Diary (20/05/2018)

This is the second Diary entry from me. In the last entry from three months before I had mentioned the setting up of a lending library, it has been set up and there is only a lukewarm response so far.

I am in the process of setting up a restaurant in my hometown. But  most importantly like most bloggers I too share a passion and also an ambition for writing. In my case my ambition is to be an author of popular fiction novels. I am in the process of writing the manuscript of a children’s novel. I intend to publish and see it as a printed book.

I am sharing the first eleven chapters for your valuable feedback and suggestions.

 

Advertisements

An untidy uncouth fool

An untidy uncouth fool in despair and hunger blind,

sat upon a misty hilltop clutching stomach unkind,

a heavenly dame came

offering roasted game

all hunger left behind on the glimpse of her sweet behind.

God and insanity

I firmly believe there is no life after death. Death is final. It is just dust to dust and ashes to ashes. But the travails of life and of living have me on my knees bowing to any force above to help me redeem myself and reform my life.

My greatest fear is life as much as death. I used to fear being lost in insanity forever. But now I fear losing life without finding myself worthy of life or love. Diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, I am on lithium medication and have had quite a few episodes of insanity stretching from being months together to just a couple of days.  Each time I come out of the episodes with some memory intact. Even if I believe in God, I don’t believe in the devil. I can’t subscribe to a theory of a superior force being evil. A miracle makes you believe in good and in God.

But what of the memories I have of recent episodes that showed me little bad and inimical magic tricks to hinder me. I just can’t classify them as mere hallucinations when their residual effects are all around. Whatever it is I have to suppress it deep within myself. Accepting God to me might mean accepting insanity.

I have to start afresh after each episode. I end up in the start line halfway through the race. Can’t I not finish at least one race to call myself worthy of this life, worthy of love?

 

La Belle Dame sans Merci: A Ballad by Keats

(A ballad by famous poet John Keats that even non poem lovers can enjoy)
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
       Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
       And no birds sing.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
       So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
       And the harvest’s done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
       With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
       Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
       Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
       And her eyes were wild.
I made a garland for her head,
       And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
       And made sweet moan
I set her on my pacing steed,
       And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
       A faery’s song.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
       And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
       ‘I love thee true’.
She took me to her Elfin grot,
       And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
       With kisses four.
And there she lullèd me asleep,
       And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamt
       On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
       Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci
       Thee hath in thrall!’
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
       With horrid warning gapèd wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
       On the cold hill’s side.
And this is why I sojourn here,
       Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
       And no birds sing.