Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso
"लिख दे ये फ़सानादेखे जो ज़मानातारों से आगे होख्वाबों का ठिकाना"
There's a different level of excitement, a pleasure in going beyond formulas, beyond the classical theory or scoring in tests, by going much deeper into the underlying principles that govern the reality or the unknown because in this process I feel like an explorer navigating through the various possibilities that could exist and also I approach it like a detective investigating the problem at hand and its finer details. And obviously the size of the problem never matters rather the intensity or depth of it makes me more curious.
"वे मौलातेरे ही दर पर ये पायल आके रुकी हैंये घायल आँखें झुकी हैं"
Slow it down
A g a i n
Not a wound can you see Even if I bleedNor shall I groan If I cry,I'll grab with all my might The verses of yesterday,Each brick that I placed One upon the other;Pick myself up And pledge - That even if clouds grey out my skiesI'll never forget the blues hidden inside, I'll fight for it Till the last drop of blueFades away forever~ D
In this ever changing world I don't wanna be a standstill. I don't know but, I still wanna reminisce. I am a prisoner of my past. I work, I do things, I love to try new stuff, I just can't leave. I am a tech lover, I am a foodie, I'll die without art. But I love to imagine. I also become nostalgic when I listen to oldies. Songs that played when I was a child, mom's favourites - "E sudhu gaaner din"/ "It's a day of songs" , "Ghum ghum chand jhikimiki tara" / "Sleepy moon, twinkling stars" and many more. I listen to them whenever I wanna move back to origin. It lifts my mood. And I don't need remix or newer voices. I am just fine with Hemanta, Sondhya, Nachiketa. I feel travelling fast towards mom even being miles away from home. I still wrap the blanket around myself and listen to Sunday Suspense. I can be rubbing my feet over the sandy shores of Alibaug and still compare the sky in Mumbai to that of Kolkata. Why home is still home! Why the redolence brings me back to square love (don't read one)! The cupidity of reviving the crumbs of time that went past might sound to be foolish. I never said that I have an IQ of 200. I used to come rushing out of school with the final bells ringing and I miss it. The paper windmills, balloons, rickshaws, school fights ... I miss them all. You'll be surprised to know that I even miss class tests and assignments. I miss the Games period. I miss the recess. I miss waking up early to dad's scolding. I miss everything so damn much. " Neer choto khoti nei, aakash toh boro" literally translates to "Tiny is nest, doesn't matter, vast are the skies" means a lot. I might not be rich, I might not be great, I might not be the ruler, I might not own the world but why do I need to? I am happy with all that I have. With this I didn't say, I won't be trying any more. But at any stage if someone sees me and says "You look really stressed out", I would answer them in a way that there's a smile hidden even in this stress. Life might start becoming achromatic once in a while but I hum a tune, dance like a child and start afresh. These days I look drowsy and sometimes I drawl. I gasp for breath with a bad dream. I hug my pillow tight, kiss it, ask from it to be with me even if my breath fools me and I cry eventually bed-wetting with tears, haha! Well, well even I know that this isn't a fairyland. I have to work for it. And nothing will come easy. Definitely. In a world of millions, it needs sheer genius to stand out from the rest. And forbearance. Some may call it "sacrifice" too just like gods with different names. Again, enjoying every moment and not tying every day to a damn statistical result helps a lot. Sometimes expectations hit a toll. We humans expect. Umm, tendency. I agree. "Ami poth bhola ek pothik esechi" - translates to "A vagrant rover, I have arrived". Nothing in nature is absolute. Relativity is the only absolute. If we could win over time, we would've reigned over nature. We never can. This is the only parameter beyond our control. Did you ever think like this? That Time is Godly? And you can still see it. Humans framed ways to see time. We get a glimpse of it. It passes away. It moves on. It doesn't remember. It doesn't store memories. It doesn't care for you or me. Now you might say, Time is a cobweb, honey. It trapped all of us. If you keep stretching it infinitely, it'll still be as dense as it was before. I'll soon be over. And I'll enjoy this very moment. Cause even I don't care. Sleep is my drink. What's yours? ~ D
Obvious. Yet provocative.
