16 SEPTEMBER 2013, 17:55
Two roads meet
Or begin
No one will ever know
But they travel
A never ending journey
Memorizing passerby
Victims of fortune
Of fate.
Milestones-all of us reach,
Two roads
At the end of which
Different fortunes await
Infinite treasures
Or a future of doom
Old father Luck
Makes his choice
The favoured one
Marches straight,
The other resigns
To an unfortunate fate.
All this
At the crossroads!
26 SEPTEMBER 2013, 13:11
A morose thought, trickles through the confines of this depressing hole that I have thrown myself into. It makes me smile, a dry widening of the mouth full of despondent sarcasm, bitter. Really,just when I thought it couldn't get any better!
I try, I honestly try, all the time to haul myself out of this dark pit. But to no avail. I reach out only to tumble farther into the dark pit. One step forward and then two steps back. Eternally going backwards. Pull me out of it, I cry. But no ones there to here me, no one to help me, no one to hold my hand. I look up and out of the shining circle of light going farther and farther away.
He..l..pp! My voice is barely a whisper. But I have to believe...one day....one day I'll get out! Out into the free world...a world of dreams and hopes...stars and hearts. All I've to do is..Believe.
01 NOVEMBER 2013, 22:20
What did it know, you couldn't blame him, he was after all a victim of circumstances, circumstances beyond his control, circumstances that were beyond his power considering the nature of it's being.
The man had rudely, and impulsively, he thought, thrown him from the rooftop of a twenty one storey building. He was just out new and he hadn't seen much of the world. So...why not?!, he thought, why not look at the world during his fall. The top couple of storeys flew by quickly due to his shock at being thrown off of a building. It was finally when some bird flew by that he started noticing things around him. There was a woman in one of the windows he passed screaming some very choice words on the phone...by the looks of it, it looked like a classic case of a woman scorned. He only felt sorry for the guy at the other end...after all they do say,"hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." The next window left open somewhere in the middle of the building complex showed two children watching cartoons...Ah! I've heard of Barney!, he thought. A man in a suit was watching something that showed some very serious looking people wearing suits discussing numbers?! Hmm....there's a thought, why do people discuss numbers?, he spoke aloud. A teenage girl talking on the phone, a man watching a game, a woman cooking were some other sights that came into his view.
But his thoughts were too preoccupied with the fact that the ground was looming nearer and nearer. Oh dear!! I hope this doesn't hurt, he thought. He finally hit the ground with an audible clink and rolled to a stop at the edge of a pavement. A guy with a goatee, carrying a guitar picked him up almost immediately. Oh well, he thought, that's that then! Another adventure then...After all today was just another chapter in his life as a penny!
15 OCTOBER 2013, 18:29
Dark thoughts envelope me
Hopelessness smirks
At my face
Taunting me
Torturing me
And here I sit
Wallowing in
Despondence and sadness
Alone...
So alone...
Desperate longing makes its mark
To burst out of this monotony
All I see
Shattered pieces of my broken life
Oh...deliver me!
Please,I beg!
I beg,I beg...in vain
No one to hear
No one to respond
To my screams of agony and help
A deafening silence
Is all that greets my ear
Isn't there anyone...
Anyone...
A plea...
Fear fills me
Of what I'll become
Fear that
All that's left will be
An empty shell of bitterness.
06 NOVEMBER 2013, 22:36
Curls flying
And eyes shining
With unfulfilled dreams and hopes
Ambitious and fiercely independent
She waits
And she waits
Heartless and cold,
They call her.
She beckons
Sightless eyes look back,
Seeking a saviour,
A challenger, an equal,
One who dares
To break the wall she built
The wall around her beloved treasure.
Her heart looks on
For someone to touch it
'He will come'
Is a hope fading.
A hope
For him to warm
Her cold heart.
"Like the windy breeze
Or the ice thou freeze,
Like the seasons turn
And the fire that burns,
Grow-grow richly so,
Blossom from the womb
Of your earthly tomb.
A precious gift to thee
Of everlasting ecstasy !"
This is a spell, an ancient spell to bring new life into our world- a plant. The second person references are made to Mother Earth- the all knowing deity under whose love and guidance the human race as a whole thrives.
Precautionary Measures( while using the spell)
"Everything comes with an equivalent price."
This is a renowned fundamental statement and unfortunately very true. For every spell there must be about equivalent sacrifice. Sacrifice equalling the fact that you will be bringing new life into our world. It should not necessarily be a life(that would be illegal)!), it could be an article having a little emotion attached to it, belonging to anyone.
There is of course another way, but one that you must attempt sincerely, not following which could result in a potentially disastrous situation, the effects of which could even be permanent. Here's the catch- you must think of an already departed soul or concentrate on a specific tree that has been destroyed or deforested and then proceed with the enchantment of the spell. But remember your full concentration should be on these departed souls and not on any wayward thoughts. Everything else should be fine.
Witchspeed!
