Not feeling this life… I look forlorn sometimes

What if the reverse happens!? Would that also be reversed!?

sometimes I lose the feeling of how it is to feel,

yanking my broken train reverse to scenes I’ve seen,

in an another time when life was not this and that,

it was not me who stepped through the threshold

(I wonder if it is me today when I step these footsteps),

possessed by a palindrome of words, they ricochet,

into webs of oil I leak down my brow into the eyes,

.

I was a boy, or was it that I was ever one in my eyes,

if truth lies every time, where trust shall put my mind,

to stay aground, no more falling into smoke holes,

that only go deep, and up, but never in my reach,

and now that I wobble at the precipice, of change

in the meaning I felt caricatured in me, I have but

to worry of life, if life was ever mine, or just a ruse,

.

 not has it come out to be mine today, still a ruse,

only thing different comes to where my faith resides,

no longer entangled in fates, but in neurons of time,

for I have lost the feel, I’d have but to feel a new feel

.

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Sightless eyes

An Illustration by W.T. Benda

my expression of disinterest

lined in my eyes entranced,

and agonized by furtive faces,

to express a wonder, at how

they hide the mayhem within,

I, on the other hand, I whip

out wicked words, that have me

blinded to see sun shine black,

in an eternal realm of lips that

smile back and forth toothy grins,

 .

I can’t unsee those gay noses,

erect in a prideful posture,

nor those tight eyebrows

chiding me for my quandary,

I am blind to see gangrene

of my skin that sheds in peels,

burnt up whole, heaving fumes,

only making each glow golden,

in the periphery of vision, of

my sightless eyes, that only can see

.

For Imaginary Garden With Real Toads Fireblossom Friday Prompt. I will be here and there but I would find my way to your blog to read your wise words.

.

I have been quite inactive lately. The thing is that my exams are approaching and I was devoting the month of February towards my studies. I was doing alright but these last three days haven’t been much productive. My mind started playing games with me and well, I lost. As for writing, I am quite deserted of the words. Tension and unusual stress and even carelessness sometimes intrude my conscious to keep me from paying attention to time and make me just float in the frothy oceans of seconds.

I am not going to be around much… though, I can not be sure of anything. I gave myself a free day today so that I could get back to concentrating on what is more important from tomorrow onward. I have more or less two weeks left to do what I can do. And now that statement has quite disturbed me. I am quite a peculiar being, you might say.

Well… on a good note, I uploaded a poem(I had written in November) on you tube. I just made slides of written word on one single background and made a video of it. I know that that is absurd, but I felt like doing so:

Finding Peace

Peace is a word, often associated with silence and meditation. I guess, one can find peace anywhere… if one is meant to find it. One will find it eventually… if one is destined to find it.

I didn’t want to venture into the political and social dimensions of this word. Hence, I chose to do it, thinking of what peace may mean for an individual on a personal level.

peace is when you feel at ease,

within your skin, in your own body,

peace is when, you close your eyes,

and exhale out all your worries,

peace is when, you hold your love,

against the cold, of the winter nights,

peace is when, you hear the song,

of crickets, in the otherwise silent air,

peace is when, you could sleep,

without the occurrence, of nightmares,

peace is when, you see a flower,

and analyze, the vibrancy of its colors,

peace is when, someone thanks you,

for you have been good to them,

peace is when, you genuinely smile,

without a care, of those glaring eyes,

peace is when, you greet a friend,

even though, you have quarreled,

peace is when, you invoke your soul,

to shed away, the weights it carry,

peace is when, you cook a stew or curry,

and its aroma wafts, into your nostrils,

peace is when … whenever

you feel at peace

 .

peace is when, I look into the mirror,

without sneering, at my own reflection,

peace is when, I could do something,

get a feel of activity, in these stationary days,

peace is when, I get to go outside,

and breathe the same air, as others,

peace is when, I find a song, long lost,

with the voice of which, I adjoin my voice,

peace is when, I realize something,

a solution, though temporary, but there,

peace is when, I receive a message,

from some one across the ocean,

peace is when, that some one asks me,

how I am, even though we have never met,

peace is when I find a piece of art,

beckoning me, to gape at it,

peace is when, I solve a puzzle,

for I see myself, in a positive light,

peace is when, I read someone’s writing,

and get caught into, the web of those words,

peace is when, I type a few letters and commas,

dissolving my entirety into them,

peace is when… whenever I

forget about this life

.

