Reflections of a restless eccentric

I look out the window. Trees zoom past me. Now and then, I see a little civilization. This is why I love this route--it's deserted for the most part. In this isolation, I thrive.  I've traveled this way in winter, summer and monsoon. In August, I sat in this same place while it rained. I've never more loved being drenched. For it seemed like my soul was parched with thirst.In December, the cold air bit into my skin till my hands turned numb. I've never felt more alive.The heart warming cold. Now it's April and the warm sunshine falls on me. It's the  mellow sun--not burning hot, but just right. It seems to be smiling at me. This is probably what they call resonance with nature. I'm one with it.  The places keep changing. I keep looking. Lost in the mellifluous music that's playing in my ears.If you keep playing a particular set of songs through thick and thin, then they will evoke emotions that go deep. The associations fade away, but you can...

We sit in the lab on yet another ordinary day,slogging away to meet another deadline while everyone else is lost in the college's sports fest.After what was a reasonably good meal,all of us are in the post-prandial snooze mode.As is our way,we play music on the days when the lab is almost empty.Today is one of those days.My friends have a wide music vocabulary ranging from regional to english.I usually just listen,having no idea of what the song is. Today,they ask me to listen to this song with the video telling me that it's worth watching. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdcAN3dobz4 The song speaks of a father's love for his daughter.And just like that,in a moment,I'm transported to my own memories.Of my childhood.Of a time when my world comprised of just my parents.The visuals are bittersweet,for I realise that I can never go back to those days.But they're also infinitely precious for I would never trade them for anything. No matter how old I grow,or how s...

My apologies to every poet out there.I'm not doing justice to this.A poem needs polishing--like a gemstone,its beauty emerges only with a great degree of effort.A lot of thought goes into a poem.The number of syllables in every line,the sound of the words,the powerful imagery all contribute to what a poem is.While prose is merely an outburst of thoughts,poetry is perfection that's born of flawless writing and emotion.Poetry is almost always centered around the reader--and therefore it's only a good poem if it evokes extreme emotion in the reader.Poetry is never about restating the obvious--it's about taking something completely ordinary and giving a take on it that makes it so extraordinary that you wonder why you never saw it that way. Since I'm currently incapable of all this and spending five minutes a day writing some trash that's a disgrace to poetry isn't my thing,this shall be my last poem,till I see fit to write another.When I have the time,ener...

I found myself walking Through a forest so dark and deep That even light was petrified to enter I would 've turned back in a moment  But for a will'-o-the-wisp that caught my eye  Blue and mysterious,it seemed to light up my way  Fear gave way to curiosity and something more cheerful  I followed one blue beacon till it led me to the next I know not if they will lead me to a place of no return Or to a land that's untouched by anything living But all life is fraught with uncertainty And so we follow our Will-o'-the-wisps and call them Hope. P.S:A will-o'-the-wisp,unlike what I've portrayed here, is usually taken to be something negative.It has quite a dreary etymology--it's associated with misleading people and luring them into marshes and what not.But what's poetry without imagination?:D I see it as something magical and cheerful and so I endeavor to make my reader look at it the same way!:)

I can't find time to do a proper poem everyday--life,I blame you:P I'm thinking of writing short ones:a quatrain or two,in the worst case maybe even a couplet.:) Peals of thunder echoed Amidst the pitter-patter of raindrops It seemed like a scene from a picturesque dream Till I woke up to the scent of petrichor. Magical are the first showers in summer For the earth hungers passionately for water And the sky grants it like an indulgent parent All creation exults in this miracle we call rain.

Past me floated a bubble Its myriad colors a vision to my eye I watched enchanted as it soared past me So much so that I followed it on a whim It made its merry way through the air Its lightness echoed in my very soul A gale rose out of nowhere Ne'er have I been more terrified of the wind Yet,the bubble flew high Taking with it my spirits A million glorious colors on its surface Each moment a blissful dream My world ceased to exist--for this was my world My gravest folly to forget that it too would shatter One moment a wonder and the next a void Where once there were colors there's now a vacuum It all feels like a dream now Sepia tinted emotions that vaguely haunt me All ephemeral--happiness,sadness and everything in between The perfect metaphor to life--a bubble. P.S:Ah,I give up! I cannot write happy poetry.Sad definitely.Not sad,maybe.Happy,doomed.:P

All my attempts at poetry end up being oh-so-melancholy for reasons I can't fathom! Here's hoping to write something cheerful:) Exhausted and weary I reach home and open the door Not wanting to contemplate Another dreary day My phone and laptop Are but distractions While they keep away my demons I wish for something less ephemeral Perhaps heaven heard me sigh And directed my gaze hither A book--as worn and weary as me Yet my eyes look no farther:my treasure is here! I touch it with reverence For it holds the soul of someone Soothing are the dog-eared corners to my feverish fingers  Enchanting is the perfume that emanates from within I open it to find a note from decades ago One mortal who bequeathed this to another There's something magical about knowing You hold something that's touched many people For a race that struggles to find immortality The answer's not in potions and vials But in our very own minds-...