- Potions & Broomsticks(the monthly magazine for witches and wizards)
(An article from an anonymous witch)
02 OCTOBER 2013, 09:37 AM
With a long ten metre body, with razor sharp claws that could rip flesh off in a moment, the body covered with an array of rotting skin and a few last remaining feathers from its days of glory, the beast remained forever exiled from its home, from its days past, exiled by creatures which called themselves the loved creation of God. Its head, grotesquely shaped, misshapen by its tormentors of the past, looked up and out to a freedom it has known but been deprived of. Sharp, yellowed and decayed teeth protruded out from its mouth. Its skin bore the marks of the wars it had faced, the wars which had made him an outcast, a reject, a thing to be despised. Surrounded by the smell of decayed flesh, it screams, it screams in agony, longing for its past life, for a life of joy, a life of acceptance.
But darkness has prevailed, its mind has been conquered, turning it into chthonic monster.
It searches for its victims, seeking its revenge against the race that put it there.
In a dark cave among the rugged lonely mountain it awaits its prey...patiently... with a bloodthirsty vengeance.
26 SEPTEMBER 2013, 01:08 PM
Up and down
And then up again.
To and fro I swing
The tree above
Shades the ground
Over which I fly
Only little Patches of sunlight
Filter through
Brilliant diamonds
Sparkling oasis
In a sea of gloom
I stop I think-
This is my life.
17 SEPTEMBER 2013, 04:17 PM
Sarcasm weighs heavy in the air.
This poison slowly trickles
Into words
'Words once spoken
Cannot be undone'
- is forgotten.
Innocent hearts
Victims of these
Inconsiderate words,
Waver from their solitary posts
Light hearts
turn bitter
Beating hearts
Turn grey
And all that remains
Is a
Sweet sour bitterness!
07 SEPTEMBER 2013, 04:14 PM
What I wouldn't give
To make amends
All the world
My heart, my soul
Just to see u smile
To be rid of that
Sweet sadness
That smothers every
Breath you breathe
The evanescence
Of your smiles, dreams and hopes Spears my heart
What I wouldn't give
Just to see you smile.
To see what's left
Of a glimmering life
A shell, a ghost of a life
Shards of a broken dream
Is all that remains
What I wouldn't give
To break that monotony
Of expressions
What I wouldn't give
Just to see you smile!
31 AUGUST 2013, 01:08 PM
Rancor bitterness that's descending Starting of decadence where Trenchant words and cruel deeds prevail, but
Cannot be undone!
A redoubtable figure rises,
A revolution begins anew,
A change, a transformation...
A new era begins
Of life, of a sole joined hope!
24 AUGUST 2013, 05:06 PM
Imperceptible, unreachable
Too deep to be probed
Too dark to see
Too heavenly to experience yet again,
A passion-wordless...
Ha! What are words but
Mere human inventions...
Invariably fallible.( this sarcastically ).
One chance, one ray of hope
Is alone offered to us mere mortals
To experience that forbidden fruit.
Forbidden, yet desired!
Pleasure that would last a lifetime...
A lifetime of that love.
24 AUGUST 2013, 05:06 PM Imperceptible, unreachable
Too deep to be probed
Too dark to see
Too heavenly to experience yet again,
A passion-wordless...
Ha! What are words but
Mere human inventions...
Invariably fallible.( this sarcastically ).
One chance, one ray of hope
Is alone offered to us mere mortals To experience that forbidden fruit. Forbidden, yet desired!
Pleasure that would last a lifetime... A lifetime of that love.
02 AUGUST 2013, 06:36 PM
A long forgotten dream
A memory
That's almost a dream
A haze, a mist
Is all that remains
A blurred line between
Reality and virtual reality
Whether it was
Benign brightness
Debilitating darkness
A thing of the past
A memory
Long lost in the
Swirls and mists of
Ever flowing Never stopping
Time
Never forgotten
But never remembered
Eternally present
But never there
And all that remains is
A wispy O' the Wind.
28 JULY 2013, 06:31 PM
Lately life seems too uncomplicated for me. Whatever anyone does doesn't surprise me anymore, it's like I am a spectator, not one of the actors, nor one of the helpers, just a spectator who looks on with an unstudied nonchalance , uninterested if not slightly amused and someone who has ceased to be surprised a long time ago. I feel like a mere onlooker over a balcony, a balcony that has ceased to provide amusements but over which I look because there is nothing else to do, because there is no other choice. I am like a statue, cold and unfeeling, emotions do not affect me now, and when I see others speaking about their feelings, it disgusts me.
But then I also believe that emotions are not meant to be spoken about, they are supposed to be felt, not put into words. And when people do that, that is, put feelings into words, it successfully if not completely destroys the magical effect it is supposed to have. And that I believe is why I feel not a part of this life. All around I see people doing just that, in consequence making me expect nothing outwardly but the same instance again and again. Consequently i have desisted to expect otherwise. Some things in life are better left unspoken. