Tag Archives: a writers life

Reverie.

In living an existence of insanity

A being of absolutely solidarity,

She found solace among inanimate objects

Amidst her life which was completely wrecked.

 

She fell in love with words.

When everyone thought her to be absurd,

She made books her escape mechanism

While her heart screamed abstract expressionism.

 

She fell in love with fantasy

Loathing her reality,

Making her miseries unconscious

She made books her life’s colossus.

 

 

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Cacoethes.

Todays evening sun

Reminds me of him…

A ‘Him’- lonely, vibrant and distant.

When I bask myself in its glory

To brighten my inner joys,

To enliven my hurting hunger.

I draw him to me, in

The dusk of my glooming room

And sit atop

Mouth on mouth,

Body on body,

Craving, thirsting-

The mundane murmers soaring, sigh

The rumblings

The thrusting

The grieving agony-

The passion, the breathing

Slowly moving.

And then the night steals him,

The romantic notions of sun,

The patronising night, and his stealth.

And all I am left with,

Is a gentle throbbing,

A longing lust,

And my eyes dreaming.

Ps: Please don’t give up on me. I’ll catch up with you guys very soon.

A writer’s Musings!

A writers' Musings .jpg

Do share your thoughts on this one.

Do you agree that writers are worth something?

Or do you stand with the others believing that writers are a confirmed, forbearing and a resigned set?