Saturday, 25 June 2022

Just a vivid impression of a rainy day inscribed with figments of my fantasies...

same week, different day



What would you call this burning desire,

of watching the passing of dismal clouds,

losing my vision in frenzied blur of fog,

trickling down of droplets on window glass.

Day in, day out.

What would you call this dull ache,

of associating bleak skies with words,

taking notice obliviously as if a presage,

anticipating to be acknowledged and realised.

Day in, day out.

What would you call this unexpressed anguish,

of nothing that is left of us, you and I, or ever was,

misplacing everything I touch, never to be found again,

unriddling conundrums of this inevitable nothingness.

Day in, day out.




The place where I sit at work has this mundane view of sky, and the room is as good as empty every morning. I slip into poetic trance and often finding myself motivated to write. When I am away, I miss the place, the view. This poem being written on one of those days when it drizzled for hours, put away in my memory and relived days later (today). Just a vivid impression of a rainy day inscribed with figments of my fantasies...


Thursday, 6 January 2022

Wide-eyed wonder: Volume One


The first time I saw him, I noticed his remarkably beautiful eyes—

Saturday, 7 August 2021

If You Really Want Something…

 

work for it. (Saying this would be putting a dampener on someone's metaphysical belief.)

summon it. (so witchy!)

cry for it. (Like I did, as funny as it gets. Please don't.)

When I held this book in my hands, I wondered how something inanimate can teach me so many life lessons. There is a strong possibility I will cry every time I will hold this book. Forget Mr Darcy, this book alone makes me emotional...