Thursday, August 27, 2020
Tuesday, August 25, 2020
Monday, August 24, 2020
Sunday, August 23, 2020
Save Paper; Save Stress; Avoid Scandal
This year, I have made a rather strange and dramatic New Year Resolution. No diaries, this time and writing only on scrap paper and with the help of the PC. Regarding empty pages, I have plenty of them left in my other notebooks. So all I need to do is to start writing on whatever sheet of paper that comes handy.
My last year's resolution of writing a page a day was kind of stressing me out. Somehow, there were days when I found it impossible to sit down and write. Of course, there was a hectic, unhealthy and trivial life to lead. Moreover, the empty pages stare at me from the diary accusingly, for I have left no record nor memory of many of those passing days.
Finally, there is this habit of mine to pour out my true feelings and emotions on to paper. For me, that is my remedy for stress and tension and bottling up emotions. But it somehow backfires when I forget to lock my diary up and leaves it right in front of my family with whom I might have fought and wrote venomously. So no causing scandals this year.
Lovestory
You tell me this story of your beloved everyday,
Whom you want to tell your love in many ways;
I advise you like a sage of much experience
Without telling you anything of my story.
Who has not known, my dear, this agony,
Of unexpressed love that sank into silence,
Of a love that required more than poetry,
Mutual knowledge or entire life history.
For you and me wavered millions of times,
For you wanted to know me well enough,
Like the palm of your hand that I'd held,
While I took nothing seriously that time.
Whatever be the truth behind our silences,
It nudges you in the form of other new faces.
Whom you want to tell your love in many ways;
I advise you like a sage of much experience
Without telling you anything of my story.
Who has not known, my dear, this agony,
Of unexpressed love that sank into silence,
Of a love that required more than poetry,
Mutual knowledge or entire life history.
For you and me wavered millions of times,
For you wanted to know me well enough,
Like the palm of your hand that I'd held,
While I took nothing seriously that time.
Whatever be the truth behind our silences,
It nudges you in the form of other new faces.
Freefall
Taste that magical drop and dip and dive,
Once more in oceans of words and desire;
The nights of togetherness are back again
That were cast aside with passing time.
A few moments of all-forgetting banter,
Though the rains torrent along with storms,
Once again in the candlelight, love flickers,
Till its fire can brighten the darkened home.
With no power and no distractions of media,
With hours that drop into the slow hourglass,
With food bought on order from outside
And chores that can wait till the power supply-
A sudden power failure slows your weekend,
But brings big surprises like romance and fun.
Once more in oceans of words and desire;
The nights of togetherness are back again
That were cast aside with passing time.
A few moments of all-forgetting banter,
Though the rains torrent along with storms,
Once again in the candlelight, love flickers,
Till its fire can brighten the darkened home.
With no power and no distractions of media,
With hours that drop into the slow hourglass,
With food bought on order from outside
And chores that can wait till the power supply-
A sudden power failure slows your weekend,
But brings big surprises like romance and fun.
Counsel
Who knows when the eloquent falls in love
With your maddest saddest silences,
What strange contradictions arise,
When they want to listen to your words.
Still they listen baffled, tired, bored,
To endless conversations of pain,
While who knows their real motive,
Is it just to listen or gossip around?
With what gentle cues and many reasons,
Do they extract your wildest thoughts,
Along with your saddest experiences,
Just so they can know and be sure.
How can they know your silences,
If what they see is only sheer pain?
With your maddest saddest silences,
What strange contradictions arise,
When they want to listen to your words.
Still they listen baffled, tired, bored,
To endless conversations of pain,
While who knows their real motive,
Is it just to listen or gossip around?
With what gentle cues and many reasons,
Do they extract your wildest thoughts,
Along with your saddest experiences,
Just so they can know and be sure.
How can they know your silences,
If what they see is only sheer pain?
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