Why do I love my colour sets more than anything else? Each time someone asks me to throw away the broken crayons in my bag to the garbage, I feel like I encase them in coffins and asphyxiate them whilst the art in me also gets throttled and remain breathless. Goals hadn't been extant for so long and now it seems like they still thrive. Just that the depth to which they have sunken seems fathomless.
Today will remain as just another day of anticipations for an upcoming future and a signature of regrets of yesterdays sealed at the bottom of its page. Life now feels like a ride on a parachute. Risky. Adventurous. Yet thrilling and enjoyable.
I remember once I wrote in a poem, "time is a magician". Indeed it is. It reminds me of the graph of a sine function that is 0 at some points and a complete 1 at some other points. There are points where it takes positive values and points where it takes negative values. But at the end of the day, nothing persists for long. It keeps changing and the graph is continuous and differentiable everywhere.
There has been times when I craved to draw something in my artbook and now, when it seems like the right time to do this, I'm rushing behind the colors of poetry. When we cleaned our room recently, I got a bag full of broken crayons. I could've thrown it into the garbage and bought another set. But there's a bond that will never break. If I do, I will remain as that artist who dispersed her art in the trashbin surrendering to the cacophonies and noisy guffaws around me.
This is a confession I make. To poetry. To art. To me. For not being in where I should be. For placing each other in the wrong places. For building coffins for excitement and saving time for frustration.
Things will come and go. Seems like, it is a painless writers' block with painful wings and wounded feet. But it shall too pass and a day will arrive when happiness and poetry rests under the same roof.
The mondo is a Japanese style of poetry written in the form of a question followed by an answer, both written by the same person. (Originally, it used to be written as a collaboration of two poets, one presenting a thoughtful question and the other giving an enlightening answer in two different stanzas.)
--Today , write a creative one-liner mondo on a particular color--