Often I wonder why things are happening the way they are happening! And then I think, "Only if I had the power to time travel, set other possibilities on track and watch them proceed, how'd life appear to be". Considering this to be the best as this is the only way I am going by or circumstances forced me to tread on this path, I close my eyes, take a deep breath and start moving ahead. Had it been any different, it would still be the only way. Decision making can only help you take a call before moving ahead. Whether that decision is the best or not, you definitely can't arrive at a conclusion. Yes, still we try to find the optimal point. We can do hit and trial, uncertainty is its sure gift. Knowing all this and asking umpteen number of Whys, Hows, Whens is human tendency. Experimentation has no dead end. Hope binds this species.
To me An end is just a concept Like infinity as the farthest limitBut the beginning shall set the markFor every little breath that rises Just like the origin, well defined! I can be dead But I can't die
I get chills when I listen to dead people Who are still alive amidst us,Just the light fades out And still it paints the darknessIn a million abstract colours
Humanity has grown more not for them who worked hard relentlessly but obviously because of them who always wanted to lead a more lazy life:)
With the change in various priorities, our tummy keeps on growing which literally means that the bulge arrives first and we just follow wherever we go.
~DOops, this happened after an explosion.Location: inside my brain.
I am writing after years maybe. Or maybe years passed away just like that. Oh shit, not years man. Just some moments, just some seconds, some minutes, hours, days. I never thought that I can write. But whenever I start writing I don't pull the chords. Words ooze out. I don't know what drives me. But this thought that what will I leave when I'll be gone. Presence is a hard word to feel in my opinion. Everything's so still after the end. Everything is so cold, frozen. You don't feel someone until you connect. Someone might say, "What about silence?". What about it? What about the period when I don't have words to express? I cry. I cry a lot. I cry as if there's no end. As if nothing ever started too. Yes, you can express without words. You can express everything. But you won't realise how much you spoke just like that. Silence speaks too. Even while writing this, a storm rushed inside me. As if I have to pour out everything. As if I will lose this very moment if I don't pen it down right now. But how much to write? When will it end? It'll never. I mean if you told me to write forever, you'd have just gifted me eternity. You'd have given water to the prisoner. If the lord exists, he'd have praised you that you were the one to give me such a chance. You'd say "then why not? Why don't you write often? What's stopping you?" Nothing is dragging me. But if I keep on writing all the time, when will I see? When will I gather? When will I do the other things that I can do? Won't writing come in the way of me and all that? I won't say that I don't know what I am writing. I started after years. How can I stop now? I don't need to. Even I know this. It's tough to swallow the fact that I need to draw the line and move on to other things when all I could've done is write. I don't always write for myself. Sometimes it's to bring a smile or raise a question or just sing through words or to tell a story. So is this what keeps me going? Writing for a cause? Nah, I can't write for a cause. How can I? If I say that writing isn't causal then people would start judging. You can't go on forever if you aren't self fuelled. I mean prices are rising. Till when would people really motivate you? Damn, they can't. Why wait for stupid validations when you can just keep the nib rolling! Or typing? Haha, people these days type so much. Proposing, chatting, commenting, tweeting, posting and what not? Proposing is the talk of the show, fancy pick-ups oh my my, how it'll go, how'll he or she react! Let's leave it. People know what happens after that. Such intelligent ads are up on the media outlets which keep on teasing your brain. People are so busy. Insta reels, YT shorts, Tik tok videos have ruined the concentration that used to be before. I guess that the newer generations will just forget reading books someday. Will we forget breathing? The question is, will texts be ever obsolete? Will scripts mean nothing? So Keats would die? Nooooo. Humans need to be extinct before this happens.What about proposals? Did I bring love back? Yeahhhh. See? Romance it is. This is art. Art never dies. It brings back life. I mean you can sell out movies for crores. But who needs crores? I count smiles. I count moments between us. Me the writer and you, the reader. And if we really bond well enough, you'll cherish the time we spend together. What made me write this? Man, is it even important. I wrote for me this time. Aren't you happy for me? Isn't this enough?
