A writer's love!

    By the way, just hold your thought on the fact quoted here.

"If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die."

This can only be understood by those who are already in love with words and the creators of those meaningful imaginative castles.

The sense to enter a writer's cavern of thoughts, crave lustfully for the words that flows incessantly caused by the spark of his mind onto a piece of paper. A writer builds a world with a pen or a pencil through the musings of his inner self.

A writer's love is not about materialism and lust, but it will of-course be  unconditional and rewarding. A lifetime reward and a ticket to the world of many unknown characters, unseen places, thought provoking musings, colorless beauty etc.

A writer's heart beats with the vibrations of what he/she wants to convey. Though the world tags them with worthless labels, they continue to bleed with the brilliant words as they do. 

Monsoon Diaries-II #Poem

In nature's delight,

I stood, lit in wonder.

With a swollen heart and

A disguised veneer.

While driblets of  water,

Falls from my rooftops

        And dissolves with the           Flooded land; 

My mind reeks of the putrid soul I bear!

    My hands do tremble,

        And my eyes do see.

While it rains in rhythm;

Non rhythmic is my

Heart of obscure sorrows.

Monsoon Diaries-I # Poem

       

      Raindrops skittering down on my                                                    windowpanes,

 Alluring me;

 Though absorbed beyond  thought.

Immense emotions swarming in!

   Though my heart is stuck,

Onto the gloom of a                                         Monsoon’s eve.

The spectrum of being mean.

                                                            I have always wondered why people are mean and judgmental to each other so often; too self-centered in them on one hand and very inquisitive and sneaky to know what’s happening in other’s life.  When someone starts excavating your bio or your motives, it can be seen to a greater extent that much of the whole world obviously helps them to source things up and bring that person down. That whole spectrum in which they are bound up, is the oxygen that keeps them running while the ones who are to be hunted down asphyxiate out of the blue.

Years move after and I try to learn that life is full of drama and in the stage of life, all carry out their part with perfection. Without even missing a dialogue, betrayal and accusation twines the legs of the innocent one.

I have obviously been getting crucial parts to play but without preset dialogues. Most often it’s spontaneous and unrehearsed. But I know well that even when I am sincere enough with my words, people can twist and turn those to be interpreted in the way they want.

On a sober note..

Conundrums.

Into the nadirs, I plunge without pressure from myself but with the thought of convolution from the external world. My eyes seems to lose its vision and falls into a state of trance. Though my body floats like a feather, my head is twofold the burden of my body or sometimes beyond a proper measure. Neither do I hear any sounds nor can I lend my ears in my own volition to listen to it. Everything seems to have lost its vigor. 

What remains as a question is how long will I be a victim in this enigma?

Misery at my door!

Misery is at my door. It can see me standing near the glass window, betrayed by the lantern I carry.

It isn’t surreal. Misery is still at my door. It’s trying to break in my abode and dissolve in me.

My hand shivers. My lips go dry. My body shudders at the thought of misery trying to break in; to steal me away from myself.

It wants me badly. Badly enough to hold by my hair and drag me along the paths that it wishes to take me.

When can I put the misery to an end? Is it when misery leaves me after it’s desired use or when I am done with misery that I won’t be anything left anymore?

Misery decides!