Throwing junk is a metaphoric experience for me ..Its always helped me to clear the junk in my life, to purge my mind and wake up fresh ..
So while I was clearing the junk in my cupboard , I came across two small pocket books.One of them was like a note pad where I used to jot down quotes,poetry ...what ever I liked from many book I read .
The other was my diary where I had penned my thoughts 12 years ago ...I was amazed at the relevance of those thoughts even today and also at my ability to write effortlessly though I wont say its great writing.Those were the days when I dreamt I will be a writer and a journalist and fancied my writing skills . Today I write , but there are just words and not much of feelings encased in them.
Since I am incapable of feeling, expressing and writing my current thoughts , I am going to post some excerpts from my diary
The first one is a poem written in January 7-8 1996, 2 am
Like withering flowers my eyes droop
I trace the caress of a finger.
Waking up in a strange land
A silent tune haunts me
My eyes are still asleep.
The world is painted in black and white
A green patch blinds me.
I roll along the blue waves
My mind flows and ebbs;
I camouflage into many hues
I dont know what I am dreaming.
One disjointed image forms my life
And yet, Life is still a dream
I ask myself a question
Am I dreaming life ?
Thoughts drain my mind
Wordless emotions clog it.
I ask myself a question
Is my life wrapped in blankets ?
My body is in a cradle
My feelings are rocking it ..
I pace across the room and think
Yesterday didnt exist
Tomorrow never comes.
My mind begins to ebb
Life gently sleeps...
I'm just a mindless corpse
Who forgot how to think.
I ask myself a question
Am I asleep or awake ?
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Between her and me ...moods and bouts of writing
4 comments:
Its funny how people are basically alike. I used to keep diaries until my pesky bro made it a habit to read them. But when I look back at somethings I had written, I marvel at how well and evocatively I wrote out my thoughts. I feel more constricted now. I don't know why
Your poems are beautiful.. and ideas which often cross my mind too
Thanks smita.I think all of us deep down are very similar because the basic emotions remain the same .
The thoughts were expressed beautifully in the poem, though I found the theme scary. Scary because it makes me think about life and the possible 'deeper' meaning..
True Rusty neurons ..if we think deep, its always a bit scary,but sometimes its very good to introspect and take stock
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