lash me by your wind

Convergence Of The Four Winds by Michelle Vyn

be the wind of lost thought
seeking redemption of ideas

that burn

inside the hollow eyes,

have you ever thought of that pink scarf,
bleached, tattered, zooming through the sky
like a fake smile on your lips?

have you ever heeded the power of a blow
of air on the birthday candles, how it
erases the years lived?

be the wind that you can’t be,
be a smelly fart if need be,
be an ode to nature, or
a quatrain that seeks nothing.

do you know of the neck
that was adorned atop the light
house, where I stood, the wind:
my body, my sheath, my life,

and how it felt to be suspended
with nothing else to spare
but for a breath of air,
hair ruffled,
silences bespoken;

do you know that neck
belonged to me?

I died that second,
and I have been dying
thenceforth.

I am the wind, I am
the power,

and I am invariably caught
in this struggle.

.

Image source
Linking it up with Poets United Midweek Motif.

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Know

there are certain things immutable in life

like the perception, that gets ingrained

into the eyes of others, holding us

on judgement, at a sanctimonious stool,

.

finding meanings in our meaningless words,

and explanations of our inexplicable actions,

they say they know us, but they do not,

they just know what they come to accept

.

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I am linking it up with Friday Flash 55.

Writer’s Cookie

He was turning out to be the person he wished he would never become. He was terrified of the boredom he was experiencing daily. It was as if he had nothing to do.

“The last book, I wrote, was five years back,” he told his close friend.

It was never published. Truthfully, none of his books were ever published. He had written a few books, some of them he could never convince himself to send to the publishing houses and while the others he had sent were kindly rejected, though he didn’t know because he never got a reply and he forgot it all with time.

“It is alright. You have a few ideas in your mind, right?”

“Yes, I have but they mean nothing till the time I start working on them. They have to come to life to mean something,” he desperately put forward his agony.

“Then work on them.”

“I can’t. Whenever I turn on my laptop and open a word document to type out the words ready to pour out of my soul, I end up typing not even a single word.”

“Why is it so?”

“It is because I feel doubtful either about my ideas or about my capability of working over them.”
He sipped his tea but didn’t pick up the almond cookie, even though he wanted to and rather just looked at it with a morbid sincerity.

“You are no longer enjoying your writing, are you?”

“I haven’t been writing. So, how can I tell?”

“It is okay. Take some time. And may be then you can join a creative writing class.”

“I am old now and there would be kids there.” He finally moved his hand towards the cookie to pick it up; it had lured him into a desire to consume it.

But his young friend’s hand was swifter and she picked it up and gobbled it down and his hands remained in an awkward position. It was the last cookie.

Now I feel alive…

Bathed in the sea of thoughts

Feasted on a meal of ideas

Slept on the bed of hopes

Now I feel alive-

Charged to lead my life.

Are Memories any Good?

What are memories meant for? Why do they nurture within your being and then slowly consumes you, dragging you away from what is present and what will be the future?

I have always pondered about the significance or the side-effects of memories in life. I have always wondered whether the memories are good or bad. What I have always heard and read is that-

“Memories if memorized without any loathing for the present but just for recreating the memorable times you had, once you’re feeling bad is definitely good but when memories cover your decisions and your activities in the present, that is of course going to be terrible for you.”

Well, that is what I have known for so long but still, I don’t believe it- somehow, I think memories are going to restrict you, create a boundary which can’t be crossed, troubling you whenever you find a difficult situation- isn’t it so?

I have put much of my faith in memories quite a lot many times. I don’t know whether I was right in doing so or not but I know one thing- that phase had been the most difficult phase of my life. That doesn’t mean that faith of mine in memories has completely drowned, it still comes by marking the same difficult phase of life to bear for me.

Memories disturb me, though they were good once but are they bad now?

They- these memories make me perceive things in their most ideal way but when is life ideal? You can’t have everything in life in the way you want. If you had had good experiences in the past framing those good-old memories, that doesn’t mean that life is never going to get tough on you. I have experienced it in my personal life and hence, I write- for may be this wouldn’t help anyone but at least me(in such matters, I have already learnt that being selfish is the best way to be chosen because you are the one who matters the most to you), may be it won’t even help me but I would in any case know what I do feel(that is what I gain when I write).

Memories- they are those dried flowers which you have kept within your diaries as a sweet reminder of their blossom.

Isn’t it so? Well, I think it is. Memories, therefore, disturb me and for me, it is more of a side-effect to your emotional and mental well being rather than proving itself to be significant.

Well, what do I know? I don’t know anything. Still, I never forget to mention what I feel and that is what I have done right now.

You’re also allowed(requested) to mention what you feel. Tell me, Are memories any good?