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I render myself to the quiet within meI go with the flowto wherever this heart takes meWith no power over myselfLike falling leaves on a windy dayI give up these reinsAnd that brings mea soothing sangfroid,wiping out all my dismay.©nemesis_here
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MY FRAGILE FLOWERS
I penned a fabulous poem on flower,Carefully saved in my diary forever,I never knew,my poem was so fragile,Oh! My long lost diary inbetween a heap, I pulled it agile,Only to find withered petal of words,That once opened flew away like birds.©meenalochani
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Thank You For the Storm
Thank You For The StormI have sailed in peaceful waterson a gentle easy wind,while passing many ports of callfor one beyond the bendI’m so thankful for those good dayswith calm and tranquil seas,and I am thankful for the comfort found within a peaceful breezeI thank you for safe harbors Lordyou have placed along the way,and for providing leading windsso my ship won’t go astrayFor those times when skies turnfrom fair to dark and gray,when winds start to force my ship to sail another wayI didn’t know where I would end upwith my sails so ripped and torn,but I stopped to thank you anywayin the middle of the stormI thank you Lord for all those days that keep me safe and warm,I thank you for the troubled seasand I thank you for the storm.©johnrtarter
I wonder What i look like in your eyes.~mirage?-ru
All you are is a storyClutched in the palm of your handSeashells by the oceanSlipping golden through the sandAll you are is poetryThat isn't easy to sayYou wait by the window sillWhile your soul walks awayAll you are is whispersShadows beneath the skiesThe coming of the winterAnd the tellers of the liesAll you are is songStitched through your skinThe voices they get louderI can't hear through the dinAll you are is memoryFloating through flesh and dustFingers scything through the sunlightBefore they are left to rustAll I do is put outThe fires that you setWith a wild in your eyesThe wild that I covet- AvitajHello, I guess.
The Fires You Set
Is it just me, Am I seeing things?Or does the way we breathe make perfect sense?I could start fires with what I feel for youThe sun could fade out and we'd see it through- Fires, David Ramirez
~My poetries still lullaby the cold heartbreaksthat I carry in my fragile heart~©_yaish
#breakfast(idk) @writersnetwork #wod
On the oven of my heart I will roast some metaphors Which has the aroma ofCrushed coffee beansTossing the almonds Till it turns goldTo brighten up ourFaded memoriesA glass of water Filled with compatibility Pouring the chocolate milk In the cup of promises.//And darling i will serve you breakfast on the plate of my breaths and garnishing it with the Saccharine kiss//©unspokenpen1927
I so appreciate the editor's choice.
it's about holding my hands in muddled waras the clouds do to each other before theappearance of storm.©squared
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CLOVES AND CAULIFLOWER
Cauliflower is a handsome folk with the tendency to colonize my focus of attention among the several other vegetables- tomatoes, brinjals and capsicum. Although the cooked bullets of the hefty open-armed greenleaves, guarding the souvenirs of abandoned hills doesn't entices my tastebuds,I am well aware about their licensed inclusion in the company of beneficial vegetables.My father prefers to take four pieces of bronzelit cloves before heading for the busy daylight injected schedule. I often misplace it's petite container to inadvertently book myself a memory retention sermon. They won't throw their slavishly plagiarism-strewn hollow manuscripts in the trash but I am ready to discard all the misunderstandings if you approach me directly before the passing of a rancour half-century.Torrential stacked newspapers yawning in a lonely corner, under the dinosauric sky smoking staples of fall, I am chomping semi churned spiced potato chips with carbonated drink, wondering how does the first arctic sunrise feels like. Do you know?©laus_deo
I want a poetic death where my mourning is written by him©rumanrulesneverend