Welcome

Say a few words. ~ Rachel

A search for happiness is nothing but finding a home in a hearts of few so safe..that you cant help but keep trying to stay in. Hope yall still want in.
~Shraddha

In a while,looking at a few old words you wrote once,
some being those, which makes you wonder how you wrote it,
unless you got that ardour , that small drug you were addicted with,that small shelter, that old family. Makes you silent.

In a while, now writing a few words. And that exhilation to share it,ain't the same. And you think about the old time.
Makes you silent again.
~ Manisha.

One day when I get superpowers (ahem), I'd ask you to hold my hands and I would make you see what I see. Feel, How I feel. I would want to have you look at the world, the stars, the moon, the ocean, the way I see them. And in that maelstrom of visions I would get to see the world in your image. Experience this sanctum through your eyes. And then when I write, that would be my greatest work ever. Because It would have been written by all of us and none of us. But I don't have superpowers, so lets make this place, the sanctum in my dream.
~Sharad


Tuesday, September 20, 2011

In Rememberance of those Poetic things

Remember this as the world crashes down. There was a falling building inside that raindrop. The streets engulfed in flames are behind this wall of rainfall. I can feel it; even if it isn’t real.
Remember these lips. They press against yours softly as I curl my body against yours hidden within the sheets. These sheets are my modesty. They hide my scars. The scars you lightly trace with your hands. No pity – just those soft hands. Sometimes when I can escape the madness in my head and the roars of all the noises and voices I can just feel those hands lightly tracing. Most times I can’t. I relish the moments I can; like now.
Remember the song we sang together, the first and probably the only song we will sing together. We both are horrible singers. We just happen to both know the lyrics as it was on the radio that cloudy day on the ride home. That really was an ugly day.
I’m feeling numb and I know I’m dying in a slightly accelerated rate than I had originally intended. I don’t mind.
Dying helps me remember this

Posted by at
Labels:

5 comments:

  1. RainchildSeptember 23, 2011 at 12:17 PM

    And the magic that you weave, you once speculated lost..can never be truly, I knew I could always believe. And now I can feel it..its like a beautiful dream the first para..and it activates almost every sense..like I were living it and breathing ...and that I guess is always the biggest challenge of them all...to get someone to spend their life in your poem or in prose. And I did spend a section of it feeling like I was just watching you. And it was beautiful.
    I like the first para and last line the most. In all love it. ~Shraddha

    ReplyDelete
  2. RachelSeptember 26, 2011 at 1:44 PM

    You're my favourite always.
    You understand.

    ReplyDelete
  3. The Wandering Philosopher.December 13, 2011 at 12:11 PM

    I...no....nope.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Eternally SereneDecember 14, 2011 at 12:38 AM

    Remember this as the world crashes down.
    There was a falling building inside that raindrop. The streets engulfed in flames are behind this wall of rainfall. I can feel it; even if it isn’t real.

    The above part was too good.. After this it kinda fell apart, after that for some reason though the theme was good the words kinda let them down..

    ReplyDelete
  5. GPAPFebruary 1, 2012 at 6:29 PM

    Hahaha, well typical Sharad.

    Cause it went wayward and cute and fuzzy. I lost track of the destruction because I really try to stay away from it.
    I know I am too easily consumed.

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Search This Blog