Tag Archives: mind

Posies: Available For Pre-order

I don’t know how to say this. But I think I did it. See, how skeptic I still sound of myself? But that is how it is and you if you are still around my blog after an absence of eternity almost after every post, I know you will still go ahead and read this.

 

Believe me, I am not taking you guys for granted but I have been so overwhelmed by the things going around that I did not know what to do, or how to do it. In my last post I was still lost and wandering, I think I still am. However, with all the wandering and wondering I have gone ahead and done this one tiny thing, called ‘POSIES’.

 

Now, what is Posies? ‘POSIES’, my friends, is a collection of poetry that I bled through the entire last year. Now you might know that I had been writing poetry all through the year. 2019 became the year for writing poems. I don’t even know how it started, but one thing led to another (you know what I mean) and then there I had it, a determined thought to write poems every single day of the year.

 

It wasn’t easy. I had days when I asked myself, why was I even doing it? Then there were days when I wanted to tear my own skin. And then there were days that soothed me so much when I wrote down even a short four-line stanza and termed it as poetry. It was worth it, is all I can say. That said, I know not all of them are worth publishing, leave publishing, I don’t think they should even go on my blog. But I did think that there were a select few, however simple, however mundane, that came out of my heart, which I needed to say, a few thoughts that I wanted to be known and read.

 

I know none of us have been intimidated by quantities. So the number of poetries doesn’t matter. What matters, is I have been silent for far too long, and I have a voice now. I want to say things. I want you to feel what one might feel. I want to be read.

 

So, I started drawing out a few works of mine as December started and edited them, re-edited them, re-re-edited them. I worked on them so much that I started hating my own work, wondering if at all I should go and publish something like this. And before I could quit, I started searching for the process of publishing a book and told a couple of my friends what I was doing.

 

I got appreciated, I got the kind of help and support I needed. One of them even went ahead and said, ‘Finally’ probably meaning that finally I was thinking about a book of mine, or even probably that finally I had the courage to do it. Who can tell, I didn’t push.

 

But yes, after that I did not think of quitting. Yes, it was overwhelming and doing something that I had no idea about, trying to make my dream come true, working on something with people of all kinds was indeed torturing to some extent. But I did it. I reached out to people and friends who had done this before, books, e-books, publsihers, cover selection, editors, and marketers. There were a lot of terms, and a lot of area where I had no clue as to what to do.

 

So, I took baby steps, doing one thing after another. And I know I have still made mistakes, probably more than I know now. But I did it, and I cannot tell you how it felt when I sent the last email, finalizing everything, knowing that whatever I could do, I have done. And even far greater feeling was the one when I saw that the e-book was done and ready; live for pre-order on a lot of parts in this world, the feeling of knowing that if someone ever picks up my book, my voice will be far and beyond, making people think. I don’t know what to say. So perhaps, I should stop talking. I will only say that my first book titled ‘POSIES’ is available for pre-order on amazon. And the paperbacks are hopefully coming soon.

 

Below is the link to my book:

 

 

I will sign off today by saying that a writer is nothing without the reviews and criticism she gets. So, if at all you get around to reading my book, do let me know how you feel about it.

 

Also, excuse my all my recent and a few of future posts for being all about my book. But it is the only thing important to me now, that is the only thing happening, this is the only dream I have ever wanted to be labeled as an author somewhere, even if five people read it and all of them tell me it is just another worthless book.

The Arrested Fear.

I am sitting

Huddled among my friends

Or beside my love

But I am sitting

And I am laughing, talking.

I am happy.

Or so I thought-

For I was sure, sitting

But I was alone

Where did he go?

Why did the people leave me?

I was confused

Scared.

And then I saw someone

A pair of innocent black eyes

Walking towards me

Callously strolling,

A flicker of smile

Spread across his handsome face.

His bare chest

Trailing down to a carved V

Ending right above the

Loose white pair of trousers.

His pace quickens

And his eyes aren’t innocent anymore.

His smile isn’t handsome anymore.

And I get up and run.

I run.

But where do I run?

Somehow, I am on a five inch wide railing

And he is walking on it,

Towards me.

But I can’t walk.

I can barely stand straight.

He is walking.

And I am freezing.

I realize- I need to get away

And so I shut my eyes

And jump.

But there is nowhere to jump.

There is no railing

There is no falling

There is nothing.

But then where am I standing?

I open my eyes in a hurry

To find all blurry.

He is still walking towards me

And I am still there

Somewhere!

I need to run, I remind myself

So I run.

I am running back

To there

As far as I can see

And he is inches away from me

Devoid of any hurry

But full of innocence

And if there is innocence

Then why am I running away?

But I run.

I still run

Panting

Tired

Without a sense

I run.

There is a pleading noise from behind me

But I am so scared

I still run

And then there is nothing

Except for a log jump

Off the elongated sky

And then there are

Stairs.

So I run off them

Two at a time.

I keep going down

I run without a breath

Devoid of a thought

Panting

Sweating

Trembling

With fear.

