Posts Tagged With: hope

Etching On.

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Etching Patterns of thoughts on the papyrus of our mundane lives..

Designs we croon into the ear of our twin incarnation..

Curved stretches curbing across the mounts..the will, the wish..

Binding with the harsh breath..mellow at times.. juggling at times..

Strolling across to plot a breathless life..

 

Stumble over potholes dug by our own soles, Hasn’t thee rolled over, traced back, and strutted along then?

Yet the path of etched drawls back and forth scuttering on..

Inking on.. smug.. or giggly.. dreadful or greedy.. smiling through the blots of ink..

In hope in faith.. for trusting to be bound by fate.. we etch on..

 

A kind samaritan spinning the fate.. whispering incantations to string fate to wish..

A mildly fulfilled soul springs along.. sketching butterflies..

And yet then. droplets of pain blotch the ink just along the curve..

 

Words lack depth one might say.. as the heart fails to siphon strings of syllables

Wishing to only tell stories of memorable cons, fortitudes.. innocence and love..

How often has thy samaritan hidden in the cave of doubt?

How often does thee ponder of ways to escape the designs?

Trapped in thy own breath, memories and desires..?

 

Or did the benign fisherman row thee  across?

I think he did.. didn’t he?

Anew bridge..anew sketch..

Anew binding of faith and fate..as thee etches on..

 

P.S- Random thoughts, random sketch as I try to drown myself in something mundane.

 

 

 

Categories: amibiguity, answers, art, blogging, courage, darkness, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, freedom, fun, HOPE, life, living, loss, love, love oneself, memories, poetry, poetry on life, poetry on love, soul, strength, struggle, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Man needs man

There is no one to beat you..no one to defeat you ,except the thoughts of your self feeling bad.. Words of song by bob Dylan.

I have tried to imbibe these but have failed quite a few times…passed, but failed too.. I try to express that somehow.. how much ever I strive to be a lone wolf .. man needs man.. and feelings can not be fought.. only felt and past.. and in the end we do feel the same.. and that itself binds us together however alone we might feel..

Like in the jungle book:The strength of the pack is the wolf…and the strength of the wolf is the pack.

 

Bad for self.. about self.. feeling guilt.. remorse..

The red and black bitter serum..

how much can one fill in a jar..

the brim would be nudged..and then taken over..

mind control is a daring game..

ain’t for all..

but a subtle and slow manipulation of self…

Like gripping the wheel and steering the ship…

as gusts of wind blow and waves topple over one another.

but how do u know which mind to save yourself from and which mind to embrace..

 

Yet a master captain.. fosters a crew.. a family..

Bound by trust…

None can steer alone..

When living the days on thy own deck…

wading through waters that surround every eye raving the sea..

And resting at foreign ports..

One stands hand in hand.. shoulder to shoulder with a comrades by side..

 

I try to slash away the doubts.. I try to right my wrongs..

Yet I falter always..

But I shall hope that my comrades are by my side..

 

Desert a myriad of breathing sand..

Morsels sinking into one another..

Minuscule particles in friction.. yet in synchronized turbulence…

What I feel,you feel… as I am, you are..at different turn we take with winds…

Sand in solidarity would be of what essence? If not a bound to the desert?

Was the desert born as a whole? Does sand give meaning to the desert or desert to the sand?

sand derives its purpose from the desert.. from the dunes.. from the clusters..

So does man.. friend I say not in desperation but in my wishful way..

That man needs man.. And I need your shoulder and your warm friction and vibrant turbulence my friend..

 

 

 

 

 

Categories: darkness, emotions, expressions, life | Tags: , , , , , | 5 Comments

Live Like a Child

Live Like a Child

I was born.. but I found not the meaning of birth..

If you died, A sudden embark to a land beyond.. You couldn’t fathom death either..

I lived an innocence.. Forgotten for long..Then I lived in it from the out..

