Inspired by Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot and Peter Weir’s Dead Poets’ Society.. Dedicated to the monotony of post-modern existence and the existentialist quest for life More significantly, dedicated to the love for poetry and expression of free speech We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race -John Keating Act […]
Reminiscences of a timeless bond Strained with time Bundle of entangled emotions Unknot the ties or breathe in through the knots? Find solace or continue craving? Broken narratives Discoloured images Time’s vicious assault The deception called memory The colossal loss Acceptance of the given or give in to the accepted? Build castles or burn them?
She is gone forever It seems She was here earlier Had always been Without a sign Without a sound Gone Just Gone Whatever happened? Is that why she didn’t stir for days Could she be ill Distressed Depressed Why not? Another had been here They had fought for space She had resumed her place What
Where do you find that depth from? Is it the intensity of your gaze Or the curiosity of your soul Is it the intricacy of your voice Or the plurality of your emotions Is it the ecstasy of your expression Or the brevity of your conclusion Is it the suggestion of your eye Or the
Let go The desire to be desired The need to be needed The want to be wanted The sweet nothings of yesterday The widening gulf of today The fragile hope of tomorrow The faint promise of forever The diminishing strength of the unsaid The ephemeral bond of silence Bondage? The mirage called freedom When expectations
The times… When last seen creates more complexities than when they saw them last When innumerable expression tags are misappropriated to convey what they do not feel When threads of words remain inadequate to convey what they wish to say When one post resurrects confidence and another dismantles it When a picture construes an image
Another thought another time There, lost. Entangled. This moment this request Here, a theme. Write. Wondering how thought gets into words If what i wish to hide gets revealed If what i am thinking is what they read Scrabble of words or scramble for words
Chequered with possibilities Waiting for combinations Your turn Words disappearing into distributaries Intersect with expectations Your turn Burdened with another’s interpretations Accessible to everyone Your turn Spiralling and meandering Looking for spaces and gone with the turn What did we begin with.. into what did it turn
To the one who brought me into this world And told me that pain was life but endurance strength. To the one whose fractured stories became a coherent narrative And made a child’s world meaningful. To the one who grew with me And induced in me a fighting spirit. To the childhood friend who listened
She… Looks at my tears Listens to my incoherence Never stirs Is terrifyingly patient Has seen me grow over the years Waking sleeping fighting laughing writing curling undressing Without flinching Is unbelievably uncouth There are no boundaries ..lives with me There are no responsibilities ..loves independence We have individual spaces ..respects differences I see her
