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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


Friday, February 12, 2010

Vanity: You are no Fairytale

The Debut: The hearts you place in your eyes are deceivingly sublime. Stop those claws from the pearl of your skin. Take instead the bite of your lips to make accounts of the smiles you receive (ignore the pity). Wear it like badges upon your chest, but on your wrist. The Silent Ball: The pallor of your skin is not envied, Belle. The horrors of your nights are not hidden, and yet not horrifying. The whispers that ring your bells and shake your tea cups isn't gossiping Jealous, and the white room isn't encased in rose thorns (bending in coquette curiosity). The Fall of the Midnight Hour: Hence to your image in the ripples of the lake, and just as humble humility comes - it comes too late. The rose petals have fallen and the frozen pool has stolen your image. Hiding it in copious dew. --- Hello Everyone. This isn't a poem. And probably doesn't make sense to a lot. It just, wove out you could say as I wrote on a page: I have nothing to write...it began writing itself. So, much love. I remember you all, so come out of the shell to say hello. -Rachel
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6 comments:

  1. FareedFebruary 13, 2010 at 3:42 AM

    It came so native to me, like my own words. A situation not so native on its own. Needless to tell you, how it awakened the dormant ghosts in my head and vanity.

    ReplyDelete
  2. RachelFebruary 13, 2010 at 4:02 PM

    Happy to have assisted you.
    Nice to hear from you. =]

    ReplyDelete
  3. The Wandering Philosopher.February 16, 2010 at 12:52 AM

    its an aria. and it was like wine. got better as it went on.
    coherent but still chaotic. it is like describing a state of being across a moment of time.

    ReplyDelete
  4. RachelFebruary 17, 2010 at 3:10 PM

    Thank you. Means a lot.

    ReplyDelete
  5. RainchildMarch 30, 2010 at 10:12 AM

    I really thought it was fareed in bits.
    Nice to see you Rachel.
    How are you?

    ReplyDelete
  6. RachelMay 8, 2010 at 2:48 PM

    I'm good, most days. Some days worse, but this is the good loop I think.

    It is isn't it a bit like him? Must have been channeling my inner Narcissism. =]

    ReplyDelete

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