Skip to main content

Lost in (Lost) Words

A blur of voices:
rising, ebbing, flowing
through a constricted channel
of ever-evasive peace.
Swerving, twisting and turning
till a whale of
volatile emotions appear
only to vanish in another
whimsical, caustic moment.
Curving and bending
through an intricate maze
of lost memories,
distorted situations, places…
Warped through time,
shaken about the globe,
fractured by silence,
dispersed in the noise.

Somewhere, somehow, the
meaning is lost and
the recognition vanishes…

Comments

Casablanca said…
Came here through .:A:.'s blog, and really liked this piece.. especially the last sentence.
. : A : . said…
Lost in words and lost in thoughts. Lovely.
Abhishek said…
nice blog..........too good

Popular posts from this blog

The Final Tide

Years later, when these tears have dried with the mist will you even recognise the pain that's floated down the years? Years later, when we walk beneath teary-eyed skies, will you spare a moment and laugh at how dry my eyes look? Years later, when all my love has turned to loss Will you turn to me and whisper that all that anger was love? Follow @diaporesis

Just Words

I am just words. The ones that used to drift in through the windows of your dreams on starless nights. The ones you once danced with in the mango-stained monsoons. The ones in which you first saw my face. Destined to be loved. And hated. I am the same words. The music for which is lost in a maze that's lost in memories of pain. The taste for which you lost because they wanted to fill your hours forever. The ink for which you spilt because the colour never changed. I am still just words. Replaceable, and replaced by the dictionaries whose covers promised more. Beaten and battered by the pens and matches you used to erase me. Hollow and unfeeling. Ever yours. Never yours. Yet feeling hollow and unfeeling. I am the words you erased Before you read me. Follow @diaporesis

This World...

This is the first (serious) poem I ever wrote, when I was about thirteen years old Under the greenwood tree I stand , I stand and stare into the darkness that overpowers and envelops itself around me. All is calm , Yet not peaceful… I cry out for release, mercy. But answer there is none. I relapse into dreams… Pleasant and peaceful times, these. The meadows are green, The Bird and the Leaf do sit on the branch. But an evil wind is blowing: Terror, Panic, blood everywhere Will there be no end? Light, at last! The meadows are green once more, The birds sing, the wind does blow. But I sleep on; never to wake From eternal slumber.