Nothingness of Life (dVerse OLN)

the bam, the bOOm

and the statues befell,

paper puppets filled with

litters and scraps and nothing else,

.

but of those crackers

that flare up the sparkles

that massacre these tall chaps,

50 feet high and sometimes more,

.

those who epitomize evil,

but they stood for a day,

they befell with celebration

of nothing,

.

t’is said good wins over the evil,

and hence we represent,

with these smokes and noises,

we celebrate, we dance away,

.

we go zany, we find ourselves

lost in crowds, who are there

with no reason but to be a part

of a throng and nothing;

.

nothing else but a sense

that we will win because

we are good and decent, who says that,

but for you, no one and said word is,

.

nothing, this zilch that rules our lives,

evil, wicked which is brutal than evil,

.

we have espoused while we

look at those paper mounds,

burning, our eyes smoldering along

but for naught, nothing,

.

nothing that prevails,

nothing, that our lives

have become these days

*dVerse Open Link Night.

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happy

happy-

a tiny word,

two syllables, still vast,

says everything, saying nothing

at all.

* Poetic form:- Cinquain(2-4-6-8-2)

* For dVerse Open Link Night. It is a crude creation but I have no other words to splash around right now.

Writer’s Cookie

He was turning out to be the person he wished he would never become. He was terrified of the boredom he was experiencing daily. It was as if he had nothing to do.

“The last book, I wrote, was five years back,” he told his close friend.

It was never published. Truthfully, none of his books were ever published. He had written a few books, some of them he could never convince himself to send to the publishing houses and while the others he had sent were kindly rejected, though he didn’t know because he never got a reply and he forgot it all with time.

“It is alright. You have a few ideas in your mind, right?”

“Yes, I have but they mean nothing till the time I start working on them. They have to come to life to mean something,” he desperately put forward his agony.

“Then work on them.”

“I can’t. Whenever I turn on my laptop and open a word document to type out the words ready to pour out of my soul, I end up typing not even a single word.”

“Why is it so?”

“It is because I feel doubtful either about my ideas or about my capability of working over them.”
He sipped his tea but didn’t pick up the almond cookie, even though he wanted to and rather just looked at it with a morbid sincerity.

“You are no longer enjoying your writing, are you?”

“I haven’t been writing. So, how can I tell?”

“It is okay. Take some time. And may be then you can join a creative writing class.”

“I am old now and there would be kids there.” He finally moved his hand towards the cookie to pick it up; it had lured him into a desire to consume it.

But his young friend’s hand was swifter and she picked it up and gobbled it down and his hands remained in an awkward position. It was the last cookie.

Light and Dark

The thoughts of light had come to haunt her once again, when she was safely cocooned in her darkness.

“Why? Why do they come back?” she cried but there was nothing she could do. She had to face them because they were as real to her as her darkness.

She had left any hope for a bright future and was finally accepting her light-less fate. After falling down again and again, she had accepted her defeat against her demons who were now ruling her from within.

“Let me be alone. Let me be.”

The white glimpses of the happiness, the word she had forgotten, wouldn’t stop tormenting her. They were there to kill the very essence of her soul.

“Please go away. Please, I beg you,” she whimpered, suffocating in the brightness of those thoughts.

They were the instruments of her demons only to end whatever was left of her.

.

*Written in response to VisDare Writing Prompt.

Blue Thing

The blue expanse up above

so wide, beneath which

all our lives astray

no path, just a foggy trance

 

confusion, delusion, askance

this life does nothing but betray

teach us all the lies, this bitch

of feelings, of emotions, of love

 

there is nothing but that blue thing

under which we all suffer and sing.

 

P.s.- Another one written just like Red Lust and Violet Juice. You can suggest the name for this particular poetic form, the rules of which are- (i) Three stanzas, rhyming scheme being- ABCD/DCBA/EE, (ii) Description of some strong emotion and (iii) Prominence of a color. And it would mean a lot to me if you would also write such a poem. Don’t forget to tell me about it.

Draw me, sketch me….

Draw me, sketch me, make a portrait of the being that is me

Show me who I am, what I do, which way I should go

Show it to me through your art, tell me who I am

Write me, read me, scan me, make a novel out of me

Let me know who I am, what I do, which way I should go

Let me be known through your creativity who I am

Won’t you do this for me, this much I ask from you

Would you do this for me, I ask nothing else from you

Show me, let me know- would you?- Draw me, sketch me,

write me, read me, make a portrait, write a novel out of me.

Our True Selves + Story of the Swamp Deer and Us

A different way of seeing yourself… Seeing yourself in a different light- it would definitely show you the inner-most feelings that you’re trying to hide even from yourself. You may not even identify the person you really are. And that is the path where we all fail in loving ourselves- the true ourselves.

I had heard a long time back,

In the days of childhood,

The story of a swamp deer,

Who adored his lovely antlers,

Sitting atop his head.

This was the personality of his,

He really really adored,

But couldn’t see his flexible legs,

Because they were ugly.

He had a false perception of himself,

Which just covered his beauty,

He could no more see his real power,

The power that his legs beheld.

Once going through the forest by the lake,

Admiring the shadow of his lovely antlers,

The swamp deer heard the loud call,

Of the vicious predator wolves.

The voice came from nearby,

And the deer knew this time is so wry,

He started to run away from the voice,

But till then the wolves had got his trail,

And now were now behind their prey.

The swamp deer started running away,

And soon it seemed he had lost the wolves,

All thanks to his long flexible legs,

That gave him the power of running so well.

The swamp deer took a deep breath of relief,

But still in order to save himself,

Made an incentive to hide in the long bushes.

As he entered the bushes, everything went loose,

For his beautiful antlers got stuck in the bushes.

He tried, struggled to get them free,

But there was nothing he could do.

All his struggles were in vain,

And all of a sudden again came the howl.

It seemed as if the prey has been found again,

The swamp deer tried to get himself free,

He struggled even more and more,

And now even cursed God for his beautiful antlers.

The rest of the story goes like as what you can imagine,

The legs at first saved the swamp deer,

But his beautiful antlers brought him death,

For he could not accept himself fully,

He couldn’t know his real power,

That resided in his legs.

Similar is the case of us all,

We get a perception, we love ourselves,

For the image we have of us in our minds,

But the powerful truth resides in our feelings,

Within us, hence, it is time for us to embrace “us”.