Without title...temporary pause

A song/poem/prose poem without a title and without a flowing line of thought. Unchained thoughts, hanging somewhere in the mid air of my mind, finally finding its way onto the blog..

Yes,Sylvia writes this one

the title doesnt match with the poem
but words need to be told, with title or without title
so here it is..
empty heart
empty spaces
empty room,
empty shelves,
memories still filled with past,
but dry parched lips of love and lost time,
and memories stinging like the hot summer sun,
trying to create memories which will not hurt,
they sooth my heart, like the chilled glass of lemonade,
but still spaces which are empty, dry land of the soul,
where the heart silently, tired drags,
a hope raises its faint whispers from the dark into the light,
Amen, here i come dear life,
here i come

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Thoughts & Review on- Pinto has an idea by Rajeev Saxena

Thoughts & Review on- Pinto has an idea by Rajeev Saxena I am reminded of our young canteen employee, while writing this review. He is a well educated individual, albeit doing a job way below his qualifications.However, unknown and sad his circumstances might be which forced him to take up this job, you can see his ingenious skills in the way he washes the cups, saucers, hangs the kitchen towels to dry, etc. His tea making skills might need a little more practice, but his "jugaad" skills are definitely being put to good use. "Pinto has an idea" by Rajeev Saxena is story of a boy named Rajat Srivastava poplularly known as "Pinto" by everyone. It starts in a small town Atrauli in UP, where Pinto a young innovator, sets his curious mind to solve everything in his life. His first invention being a tool on how to remove the kernels of a corn successfully. This little idea germinates the seed of inventing things in life to make day to day living easy.
Read more

Now a woman is a poem...

Now a woman is a poem... Now a woman is a poem, and a man a complex web of words, A woman is a different season every day, and a man at times a calm sea and sometimes roaring waves. A woman is a poem, a beautiful, carved, shapely limb of a tree, a swaying leaf in the wind, or a piece of satin scarf drying on the clothes line. A man is a novel, a premise to be understood and followed, A pipe or a cigar or perhaps a hat, His shadows, his wants and his ambitions. A woman is a poem, filled with oh so few words, simile here, metaphor there, mostly an irony and a master in euphemism, A man is a novel, filled with infinite words, infinite possibility, limitless dreams, and grinding failure. You don't make love to a novel, You make love to a poem, You keep it beside you, perhaps a crumbled paper, hidden in a wallet, an anthem for someone or someone's slogan a vow at the wedding or a sombre word at the funeral.. But a novel at times is so much more, a
Read more

Burden of being lovers

 The burden of being lovers Rita stood near the gas stove, waiting for the dal to cook, Her husband languorously sat on the sofa ,waiting for the sms, Their daughter avni waited for the first move from the boy she liked.  The burden of being lovers, It haunts us at the loneliest times , In the crowd,  At the bedside when it's 2 am in the morning In the kitchen when the cooker's whistle blows, it brings Rita out of her memories, In the living room, where her husband wakes up from a mental nap of dreams, Their daughter Avni when she watches a movie while thinking about someone else. This burden of being lovers, The precious time spent thinking, Anticipating, waiting, expecting,  Manipulating our own mind with thousand of thoughts, Why we aren't lovers like before, Rita questions her husband in her mind, Because we are parents, Her husband calculating the installments in his head, The only respite he sees now is the extra bonus, Avni worships the mobile and says a prayer in th
Read more