Wanting to turn the cold winds into a shower, she waited for the storm. That storm, she believed, would take her through a secretive egress that’d clear all clouds. The rhythm in her chest paced up signifying some complicated happiness.
If someone discovers you while yearning to be discovered, the feeling remains etched. Then, waiting wouldn’t be exhausting; it also won’t any longer be only the essence of sadness or loneliness. That was what she felt, a roller-coaster of emotions, that couldn’t easily be put in words.
What if that doesn’t happen at the dawn? Maybe, it’s meant to be at the dusk. The end of the wait will be that vibrant sunset, the best show saved only for the end of the day!
In response to Sadje’s ‘What Do You See Prompt #141’.
When people enquire about my busyness and the response comes out to be ‘I’m engaged or committed with something or somebody’, why can’t they just let it be? In awe, the follow-up is usually, ‘Why haven’t you told me yet?’. I mean, why should we announce if it’s just another part of our normal lives? Won’t you get to know if you’re meant to know?
How come the words ‘committed’ or ‘engaged’, in a multitude of minds, just associate themselves with romantic relationships alone? Can’t someone be committed to their family that requires special attention, their dreams that require extra efforts, just those regular chores that happen to be unusually long, or some self care practices that require more energy?
I strongly believe that commitment develops depths of emotions and understanding, be it in a hobby, a goal or a relationship. But, I don’t understand why this personal responsibility often gets mixed up with societal expectations.
shelter of patterns
offer hindsight or foresight
clear blatant vision
Aren’t patterns astonishing? We take shelter in them while also wanting to break them. Quite ironical, is it not?
The varied hues of clouds at dusk, stars at night, the rustle of a coconut palm, the ripples on a silent pool, the aggregation of ice crystals that present us the snow fractals, animal and human behaviour are all nothing but patterns. On a bigger scale, the Milky Way Galaxy which we’re a part of has spiral patterns depicting a Fibonacci sequence in space. Isn’t that stunning? These regularities that reveal themselves in our observations often offer a sense of satisfaction to confused minds, and act like a shelter to hazed thoughts.
Not only in nature are these configurations present. We plan our days, maintain a consistent routine to manage the time and weave a pattern around us consciously or otherwise. We accidentally meet a good old friend, and at once our brain frames a pattern of longing to meet them all. Rhyme schemes are also patterns used by poets to please their readers. Even chaos we face in our lives is an unrecognized pattern which barely gets recognized. That’s what has transformed into the cliché of ‘history repeats itself’.
But, as much as patterns fascinate me, I feel that they’re also a trap.
There was an owl, and a mail sometime later, with a prompt to get home soon. It was once home, and will always be. But barely did it strike then that your voice nor my name will ever be heard thereon. The why was never answered and it’ll remain so.
A new star studded to the dark sky. It began to burn fiercely with that fuel of the pain it left behind on the earth. It is still as bright as the first day even after years, as if the fuel never depleted and is far from running out.
It’s easy to pop a balloon, but not break the brick wall. My heart is now a conglomeration of bricks. With time, it got stronger and stronger and is getting more harder to break. But, I keep trying clinging on the rope of hope, creeping through subdued shadows, to break it someday.
Yeah, you heard it right. I am in pursuit of an intentional heartbreak. How will it open until it is not broken? Only when it breaks and aches, I believe there’ll be ways that let in rays for an alternative exploration.
To live, I’ve broken through the surface of a stone. The stone is me, the rigid part of my own self. I destroyed a self to create a self, more like a sculpture.
I let every colored feeling pile on me, flowing together as a thick black liquid. I enjoy this state, for it is like a mould of stoical repose.
What if words have fragrance?
What if inks have flavour?
My meals would be nutritious;
And my desserts, more sweet.
Credits & Footnote
Inspired by Sammi’s ‘Weekend Writing Prompt #215’.
She has only seen people miss things they’ve lost. She wonders if at all it is normal to miss something she has never known.
There are thoughts she cannot avoid. There are feelings she cannot deny. Imagining the thrills of the unknowns, she gets goosebumps. Continue reading
Silent night; starry sky; special playlist.
The list starts playing. Its unleashing potential is beyond what words can comprehend. As each song plays and the list moves forward, so does one’s emotional state.
Each song holds a chain of some forgotten or buried memories and engulfs the listener with those carefree days with friends, unforgettable sentimental farewell, innocent self, long-forgotten pain, the warmth of family, long-lost love, celebrations, and many others. Continue reading
He’s injured. She slipped away from healing.
He’s the one living with scars because she’s now living with the stars.
Have you seen any elderly couple who want their partner to die first, just because the other doesn’t want to experience the pain of living without their better half?
Inspired by Bulbul’s ‘Twenty-Words Tuesday’ prompt – feelings.
We often exchange views on the debates of the brain and the heart.
Let’s peep a little deeper into this debate. Continue reading
They say a bird in hand is worth two in the bush. So, should I cage myself with you? There’s too much risk in it.
On the other hand, if I let you free, is it not risky too?
Am I going to take a chance? Continue reading
Butterfly effect implies a huge effect being produced as a result of every small action. But, don’t we also create dire consequences by failing to take strong decisions at times? The following is a micro poem penned with this thought.
Wings' softness, easy flight!
With each decision, colours spread.
With each indecision, colours piled.
Wings flapped, now with added tenacity!
Credits and Footnote
Inspired by Bulbul’s ‘Twenty-Words Tuesday’ prompt – butterfly effect.
Hereon, for at least a month, I’ll be publishing two posts a day – one at 12:01 AM and the other at 12:01 PM IST.
Mortals exist and perish. Celestials evolve and evanesce. Stories with obscure margins seem ceaseless.
Nevertheless, everything endless ends.
This is in response to the ‘Weekend Writing Prompt’ by Sammi Cox. The word prompt for this week is ‘endless’, and the challenge is to limit a piece of prose or poem to exactly 18 words.
“I cry as they make me lie in the same spot where ants visit. That goes unnoticed, and my ignorant mom forcefully makes me drink tonic for stomach ache.
Dad and mom don’t stop their silly fights. My tender eardrums are tearing. I wish I can call out granny to save. The least I can do to bring attention is cry.
Elders yell for stupid reasons, and when I do the same to calm them down, I’m tagged a devil! 😈
I laugh at my mom’s funny hairstyle. She thinks it’s the food that I like and feeds me more! Continue reading
I couldn’t believe
nor could I stop believing
[ fill in anything ].
It could be..
➟ this surprise.
➟ I achieved this feat. Continue reading
World around me..
Water balloons explode.
Gift boxes explode.
Elsewhere in the universe.. Continue reading
Being on Time
It’s not about you waiting and wasting your time for someone.
It’s about you valuing other’s time as much as yours.
Timeliness – sign of respect.
Punctuality – measures one’s self-worth.