The fight for a candy.. Moments pass… huddled together with silly smiles..pink tongues..

Candies.. toys.. A run across the fields heedless of the sundown.. or the scorcher sunshine…

I felt the hallucinations we impose on thy innocence… I felt the trysts we curse it with..

Now you are mashed, molded, drained, rushing towards a speck of life you see afar.. ..

You know your colors well, but see them as spots.. Unseeing them in nature’s joyous endowment..

You know the variances.. but you forgo.. then turn away from the nature of their wondrous existence..

But I lived in it from the out.. you must to.. Because it’s in you, waiting to clutch your finger with its tiny palm..

Flip the pages of your learnt lyrics of life to the moments you cherished as a child..

Fight not for lands.. Fight not for the end you know not of.. be not a foe to a brother in another color..

Be not in combat with kindness.. let it sway you to the hedge of your paths..

Let it lead you to the forest of fallen leaves..  yellow..green..orange.. dancing colors on the trees..

Fear not the paths yet to come.. fluster not about the paths you leave..

Run in the fields as you would.. for you live a life unknown..

To know you must live like nature..  Flair in colors that make you smile

Stagger not my child, autumn is here..

The crisp sound as you walk.. is the sound of a new flourishing time to come..

I reveled in living.. Skipping away from the ways to live..

I cradled the child.. nudged it awake..teaching it to breathe again.. as if a baby in deep slumber..

One fine day..soon you might serve nature your bequest.. A creation..

Then you might know birth.. the tears of joy would stir you eyes..and your heart..

Death of thy friend is sad for footsteps are heard no more..

It made me stop in my trial.. leaves breathed no more.. only the sun flickered in my  eyes..

Memories in the wrinkled minds.. soft fragrance blows in the breeze..ruffles your feathered mind..

Your friend..Your brother…you sister..the hands you held.. and the sunshine..

The autumn leaves and the colors that ravished the fields.. fill your heart with the music of past joy…

Your heart with sweet smiles.. the moments you lived like a child..

To the beyond them might pass… and you might pass..

But the winds shall remember the brush of your smile as you ran and you lived like a child.

Categories: CHILDREN, INNOCENCE, life, living, poetry on life, poetry on love | Tags: , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Departing

Let those minute pulses that beat in your mind, even as the breath has been felt and lost,

Let those beats faint away into void; let the breaths die their natural death,

Tie not the noose with one hand and pump your heart with another,

Either your hold, slacken it and let the beats, the breaths heave in deep agony,

And find your mind gushing with blood and tears of yesterday’s war,

Or drop the other hand and string the noose to the bell,

Let it ring in the mind and dull the lights on the those darkened days, dusky nights, chain the gates

Its time, it’s time to depart from the world of those wishful sensations,

Memories and questions, and desires clutch your heart, yet let’s depart;

To cleanse the heart that drowns in the pool of purple poison,

Let the heart beat to slander those memories, and yet as much as I try, all is still,

Hands shake, fighting the wolf’s claws to drag you back to that desert, the bindings of being human,

Can you depart the deserted land; pass the mirage not quenching your thirst?

Heart believes, beauty is just beyond the blinding horizon,

Is beauty indeed found, is faith brought back by a touch of innocence or just a lash of scalding truth?

Can beauty and faith be found in horrendous truth?

Pain, betrayal, unrequited love, unparalleled atrocities, Or is the child’s tear the only sacred beauty?

Do the birds of war and love embrace to find peace?

Does the desert finally show its true treasures and horrors?

And peace remains as delusional as the belief in the moon’s promise of shimmer on the dark fortnight?

Do the eyes droop and breathing ease resting on the bosom of a mate?

Or do yours and mine-souls,

Do we finally depart with pain in our bones and mirages in our eyes and thirst on our cracked lips?

But departing is only a trapping, the truth only a fantasy,

We are prisoners in our infinitely deserted land,

And answers evade and delude sinking into the sand.

