O' Stranger

I haven't seen you
I haven't met you
I haven't talked to you, ever
Should we go ahead
And fall in love?
O' Stranger

Debt of Love

Sweet debt of Love -

Each night it makes me rich
Bankrupt, the next morning

You

To write or not to write...

"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words all being there, written in invisible ink and clamouring to become visible."

Writing is a process that institutionalizes your broken thoughts into complete ideas. It gives life a meaning that prevents burnout, boredom and other sorts of cimmerian darkness. Moreover, it's good for you! It builds healthy self-esteem which automatically enhances your confidence in all other areas. Writing is a 'characteristic' movement from fear to confidence, from difficult to easy, from incompetence to competence. There is a reason why legends had advised to maintain a personal diary. Writing activates the second tool of comprehension; reading being the first.

Yes, Writing makes me happy. I don't know why but sometimes I feel I should chronicle each and every events of the day; words and pictures keep shooting in my head. When I read my old blogposts, Facebook statuses or tweets, I feel proud and good about myself.

Have a problem? Write it down. You will come up with a better solution. Have a crush on someone? Write about that person. You will be able to express better (and may become a chic magnet) A good sonnet becomes an extraction of intense feeling from the ore of emotions (try poetic flirting). You will possess the art of persuasion with delicacy.

It will help you to clarify thoughts about love and life, about right and wrong. Writing is directly proportional to thinking. The better you write, the better you observe. The better you observe, the better you think.

Penumbra

Her voice echoes
In the empty chambers of my heart
Whose walls once cemented with love
Beaten, black and blue

The abuse of silence
The equation unbalanced
Everynight is a fight
Between you and your memories

The attack of desultory thoughts
Mixed in anger and regret
In the reflection of dying fire
Refuses to die

Every drop of pain, moving
In search of palliation..like
A raindrop on a glass window, moving
In search of elysian happiness

Oh the ostentatious laughter
Oh the misery of acutest kind
Oh the pretentious smile
Oh the impatient longing

Numbness..

She scuffled past the queuing throngs
Amidst the hollering of music and gongs
Her eyes were hypnotic and intense
I traded my sleep with thoughts so dense

She had oodles of elegance and grace
With seraphic smile on her face
Wingless angel in shape of a girl
Her thoughts made my mind whirl

Sculpted in kitchen of beauty
Grinded in mixer of alacrity
Epitome of serenity
Venerate you like a deity

In a white salwar, black embroidered, suit
She had a feminine White Big Cat root
Walked straight and proud
Yawning at unworthy tribes opening her mouth

In the kaleidoscope of universe
Her name was only which I could rehearse
Her exotic presence sparkled the room
Like The Taj Mahal twinkling on a full moon

Rain of punishing blows
River of pain flows
Oh the unbearable ocean of spikes
Lord, how much her I like