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Showing posts from December, 2013

Memoirs

'Life is but a collection of memories, grouped effectively before death.' -  A silly child, who mocked and rejected the meaningless musings of a world that ebbed into enduring autumns and dark winters, came to sit beside me. With his hands ridden in mud, but without the roughness that life would grant it with, he asks me to cherish the purity of his words and the radiance of his smile. Replacing the child is a lad whose shine continue to whisper what the child shouted, He hid emotions somewhere inside his eyes which seemed to deepen into an oblivion, Where fragile thoughts were shattered by awkward words. With a pace that guides his motives, he wastes no time to point my senses onto his frank smiles and a relentless heart. A person who looks more like me could be seen, experience (rather torments) of living has smothered his eyes and haunted his mind. His hands seem weary, legs tired and through the long walk, his head st

Hamartia

Hamartia - the flaw in character which leads to the downfall of the protagonist in a tragedy When my mind thrust all its vigor Into the nerves of my framework, I crunched with envy as the villain Of the unfinished novel in my attic Slowly brought himself on the threshold And barked violently, I noticed how he Looked upon with lust at the glorious Image of her. And how as a pigeon Watches a crumb of bread, she kept Her gaze firmly fixed on his silhouette. He never held her, he never promised A life in the folds of my imagination, He was thoughtful with each word, Cunning with his vivid expressionism, and  Roguish at every act of love. With An overwhelming force of pain and wrath I first gifted her the pangs of my torture. She wept the whole day, while I took My pen and disfigured the villain's face. Soon, she took her life away from mine, The promise of never separating from my Anxiousness was shattered in front Of my realm, but to

An Act of Love

Courtesy : The Mag 197 By a sweep of unison, They waited for her to Take her first bite into The offering made in Part delight and mostly Love. After her humbled beaks Quickly closed on each Other, a sound, not Of the crunch, but of Waves of shared cries Were heard striking The bare and rocky Shores. Amidst those cries they Danced wildly, encircling The divine rendezvous As if casting a mystic Splendor which transcended Slowly. All the while her eyes Grew moist with affection And the hand that fed her Swayed with the wind, It were guided carefully in Between. And when they bid the hand A final farewell, no Words were shared, but it Moved steadily towards Those eyes and removed A drop of tear. Cause after all It was the only thing they Cherished.

Déjà vu

'Ocean of Dreams' Courtesy : abstract.desktopnexus.com Wave after wave of constant ordeal, And it took her a dream To let herself dissolve Into the narrow corners Of her surreal field, Designed thoughts And immersed strife. There she met the comfort Of sharing griefs, Of planting love And hanging on shoulders When the walk became Tedious and long. She met a comrade, A loving creator of her destiny, Who danced to her appraisal, And granted all her minimal wishes. She felt life. She paced to find places Where her memories could be planted. When her swivels cease The only life Worthy enough to be thought about Is the life in her dreams. The dreams capsized one morn, She woke up with her mind torn, Her laughs echoed from within, But her lips never curled with joy, In the world, sans the spread Of her wishes, she struggled. The darkness was blinding, The silence was deafening And the moments were sta

Madiba - A Tribute

“I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can only rest for a moment, for with freedom come responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not ended.”  - Nelson Mandela In life, when I faced odds, the image of this man always helped to recover my hope. Having spent most of his lifetime in jail, he never came out with vengeance. Rather he had a saga of forgiveness to be prophesied and a life filled with sacrifices to give for a struggling world. The skies turned mild gray, My mind remained rustled amidst, Hopelessly I gazed at the setting Sun, A million prostrations were paid, As he slowly disappeared into the sea. Just

Revolution is Home Made

"You can cut all the flowers, but you cannot keep spring from coming" - Pablo Neruda  - Tonight, my mind shall not let the torridness Of sleep torment my senses. Keeping together My thoughts become violently difficult, words Like a gust of formidable vengeance pour all Over my perpetual lethargy which until today Shackled my intellect with visions of peace. Tonight, my legs shall not give away to exhaustion, For it shall march, left leg after the right, into  The indomitable resting place of my contained Rage. The nails of the coffin which with it Was buried, under layers of contrived emotions, Shall be pulled back with my bleeding teeth, and Along with the taste of blood that shall drip, I shall know the taste of its colors too. Tonight, my heart shall not sink into its Calm tedium, but seek the exasperated Sentiment with which the revolution, that was Planted somewhere inside my thoughts sprouted Into a self-sustaining spring