I sit around
Trying to work things out
Fitting together
The jigsaw pieces of life
The world spinning round and round
It takes inspiration
To reach a worthy destination
Not just too much preparation
Or unending perspiration
Dealing with a wordly fascination
With acceptance and inhibition
Procrastination fit for an entire generation
And that's a pretty lethal combination.
What inspires me the most
It could be the pitter-patter of precipitation
Or the bustling life, the moving colours
Or a railway station.
It takes inspiration
To create poetry in motion
Writing fiction with conviction
Silly superstitions
The same pen, paper and imagination.
29 August 2009
27 August 2009
IndiBlogger Nomination and Other Stuff
Ten years in this school and I finally get something published in the Gallop, that's the school magazine, by the way. Though I didn't want it to happen, it did. And that too.. I won for writing a poem which I didn't even consider worth looking at. It was fun writing.. but not so fun when you read it. I'll post it on here soon.. and it's not so much a poem as something written by a rap artist or a songwriter.. not as poetic as I usually go for. But writing on 'Inspiration' in a set time of 40 minutes isn't my idea of creative freedom. But what the hey :D
So, I've nominated my blog for the IndiBlogger of the Month competition. So I guess you could vote for it if you feel like. I blog this just for the record. And NOT for votes. But I would really like it if I lose by a small margin. I don't have a chance winning, so as well lose with a little flair.
http://www.indiblogger.in/nominations.php?id=4
People who aren't on IndiBlogger yet could sign up. It's an interesting place to spend your time in. Thanks a bunch if you vote, and thanks again if you don't. I'll know I have to get better at this and improve. I already know that but little reminders go a long way.
So, I've nominated my blog for the IndiBlogger of the Month competition. So I guess you could vote for it if you feel like. I blog this just for the record. And NOT for votes. But I would really like it if I lose by a small margin. I don't have a chance winning, so as well lose with a little flair.
http://www.indiblogger.in/nominations.php?id=4
People who aren't on IndiBlogger yet could sign up. It's an interesting place to spend your time in. Thanks a bunch if you vote, and thanks again if you don't. I'll know I have to get better at this and improve. I already know that but little reminders go a long way.
22 August 2009
Nostalgia's a funny thing. It's always in this sepia-coloured faded sort of background, the landscape of the days and the years. Old and faded, folded around the corners, crumpled in places ..
It's like a song which keeps playing in your head. On the loop. Never stopping.
What with all the old, smiling, wise faces, the part which I know as well as the back of my hand. And sometimes I'm scared of a bright, shiny new character popping up on the screen in my head. Which really doesn't belong there.
But something brighter and new keeps coming up. And like a naive, innocent, stupid child I stare into it instead of shielding my eyes like one ought to. It hurts.
Untried, unstested. New and alien. It's like a blotch, overpowering the comforting smell of nostalgia, keeping you awake like a bad dream does. Only except you don't know if it's good or bad.
It thrills and leaves you wishing it were true. When you look back and see that you've got all that you need.. it comes snapping back at you.. whispering your own words in your ear. And sometimes you revel in the glory and sometimes you back away from it.
Shut your mind to it. And try to hum the song that always played in your head. But there's a new song now. A new feeling. A new meaning. It's like ecstacy.
But most of the time, it hurts. It hurts because you know you aren't supposed to do it. Time has made you wise, almost like the wise faces in your old photograph. But you are not them. And you wish "time" had been different.
That you could still be the naive innocent, stupid child that stares into the brightness, and lets it engulf her being. Burn her to the core. But now she's shielded, she's strong, she can no long do anything wrong.. because she knows.
The present's a void I'm not pressed to fill in. It exists like an empty room. Unwanted. Un-needed. It's like an extension of the past, a few metres behind the starting line, the past's like the starting credit of a movie, and the future's the beginning of the end credits.. I picture the first line in white against black as they start rolling in.
And the movie could be a tragedy, a comedy, drama.. or a genre that hasn't even been invented yet. I just hope I can figure it out well before the end.
It takes you on a ride.. smashed you up in a freak accident. And then pushes on as if nothing ever happened. It's like a circle that has no end. It's like thar bright red dot on a sepia background.
The only downside to my condition is that there's not much to write without a perspective. Confusion does nothing. I don't do anything. I'm stuck. And it's just there.
It's like a song which keeps playing in your head. On the loop. Never stopping.
What with all the old, smiling, wise faces, the part which I know as well as the back of my hand. And sometimes I'm scared of a bright, shiny new character popping up on the screen in my head. Which really doesn't belong there.
But something brighter and new keeps coming up. And like a naive, innocent, stupid child I stare into it instead of shielding my eyes like one ought to. It hurts.
Untried, unstested. New and alien. It's like a blotch, overpowering the comforting smell of nostalgia, keeping you awake like a bad dream does. Only except you don't know if it's good or bad.
It thrills and leaves you wishing it were true. When you look back and see that you've got all that you need.. it comes snapping back at you.. whispering your own words in your ear. And sometimes you revel in the glory and sometimes you back away from it.
Shut your mind to it. And try to hum the song that always played in your head. But there's a new song now. A new feeling. A new meaning. It's like ecstacy.
But most of the time, it hurts. It hurts because you know you aren't supposed to do it. Time has made you wise, almost like the wise faces in your old photograph. But you are not them. And you wish "time" had been different.
That you could still be the naive innocent, stupid child that stares into the brightness, and lets it engulf her being. Burn her to the core. But now she's shielded, she's strong, she can no long do anything wrong.. because she knows.
The present's a void I'm not pressed to fill in. It exists like an empty room. Unwanted. Un-needed. It's like an extension of the past, a few metres behind the starting line, the past's like the starting credit of a movie, and the future's the beginning of the end credits.. I picture the first line in white against black as they start rolling in.
And the movie could be a tragedy, a comedy, drama.. or a genre that hasn't even been invented yet. I just hope I can figure it out well before the end.
It takes you on a ride.. smashed you up in a freak accident. And then pushes on as if nothing ever happened. It's like a circle that has no end. It's like thar bright red dot on a sepia background.
The only downside to my condition is that there's not much to write without a perspective. Confusion does nothing. I don't do anything. I'm stuck. And it's just there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)