I am

I am a drunkard of emotions,

swirling around in circles,

expected to cry words of wisdom

while I cling to the edges of conscious,

.

I am a prophet of pious proportions,

thunder crackles up in my head,

neurons against neurons playing

the song of my insanity,

.

I am born to hurt myself,

and mend all the bones I crack

by the absurdity of my notions,

applying salt to my wounds,

.

I am a sleepy monk of silence,

in meditation of my thoughts,

vain, egotistic, self-possessed,

clinging to the edges of self,

.

I am a coward of carcass speech,

playing trumps with the world,

tying the noose of binds,

across my saggy throat,

.

I am the one you sneer at,

the one who is strange, queer,

because I have embraced myself,

destining myself to a life of bane

.

Photo source

Submitting the link for:

1. Sunday Wordle

2. Poetry Jam

This is not a personal piece. Thank you.

Circus of Emotions

circus of emotions, finding a way to fly,

leaving a tail of silver glittering fire,

the residue of what once was dear to heart,

.

the land where, one had found the strength,

time to bid goodbye, to those boulders,

(which are now broken into sand kernels),

.

as the crescent moon gazes, meditating

at the scene of sultry separation,

.

the circus of emotions in tatters, flying

away, with the memories of those lives,

no longer tied, to the rope of significance,

.

I close my eyes… I am that pulled apart earth,

bidding goodbye to the circus, and along with it,

a farewell, to what all were my dreams once

.

* The art work is by Catrin Welz Stein. You can find more of her work at http://catrinwelzstein.blogspot.de/

** A quick piece for dVerse Poetics.

Day 06: A Book That Broke Your Heart

Okay, I am continuing with the 30 Day Book Challenge. So, now is the time to discuss a book that broke my heart. That is a very powerful phrase. I don’t know if some book shattered my soul or broke my heart, as being mentioned. Yes, I have felt sad and there have been some books where i shed tears during some instances that were painful to read.

A Week in Winter is one such novel which stirred quite some emotions in me. It is written by Marcia Willett. I have mentioned it before but haven’t discussed it so far. I guess I am going to do that right now.

A Week in Winter is a family drama in simple words but it is much more than just that. It is an exploration of human emotions and how people come to see themselves and their relationships at various stages of their life. It tells of how complicated certain relationships can be and how a house can come to symbolize feelings of love and belonging. Maudie Todhunter is the protagonist who is the owner of a farmhouse in Devon countryside and she is going to sell it. And that comes out to be a central part of the entire story, which involves her step-daughter and her family along with a woman who comes to explore the country house by the name of Moorgate.

There are certain other stories involved enlisting many other characters but in the end everything comes together. This book gives you such a reading experience that you would laugh, smile, cry a bit, feel elated, a little frustrated. It is a complete package of human feelings and emotions.

Let me tell you, when did I cry in this book? It was when a character whom I come to adore died. It was already told before hand that she was going to die but finally when that chapter came, I felt really sad. Because she was someone I wanted to be like.

Author Marcia Willett

That is all for today.

I remember you…

“He isn’t ready. I won’t suggest you to meet him.”

“I would like to see him and that is my decision.”

“Love, he doesn’t remember…”

A single drop of tear appeared in her eyes, “I don’t care whether he remembers or not. I want to meet… meet him,” she said in a cracked voice.

“As you wish dear, but do not tell him…”

They walked up the old wooden staircase which creaked at every step. There was a foul smell emerging from the room looming before them.

“I give you ten minutes,” the care taker said and walked back down the stairway.

She was left alone. Hesitatingly, she knocked at the door. There was no reply. She knocked again.

“Uh!” a terrible voice emerged from inside.

She opened up the door and found the wrinkled man sitting on the chair, curiously looking at her.

“I remember you, sweetheart… my daughter.”

* This comes out to be my 400th post. I thank you all for the continuous support. It is a great feeling. This blog has become the most important thing in my life and I am not kidding. 🙂

And to rejoice the moment, I would like to share one of my most favorite songs with you all:-

moon beam

The moon peered down at me through the haze, while I stool silent, lost in the reverent atmosphere. The sound of the waves was enriching and it filled my soul with a longing. And it seemed the tears would make an appearance but it wasn’t so. Their time hadn’t yet come because my longing wasn’t yet acknowledged by my soul. It was just a fleeting balloon away from the reach of my touch. But then the haze parted and the moon beam descended on me and I could see my flesh in the dark and I knew I was a breathing creature, not merely a conscious flying away in the oblivion. I recognized my longing and then those tears, I loathed and loved at the same time, spilled out but there were just a few of them. May be it was just meant to be so.

a piercing moon beam

all the past wounds torn open

realizing tears flow