Are all scribblings by me veiled attempts to find another soul that will walk by me for a while at least. Am I in denial and hiding the fact that being single hurts me. But I enjoy the freedom of it and am happy about it. The deers dance, rabbits rumble and run, and even snakes shed skin to become new inspired and happy about my enjoying alone. Freedom is a decree closest to my heart and all my married friends envy me and not the other way round. Yet the soul by its very nature seeks another soul, a soulmate. Why one soul? Being single I can be a collector of souls, a relation weak perhaps but would suffice.
I was born alone but won’t end that way,
and alone with helping minds was this magical wordy fortress built,
not kids, but it will be my legacy that lasts.
My brother has been a caretaker and caregiver for me for quite some time. Though I heed not him or my parents. I am my own rebellious self doing as I wished and pleased. My life may turn in to shambles but I would have it that it did on my own terms. I need a mentor, a new direction and more. I am submitting myself to this blog.
My overbearing bossy brother sighed and said
Oh, ye blog I wash my hands and give him over on to your care
watch and guide him to happiness till he lives.
Love is general and it is plural and the restriction to only a couple is another kind of love, allowed but in discretion.
Love yourself first that is the foundation of all other love. I loathe myself and therefore am incapable of realising the true heights of love. A valentine’s day had come and gone and I never noticed, that is the type of sordid single life I have.
It was just another day
what if I missed it? My love is beyond boundaries, for all special,
till my end of days.
I now have made my blog as the second home for me.
I’ve rested movies and books to saunter on the blogosphere. I spend most time in my own blog scribbling at times writing. I venture out to other blogs earlier to invite likes for my own blog but now to enjoy myself. They inspire me, they are like me contemporary and with skills that I can aspire to. I am no flirt yet I enjoy female converse and company more regardless of age. I am stating a universal truth that some don’t admit. Opposites attract, interact, inspire etc. Moreover I am a sort of feminist who believes women in general have more warmth and that their voice is stifled in the patriarchal world. Whatever it is regardless of gender, man or woman, I would like to converse with other bloggers. I’ve made quite a few attempts mentioning them in my blog posts like a child. I feel the Gravatars are real people with whom I bond over time.
I am a stalker of a different breed
that stalks bloggers high and low with soft corner for women
to repulse, just like me more, often and on your own.
I write with passion undiluted and raw like dangerous concentrated acids in labs.
I write posts that are close to my heart yet are unappreciated by others. Some not so close to me scribbles strike the right chord that makes them popular and appreciated. What am I to do in such situations. Rejoice that some work is appreciated or languish that my truest words have not found home anywhere.
A gold mine I am,
yet admired for rubbish in my folds,
while precious languish.
I weep like the fishes my tears invisible in the multitude of water drops,
I swim underwater, even when near, the shore invisible in warps.
I am shy and introverted. I fret over any mistakes by me in natural discourse with others. Having been a couch potato for more than a decade I can’t do things that others do with ease.
I am lost in the presence of others,
unable to fly dead weight my feathers.
I can’t interact in meaningful dialogues with others. My talents remain hidden. I am banished to ignominy. I shall languish in emptiness and mediocrity for all of eternity.
times good and bad have come and gone,
yet that one true work of beauty is beyond reach torn.
The clocks chime, the puppeteers mime, the sailors sizzle in water and peasants furrow the land and yet I find them not alluring as they fail to inspire my words. Deep from my underbelly and from somewhere near my gut flow words but they are my own and not cause any ripple with others. Yet I scribble along to release the pressure that builds deep within me.
I write for me yet seek to find you and share thoughts
a beauty made from pains that you might enjoy of sorts.
[ This short mixture of prose and poetry was inspired from the style of Shreya Vikram’s Blog ]
Stylish, high sounding words exhibit a rich vocabulary in writings that are beyond simple souls like me.
I use simple words and phrases though with ample innovative metaphors, smilies and imagery. They though lack elegance and charm that other writings have and are raw and to the core true. The world seems to scorn me as much as it can.
Woe on foolish me
that used silence and simple words to grab your heart
you left with loudest one rich in words.
I am an apprentice wordsmith mastering the trade slowly but surely.
I write for myself and others too with joy. The pain is not in poetry but in the lonely boring life one leads. The poems are actually antidotes for the pain. But only when the outer world connects with and enjoys your work can there be true joy for yourselves. I scribble rapidly one thought after next capturing momentous emotions. Yet I too yearn for those near perfect verses that transport and enthral its readers. But there are times when my imperfections make me smile and be content.
I write faster than you can read
surely hurried there must be several imperfections
how then can I succeed?
How can a fool become wise, the novice an expert and the wanderer a prophet perhaps.
I am happy as I scribble and by the results. Then I go elsewhere and read stuff by others. What mastery of craft and content. How many many folks with a better hand, mind and soul than me. After that should I continue my pursuit and endeavour I ask myself. The muse smiles heavily on me at times but I just can’t stop my childish overindulgence and spoil the broth. If only I take time enough for each journey but I just scrawl and sail fast. Someday I say, someday there will be beauty in totality of my wanderings instead of the nuggets now.
I wish I could grow,
reach heights and summit like the few blest,
from novice to best.
Warmth in winter chill is exhilarating, comforting but warmth of a person is more endearing.
We meander through life with varying emotions. We can’t be endearing to all people at all times. But just remember that the other person is just like us with the same emotions, ambitions and pains. We see some people who share their warmth all the time. They are brand ambassadors of kindness. You can’t fake kindness. It comes from caring for others over ourselves. If we can’t be thus then let us try to fake it at least. For it might lead us to the real thing.
Kindness is worth naught
yet when you reach out to help the distraught
the earth smiles with you.