And after about a hundred stairs

I am blocked.

There are four walls

No doors.

And I beat myself against each one of them

None moves.

I try again.

I am terrified.

Horrified.

I am tired.

I here a meek laughter from above

But I see no one.

There is nothing.

And I am trapped.

But how am I trapped

When there is nothing?

Yet, here I am

Eyes aghast

Fear gripping every inch of my body

The faint innocent eyes hiding

My soul writhing in agony

The dream subsiding the depravity.

Hopes And Expectations!

Unknown

Just wondering..

While on the one hand you are striving towards it, and on the other there is only faith and a vain belief.

What exactly happens?

Does that belief turn into the expectations that we are taught not to have?

Or the hope itself is a reflection on the said expectations which we are not suppose to have?

Or, is there a fine line between hope and expectations which I am blinded not to see?

Or they are just two words trying to play with my mind?

Any thoughts?

 

Calm!!

This is what I came upon social media today. Guess, being socially active is not after all, all bad?

img_0015.png

A much needed respite from daily humdrum, from routine monotony, from everyday expectations.

Try it, it does look, sound and feel peaceful!

 

Forgetting To Live.

When I was young, like a very small kid, I wanted to grow old, not like my grandma or grandpa old, but old like my elder brother. So that I could have the chances which he had, so that I could do what he could do.

Then when I thought I was like my brother, how old he used to be, then I wanted to grow older than him, so that I could live how he lived, without anyone bossing over me.

When I was really old, like you know the recent adult? I wanted to become someone who was stable, with a proper job, and all that, you know.

Then, I was old, like you know who had a job, and a little money, and something, and then I wanted to have a family of my own. I wanted to be the one whom I saw on the street the other day, the one with a husband, and two cute little children.

When I was the one with the cute little children, I wanted to be the one that I saw from across my house, you know the old lady cribbing at her old man, for not doing something, for not understanding her, and yet how you could tell that they had grown old together.

Then when I was that old lady, I wanted yet something else. I wanted to be the free individual who lived next door, so that I could travel like him.

And then I wanted something else too…..

 

My point being, all our lives we keep wanting things. We want, and we want. We are never satisfied, ad we never will be. May be, we want something and we get it, and then we don’t want it anymore. May be we do get it and now we want something else. We keep pining for things we don’t have, never relishing what we actually have. We keep trying to push ourselves to get more, not realizing that in the process we are losing what we have.

We keep wanting to live in a way, never realizing that we are forgetting to actually live in the life that we are supposed to be living.

 

I Wanted To Heal You….

 

I wanted; wanted

To take away all our pain,

To free you from your aches,

To envelope you in my embrace,

To make you forget all that can’t be erased.

 

I wanted; wanted

To kiss all your tears,

To chase away all your fears,

To taste all your wounds,

To chaperone you to the tombs.

 

I wanted; wanted

To cure you of your grief,

To surcease all your strife,

To heal your body, your soul,

To be your cure, an antidote.

 

I wanted; wanted

To give you all my happiness,

To bestow you only with blissfulness,

To free you of the enchains,

To liberate you, of all the restrains.

 

And in doing so,

I lost my exulted ecstasy,

My humorous joviality,

My peace, my calm,

My tranquility, the only charm.

 

And in doing so,

I reached someplace called inferno,

Burning, writhing, for how long I don’t know.

In healing you, I lost myself,

My body, my soul,

And there was left, no antidote.

*

Sometimes, I wonder though, if at all this is possible. You always wanted everything to fall in place for the other person, you always wanted peace and serenity for them, but in trying to do everything for them, can you really lose yourself? In doing something good for others can you really hurt yourself? Can you really torture and enchain yourself, so, so badly that you fear your presence? Can you really fall to some place so dark?

Words!

Words are important.

What I wrote above are just three words, but if I sit and think about it, it is as significant as words for me.

A person really needs to think what he is saying before he speaks those words out, before it is too late. You cannot take back those words.

Words are a person’s thoughts, his mind, you can really make a person feel loved by them or you can break a person too.

Words are simply significant.

For me words are my feelings, my heart, my soul, my truth. Whatever language they may be in, it doesn’t matter, words are words, and they are me.

I speak very less in person, I like to listen more. (Because most of the time the other person does not like to listen.). But there is a reason I speak less. I think I have no right judging and forcing my views on others. This does not mean I keep things to myself, I let my feelings out too, but in a more measured and careful way. I can’t just bring myself to destroy the other’s belief, right or wrong. May be I overthink this too, as I overthink everything else, but when someone tells me something, I believe it, when someone is rude with his words, I tend to get hurt, or I think I get over-hurt; when someone says something nice to me, I get over-joyed, all because I love the words they have said. I give so much importance to those words, when in actuality they could do with a little less paparazzi. (Only to avoid getting overjoyed and over-destroyed)

But what can I say, I may be an emotional fool to say that words touch me where people fail to.

Words are significant to me.

They touch my soul.