Wednesday, 13 February 2008

The Second Hand

Traveling its preordained path, 
It brings closer that which I fear.
Its apathy causes indignation,
Pleas of mercy affect it not.
Traversing its perfect path
Being its only objective;
Misery, its primary incentive.
On reaching its destination,
It unveils the secrets of its land;
Casting loose either
Insidious sorrow or Utopian joy.
I now await to see
Which course the elusive shall take.


Monday, 11 February 2008


[SCENE: Me having an astonishingly intelligent conversation with a good looking guy (further referred to as Sisyphus).
I borrow his pen to write something down. Then I, for some inexplicable reason, fall into a trance and stare at the pen which reminds me of an incident (trivial) which took place when i was ten.]

Sisyphus: [curiously] What you doing?
Me: [snaps out of it] Oh! nothing (..) Reminiscing.
Sisyphus: [curiosity turns to bewilderment] Reminiscing?
Me: [laughs out loud] Yeah!
[speaks while looking at the pen]
Profound pen thou art; you sink me into a reverie of days long gone past.

Yes, I said that. Result: he takes me for a raving neurotic lunatic (not that I'm not, but I was hoping for the revelation to be slightly more delayed).

Amazing how life, though quite simple, compels us to conjure escapable complexities.

P.S.: Whether or not this is fictitious, I leave for you to decide. But remember, reality is the one thing we always choose to deny.

P.P.S.: Reason for using Sisyphus as the pseudonym: I was thinking about the myth.


Friday, 1 February 2008

Poetry.. of sorts

I'm not one for writing poetry (specially when it is longer than 2 lines). So bear with me and these 6 odd lines of.. well, of whatever you reckon it is.

A haze of unreality settles:
As time slows, sounds quicken.
Words that are heard leave lips unmoved
A resonating echo of dampened cold travels the earth;
The unsighted winter makes lucid all,
But a thickened fog descends upon mind and sight.

Ecstasy rises from the forgotten explored.
The echo of melody, ephemeral-
Rapture revels in its transience.
As reverberating sounds clear frosty remains
Joyous euphoria blossoms green.