I wish, a piece of peace, for me

and some more for you

.

Image source

I am linking it up with the Dungeon Prompts: Peace. Also linking it with Imaginary Garden’s Open Link Monday, with a theme of peace.

Changing the tone of the poem – Two different poems

Lifeless… yet there

I want to be made, just a memory,

not concrete, just something abstract,

a play of the mind, real or unreal,

a question to be answered, but never been,

.

I want to be made, just a picture,

body-less, with nothing, to key the clogs

of a futile mind, left unacknowledged,

but for my colours grimacing at you,

.

I would want to be, just a single word,

you would sometimes, recite in your sleep,

having no soul, no truth, no reality to cope with,

defined by those letters, stringed together,

.

I would want to be a ripple on the pond,

in which you can see, your own distortion,

ignoring the worthlessness of me, the me

being left whirling around, in concentric circles,

.

I would want to be, the blow of air,

that comes by, to kiss your cheeks,

and you take it in, not having seen me,

being I am nothing but gas and vapour,

.

I would want to be, a single grain of soil,

undistinguishable, among many others,

of the same size, colour, and shape,

broken up into a minute existence,

.

I would want, to be the dew drop,

of your red eyes, unnoticed, sneaking,

surviving in your pain, I am lost

when you wipe me away, to oblivion,

.

I would want to be a thing with no life,

for life has betrayed me, much and I shall

rest, as that memory, sand grain, blow of air,

or eye pearl, ripple, picture or just a mere word

.

Image source

.

I wish I could… be with you somehow

I wish I could, just be a memory,

not concrete, just something abstract,

coming to make you giggle, when

life seems hard, and you need a good laugh,

.

I wish I could, just be a picture,

body-less, which you could keep,

in your closet, to sneak a look, in

the dead of night, with a nostalgic smile,

.

I wish I could, just be a single word,

you would sometimes recite, in your sleep,

no obligations, but a desire etched,

in those letters stringed together,

.

I wish I could, just be a ripple, on the pond,

reflecting all that, what you want to see,

through your own eyes, you can find,

your truth whirling around, in concentric circles,

.

I wish I could, just be a blow of air,

that comes by, to kiss your cheeks,

and you take it in, not having seen me,

an acceptance, of something pure and free,

.

I wish I could, just be a single grain, of soil,

unrecognizable, among many others,

becoming the ground, you pass by,

wishing you may feel, the feel of me,

.

I wish I could, just be a dew drop,

of your red eyes, unnoticed sneaking,

taking away your pain, as you wipe me away,

or I drip down to oblivion, and you feel safe,

.

I wish I could, just be an inconsequential thing,

so that I can, see you live, through my sorrows,

become that memory, sand grain, blow of air,

or eye pearl, ripple, picture or just a mere word

.

Image source

.

I wrote a poem(the earlier one) and it has a depressing tone to it, if you have noticed. Then, I thought of playing with it and I converted it into a romantic one(the latter one), with certain changes in the words and the tone of it. I guess, my poetic style has remained the same in both of them. The change has just come in its tone.

How important is the tone of the poem? How is it influenced? What do you think?

.

Blue Thing

The blue expanse up above

so wide, beneath which

all our lives astray

no path, just a foggy trance

 

confusion, delusion, askance

this life does nothing but betray

teach us all the lies, this bitch

of feelings, of emotions, of love

 

there is nothing but that blue thing

under which we all suffer and sing.

 

P.s.- Another one written just like Red Lust and Violet Juice. You can suggest the name for this particular poetic form, the rules of which are- (i) Three stanzas, rhyming scheme being- ABCD/DCBA/EE, (ii) Description of some strong emotion and (iii) Prominence of a color. And it would mean a lot to me if you would also write such a poem. Don’t forget to tell me about it.