come to calm.  . Sharp…

Blame it…

Once upon a time, there used to be a land. Full of unsolved mysteries and stories to understand. But crashing winds came, and dried fairy twigs to withered mess. Neither could they amuse, nor could they impress. And thus was destined the bountiful land, to barren soiless misery. Blame it on Destiny, on Circumstance or…

Conceited Existence

On shingle of sadness, over stones thrown in idle thought, cascading, rippling over a seaful of memories...   Over surfeited surfaces, smoothed of flaws, soothed from flaws...   I searched...   I searched for grafts fashioned from wordy pretense, for reasons to device new reasons for sinful conceited existence.   And wondered, are there any?

Down the stepwell of questions

So, today was pretty much insignificant. Insignificant, i.e.- something that doesn't hold importance. Right? But what's important and what's not? That is the question.    Shakespeare makes an appearance in my head, and says: "Human emotions and beauty is... " Hawking says: "God plays dice, whatever is important, isn't here, isn't this!" Rowling came, and…