• theturquoisemetaphor_ 20w

    To the writer in me,
    Wouldn't you put an end to writing about the same solitude, humanity and chaos? I know, you never come out of your comfort zone, but how many days you think you can you still be caged inside them? Do you even think is writing all about being in comfort zone? Do you really call yourself a writer, if you don't explore various genres? For how many more days will you keep your wings flying only for the same short distance?

    // On somedays you'll flow everything your mind has stacked up all at once. On the other days your fuel is all just drained and you don't write anything. //

    Is this a never ending cycle?

    People say writing is their ikigai, writing heals people actually. You learned this art to flow out your emotions and all these days you have did so. but today I know, you wouldn't / never bury your writer self; but its somewhere hiding and playing peek a boo with you in this corner of your room, deciding whether it should visit you or not. Maybe, you can label it as Writer's block for now. But what if the "for now" is eternal. No it cannot be, it shouldn't be.

    Life is creat(ing/ed) a chaos for you each day, and writing sooth(es/ed) you everytime, you very well know that. And I know, you can't bid a goodbye to it just like that. FEAR. Writer's block can't overthrow you.

    Writing is like watching a 5 season long series, the process might be too long but the ending is worth it and so is you. Writing might bring circumstances to pause you, but writing cannot entirely stop you. You should learn to jump over the pause, the breaks, the negatives. Afterall life is all about battle right?

    Your emotions. Your ink. Your thoughts. Shouldn't be left concealed in an airtight container and kept secured inside the dusty attic. It should flow freely with full freedom.

    Dried ink. Dusty papers. Broken pen. Half stitched poems. Crinkled tales. Playlists turned on. Moon was listening to your meaningless poems when you thought you were a soliquy at 2am, since all these nights. Go meet Sylvia Plath, Robert Frost, William Wordsworth, Shakespeare and who not? through their words. They'll teach you what poems really are.

    Reminisce those days, the days when life was tough for you. Those days when people left you. Those days when you were all alone. Those days when there were none to listen to you. Scribble on some metaphors and similes. A tiny cube of alliteration or hyperbole maybe. Add a little dose of poetic essence and mix well everything together. Tadaaa! Your poem is ready.

    Everything is upon you. I hope you wouldn't go dormant again.

    Yours,
    A learner,
    Your writer self.

    ┬ęPoojaa