Tag Archives: writing

Writings on the wall


Years, I have spent years

Looking at the walls 

Of this tatterdemalion citadel 

Splattered with my innards 

And bleeding heart 

Years, I have seen just one colour, 

This indigo muck paint on my hands

And Papers on the wall 

Saying the same things,

Different words, 

In want of what?

Sympathy?

 Empathy ?

Attention?

Compassion?

Years , I have spent years, 

Almost seven,

Sitting at this table

Now my hands tremble

And it’s tempting to drop that pen

Never write, never feel, never think

And never spell a word again

The Reason

image

I wouldnt call myself a poet
I dont know if my words
have reached out to people yet
It hardly matters since I do not write for fame
Neither do I write for money
There is enough crisis
And people would rather pay for fun
And porn than catharsis
I wouldnt call myself a poet
My words dont always rhyme
Just like now
I write because I love to store memories in ink
As time goes by
Thoughts can be overwhelming at times
And at times run dry
I write to keep them fresh
As I watch the dense mist
Change colours with days
I write so I can always see
What I was and what I am going to be
I wouldnt call myself a poet today
But may be I can someday