Categories: life, memories, poetry, poetry on love, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Designs by Time- A Maze

Time, It walks as though it hath not a care,

Aloof, dispassionately sauntering, sparing neither a thought for all the desolation, nor the euphoria

Existing all by itself, Thriving in its solitude,

Plotting to cast its well scripted plans onto the void, our world, our lives,

Manifesting illusions, one or multiple for its every click,

We mortals, just mere pawns while it attempts at injecting thrill into it’s veins,

“Oh you epitome of enigmatic existence, why not teach us to live like you?

Maybe it ain’t worth your creative talents, ”

 

A sharp edged hand of a clock, it’s partner in crime,

It plays its part quite beautifully, dexterously,

Digging into the soul’s flesh, Carving out a maze, a unique piece of art,

Maze keeps expanding infinitely in all directions and dimensions,

Invading and capturing the seemingly insurmountable highs and non echoing abyss,

You, my detached mate watch with me the intricately woven designs of your illusions,

Every passing moment absorb the musings of the soul winded in the maze,

Some elated hummings,  some whispers drowning in dread, some lost mutterings of a tipsy lass,

Every click of the clock and scratch of the edge masks the screams and flicks away the tears,

 

Stormy it is,A few marks fade, a few lines blur,

But the hand retraces the trial, else digs and drags crossing to make new paths,

A rendition of mine treads down the old known pathways,

Another struts along the anew one,

Peering ahead, trying to discern unexpected twists, turns and dead ends,

Or misleading ends blurred by fog, Its walls smudged and smeared with just paintings of landscapes beyond,

As though the landscapes are real pathways, not just delusional sights,

 

Inside the maze, one is bound to catch glimpses of oneself, maybe combat the other,

The pawn must face itself, loose itself to seek the truths that haunt and breeze through here,

Despite the unattainable pedestal of truth, the non-existent end one must trudge on if not gallop,

Indulge self in demolishing and resurrecting to find the same and demistify the secrets in here,

One must clutch on to the dagger like hand,

Engage thee, time, while savoring the derisive scars your designs impinge upon us,

While you mock us with your unaffected, disavowed  stature.

Categories: amibiguity, emotions, expressions, life, mindset, places, poetry, poetry on life, silence, society, soul, time | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Solace

Write about it? Why would I do that? You said yourself writing bought you solace. Yeah, well,Didn’t bring anybody else any solace. I wasn’t any good.
No one need ever read it, You could always burn it.
What would I write about? anything whatever brings you peace a memory, a thought, a place, Write it down.. a place?- The great Gatsby
I could write about anything as I see it, about eyes,about loneliness, strife born both within and without the sense of what is within ,about pain, love, loss, power and a myriad of emotions. I could write about the ocean of pain we wade through, float on, or i could write about flying above this pain. I could write about the beauty in all its forms. Yes I could write act of making love, of course, the moments when man, woman assume an existence, each in the most primal and beautiful form.

Unnamed 

The morning sun awakens from a reverie a world,                                                        

 A world asleep at the surface,                                                                                                  

 Yet alive at its core,

A core, a bosom that hides, that carries dreams, desires, hopes,                    

 Hopes that dance, meet their lovers,                                                                                  

  Feed that glaring emptiness with more hopes,

Hopes of a never yet felt fulfillment,

    A fulfillment that the soul ever craved for,                                                                     

 Sought it with a gusto unseen in another life form,

A fulfillment that ever remains unsatiated,                                                            

Take the unfathomable form of nightmares,                                                  

Our fears awaken dreary demons,

We see the demons within us reflected,                                                              

Reflected in the in the unearthly spirits ploughing our nights,        

                   

Yet the nights dark at the periphery,                                                                                    

 Are illustrated with colors and prophecies,                                                          

Picturesque images of lands yet untouched,                                                                

 Not encroached by the brightness of the day,

Grotesque redness of our fears,                                                                                          

keeps the adrenaline thumping in our veins,                                                                      

The sparks ignited by the fears have never been more compelling and honest,

Yet we, breathless mates fresh from the enticing night,                                                  

 We  find ourselves breathing safely in the light,                                                            

  Fearing our nights, retreating into blinding light are we?

