Saturday, 28 April 2018

A Now-ever-changing Meadow

A Now-ever-changing Meadow

In my grim meadow of disarray, 
On a grim gradual day,
Sparks a spark
Of sweet luscious colors. 

Unknown wandered,
with its bright and lively wings, 
It flies and flutters,
To grim flowers, it clings.

Soon from its touch,
The flowers rebloom,
Rebloom, neologized. 
To a new future,
Totally colorized. 

For the infinity, I see in the meadow,
Alike the inexistent end of the horizon,
Courageous and spiritful,
It endeavors, and continues to,

What was a dry, dusty, grim,
is a meadow gently being beautified,
Forever now it, a butterfly, as I define,
Endeavors to make my life worthwhile. 

It is special, colorful,
Joyful, wonderful. 
An impeccable human.  
Je ne suis pas seul,
plus maintenant! 
Ma vie a fleuri!


Thursday, 14 December 2017

Girt – Phase 2: Fathoming the Fear

Phase 2: Fathoming the Fear

Sequentially uncertain, events broken, lost maybe. Those non-construable chirps maybe talk about those events I don't know of, lost maybe. Feet cold, almost trembling, perplexed me wondered why? Is it pondering for which I've more trembles, about those events, I don't know of and are lost maybe? Where are they? I wonder, as my hands join my feet, doing their thing while I'm bewildered. Where are they? Mountain peaks, sure I've seen, below the waters I haven't, these events are probably sunken deep, so deep that they're lost maybe. Where are they? What's happening? Amidst the wilderness, my bewilderness only grew, with these events and memories that are lost maybe. But looking right at the sky, "Oh, wait!" I hear myself, still, still confused, "wait, wait, wait...," as I realize they're no longer lost maybe, they are somewhere far, far far deep, I can barely see them. "No!" I go, "no, no, no, nooo!" I go further. Still, just as I sat hearing myself, my body hair play their cards, begin doing their own thing, and I feel the goosebumps. Some, only some aren't lost maybe. Not some, only parts! In the stillness, moves rapidly my heartbeat – almost strong enough to quake my whole body. Shocking second-long episodes hit my eyes, dark they were, black and gloomy, while I stared at the sky-blue sunny day sky. They vanish, vanish so rapidly at their will, and I can't seem to bring them back! But when they come back, I only saw and felt the cries and yells, and a panic that felt so familiar. I, maybe, fathomed the fear, I construed, although only a tad bit, but I fathomed the fear, don't know of what, but, a subconscious deadly fear, that terrified me.  

Thursday, 23 November 2017

Girt – Phase 1: Feet in the black, out of the white

Phase 1: Feet in the black, out of the white

Midst of nature, a day at Ladakh trekking towards the first camp. Fun, joyous, exciting, tiring and funny; we walk through stones, sands, roads, and inclines. Great camp assisters we had, I loved them for every effort of theirs and the charming smiles they always had on their glimmering faces! Although cold, not chilling an evening, we finally made it to our first camp and while waiting for the slow and tedious second group to arrive, we lent our hands to assemble the tents – where we rested as our dear Sun stowed itself onto the west! "Three in one!", said one of my instructors. I aggregated myself with the closest friends I have ever had. 10:00 PM it was when the Sun had already vanished making space for the stars and moon to spend their night. We closed our tents and eyes, entering a trance and later sleep. In the depth of it, unaware of what happened, I woke up to the next dawn of people chirping about a boy yelling at 12:00AM, chirping precisely like a bird, that I cannot construe of. "I'm trapped, open the tent please!" He said! And "I'll die, please, open the tent! Please!" as well! Not a second past that, I hear my friends murmur in a disquieting tone: "Is he up yet? We need to talk about what happened to him last night!"

Sunday, 16 July 2017

A Thorn's Ode

A Thorn's Ode

Dear Rose,
Remember thorns
From the very beginning?

Not a no,
But to lose a friend,
Pricks a thorn.
Wrenches a secluded heart,
Drenched in blood, as red you are.

Truth, trust, reality.
You facade them,
A thorn that had only
Those red ones to talk to,
Is ditched for being true?
"Dear Rose, don't teach me
To lie! To be untrue! Oh dear Rose,
My honesty is a dagger
And my affection, true.
Don't accept the latter, but...
Friends, good ones, at least we could be?"

For all, a lonely thorn
Was left again, dead of companions
That hardly considered him
To grow into a twig,
Yet he did, and flourished entirely.
But, unable to fruition the ruby shine.
As that Rose, wrenched his heart
As a friend and not as a desire!

Saturday, 6 May 2017

It's been a while...

It's been a while since I've written...
Things have altered, and life too. Maturity and clumsiness are growing over me, rendering helplessness, diminishing enthusiasm, and a dying passion. Well, not every picture says a thousand words, this one clearly not! The one that I just painted onto your gray matter.

Or maybe it does, but holds on to the rest – an infinite number of expressions that are worthy of painting a paper blue, yet don't suffice to define what I feel. The picture might have a countenance, a mask of a thousand words presumably, however, what is abdominal remains unblemished alike flesh.

To be broken...
To be broken... Uh.
Could it be any more obvious? It's abstruse, as I mentioned earlier. Meagre is a dictionary, best put!
Life is miserable and hopeless, and chewy to manage.
Short and sweet I kept it for you, although it's sour up my throat.

Tuesday, 21 June 2016



Walking currently:

I won, not
A prize, a battle,
A competition,
Nor a draw.

I won, not
Any tangible,
But maturation,
In the humanity's maw.

Possessing power,
A visage deserted of covetousness,
On behalf of my heart,
That only intended to aid.

A few steps backwards:

Extreme possession,
of that uncontrollable ability.
Led me to reflect myself internally:
Sheer obsession to aid.
Though and yet I suffered:
Sheer ignorance
Sheer ostracisation
Sheer dispair
Until and after
The sky clad itself,
A farewell to the sun,
Which wasn't ever bright enough,
To fight the darkness that followed it.

Forecasting the end of my trail:

Fate, a misery.
Even when success lies at my feet,
Jealous rest, grasp my chemise,
Willing to eat me off,
To suppress and bury
That wonderful ability:
Later I mastered.
All that
To manifest a superior margin
Of themselves.

I won, not.
A question indeed,
A vanquished fight against the resentful: just like a sacrificial piece,
Or, loosing that power, strong enough to impact the world?
Like an argument is whirling in my head which I can't overcome,
Like the palpable situation, I won or not?

Monday, 29 February 2016

Unwarranted challenge!

I am thinking,
about walking,
walking continuously,
 Not noticing,
The successive hindrances.

Whilst thinking,
And dreaming,
I was letting myself topple,
Over the roads of life.

It's a challenge,
Huh, so unwarranted!
So acclimatised I am,
Within the radar of prejudices,
Judgements, claims etc.
All of them, enacting,
To be so formal,
But yet, unintelligent here. 

Huh, yet not noticing, I walk!
Towards falling and
Approaching the hindrances,
Further on a path, towards success!