To my confidante,
I whisper to her only.
Hush, my dear teddy.
Tag: poetry
The Good O’l Days
Oh, I miss those days,
when all that mattered
was the next class —
carrying a bulky book,
and caressing with a love
that none understood.
*
I miss that thrill —
of having the book open,
of reading a piece of prose —
or a poem — yes,
I’d like that — a poem.
*
A war poem, perhaps,
with a touch of sarcasm
and plenty pathos
oh, I’d love that; reading
analyzing, and discussing
the figures of speech and
reading between the lines —
decoding puzzling poetry.
*
I miss being awed
by the ceaseless Caesar,
and Brutus back stabbing;
the hair that be wires;
and the stunned disbelief
when love’s not love.
*
I miss those days —
of classroom revelations,
of shared appreciations
and new born respect —
oh, for god’s sake,
I meant for literature.
What Is The Point Of Writing?
I like to write when I’m not doing anything else. And by anything else, I mean, eating, sleeping, or watching food porn.
Since I spend quite a lot of time writing — what, you ask? Well, don’t. Anyway, what is the whole point of writing?
When you think of it, it’s nothing really.
Most people tell you the point of writing is “To share with the world — things you can’t show.” or “To educate people about something.” Better yet, “To share feelings.”
Thing is, you can do all those stuff, without writing. Why write when you can tell? We all like to speak, so why write it down? Nothing we ever write will stand for eternity — preservation ended with great literates, there are too many people who write nowadays — we can’t preserve them all forever.
Then why bother writing at all? What’s the point of spending time and energy — not to mention paper, ink, or screen time — if you’re one of those technology buffs — on something that’s seemingly pointless?
Everything we ever write — thoughts, opinions, comments, detailed explanations, stories, poems — everything you can think of, you can also speak and record. Besides, isn’t spoken word poetry already a thing? And audio books?
So why do we still write?
Not one of the countless reasons really explains the need to write.
It’s Thursday and you’re at work. You’re bored and flipping through a magazine, and you suddenly feel like you have to write. Like your fingers want something to do — other than flipping glossy pages of size zero models. There is a sudden not-so-gentle nudge that wants you to drop everything else and just write. You don’t know what to write, or how to write; there are too many thoughts in your mind. It’s almost noon; you’re feeling mildly hungry; you’re thinking of that holiday you so badly deserve; the project that needs some final touches; then again the Caribbean holiday with boozy sangrias — before you realize you’re a little short of cash, and then — from nowhere — comes the thought that the following day your salary gets credited — after all those taxes, of course. But in the middle of all these thoughts, is something, a little lightbulb, a spark of light, that tells you to sit and write.
And that’s why we write.
Giving Thanks… Or Something like That
I’ve been a little behind the times lately; I almost missed to accept the Versatile Blogger award. Ha, will happen never again!
It’s all thanks to Cel who nominated me for this award. Sorry, I didn’t do this sooner Cel, and I will take that challenge as well. Just give me some time ;)
So another award! I just realized how great it feels to be recognized as a part of the blogosphere; sometimes I can’t help but feel like just a negligible speck in such a vast space.
Anyhow, the rules:
- Thank the person who gave you this award – Yup, done that.
- Include a link to their blog – that too.
- Nominate 15 deserving bloggers you discovered recently for the Versatile Blogger Award — you might include a link to this site – 15, huh?
- Finally, tell the person who nominated you 7 things about yourself – get ready Cel!
Me:
- I love coffee, but I drink tea as much as coffee. That makes me a double addict!
- I almost always eat healthy – and often top it with a piece (or two) of chocolate.
- I don’t like pizza – I can take a piece or two, but certainly not more than that. And I’m not a fan of cheese either. Yes, you read right.
- I love road trips. And I hate having to reach a destination; I’d rather keep going.
- I so badly want to go on a solo trip, but my sense of direction is pathetic and sadly my parents know that.
- I just recently realized how much it hurts to hold a DSLR for long at a stretch.
- I love trekking.
So, there you have it! Hope it’s random enough.
I nominate:
- Catherine – Leaf and Twig – Have you ever felt like hitting that Like button a thousand times? That’s how I feel about Catherine’s work. It’s pity she’s disabled Likes. But I enjoy every post; she never ceases to thrill.
- Lucas – Through Open Lens – It’s always great to see the world through someone else’s point of view. And with someone like Lucas, you also get to enjoy a funny one-liner and an interesting fact. Classy!
- Meisaan – Curving toward the center – Home to some of the best haiku I’ve ever read! And she picks the greatest accompaniment photos!
- Quail – Butterfly Sand – A friendly voice in the neighborhood. From shady quips and daily quips to poetry and short stories, she’s like the fun aunt whose advice I’d really listen to.
- Sue – WordsVisual – Sue’s up to some great photography and poetry. That’s one killer of a combination; you wouldn’t want to miss that.
I’m a known rule-breaker, so there goes the ‘nominate 15 bloggers’ rule. I follow plenty of awesome bloggers – you know who you are, and you’re all awesome. Unfortunately, most of you don’t accept awards.
Anyway, it’s been great fun blogging with you guys. Stick around, and let’s keep sharing stories.
Have a great weekend y’all. Cheers.
A Man Like Us
The Unknown Citizen – W. H. Auden
He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a
saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn’t a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his
generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their
education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
I had to study this poem for an exam, and only then did I realize its beauty. I read through once, and it just struck me unlike anything else I’ve read recently.
It’s the life of an unknown citizen.
It’s the life a person not unlike you and I.
It’s my life.
And then it hit me. I could live a simple life, an unknown, insignificant life and die the same way.
It’s the nature of life. There’s not much I can do about it.
Not everyone becomes recognized. Not everyone’s good under the limelight. Most of us end up as unknown citizens.
It’s a little sad when you think of it that way.
Nevertheless, Abraham Lincoln offers some solace,
“God must love the common man. He made so many of them.”
Well, whether we end up unknown or super-famous, it never hurt to try.
The Chaos Within 