Or are we mortals escaping on a escapade, exodus,

Eloping into a world opaque to the rising sun

Grasping the hand,

Making love with our eyes to our eternal,

Immortal true selves.

 

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I find solace now.

P.S- I was not sure about a name for the poem.

Categories: life, life, poetry, soul | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

My Book Of Dreams

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My book of dreams

I have one that is stowed beneath my pillows

Pillows of need and momentary salvations

Yet my subconscious sleeps on it every moment.

 

It is the one,

The one for which I breathe smoke, and dry air

In adamant desire of breathing in the scent of “the path”

A path decked with petals, monuments of hope and life,

 

The book, its existence is the reminder,

Reminder of my purpose,

This book when lost, Leaves me barren, void,

Stranded, only hanging on the hands of the clock, tick tock

 

I fear its loss,

I fear its burial in the grounds of rotten cowardice,

Air drenched with the stench of stale worthlessness

And pettiness of delusional grief

 

Frail pages, burnt at the corners,

Illegible scribbling and scratching, rewriting of my souls whisperings,

The writing in the book blurs, like it has now

The skepticism and powerlessness of a lost soul, dissolves the ink even more

 

Where can I find the quill?

The quill with the memory of all that is missing,

Quill endowed with the boon of inerasable ink,

Quill that breathes life into the minuscule scriptures,

 

Maybe it’s hidden in between the pages,

Or maybe it’s the key to an anew cave, where I could write on stone

Engrave it and let my soul fly in and out, feed on the fervor of the aromatic cave

Or maybe it’s right here in between my fingers, awaiting my orders.

 

P.S-I edited one of my doodles:)

P.S- And it just sort of happened to match today’s daily prompt-Fearless Fantasies.. so I am gonna to include a Ping back! 🙂

Categories: art, change, darkness, emotions, expressions, life, love oneself, me, mindset, poetry, poetry on life, soul, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Hope a phoneix

Horrendous stories :- I just came across it and well It drove me mad. Just penned down the poem in those moments.

Hope a Phoenix

Hope a phoenix

But how does it rise from the ashes?

How does it withstand the satanic vehement attacks on it?

How does one keep the ring of fire blowing and turning?

Twisting to start a new cycle,

As humanity sheds its skin,

As silent hapless tears run down those eyes?

Eyes that have now been castrated of their innocence,

As blood rots at our feet,

Staining the path to revival of hope

Blood drained by filthy demonic spirits that slither amongst us

And we know not of the world racing in their veins,

 Stewing vigorously, plotting its next quest for inhuman unanimalistic pleasure,

We have no spear to penetrate those blankets of camouflage,

Tides of pain choke the nerves, wrecking havoc, and stilling life

How does one send those cacodemons into nothingness?

Make them spit blood, and churn them in their world into ashes,

Before they could stew to bleed humanity again,

How does hope take form of a phoenix for those eyes?

How does one stop the ring of fire from extinguishing?

Extinguishing before the phoenix rises from the ashes,

And engulfing humanity in its serene cocoon.

Categories: emotions, expressions, kids, life, poetry, poetry on life, silence, society | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Garden Of hope

 

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I was thinking of birds, butterflies and flowers and smiles in the morning as I drew this. I felt hope and I felt my mind finally clearing as I drew this.

To me it looks like a bear or another animal, not invented by cloning or evolution yet, stretching his hand out to pluck something or to just reach out.

Do tell me what you see!

 

Categories: amibiguity, art, CRAZY ART, emotions, expressions, life, mindset | Tags: , , , , , | 4 Comments

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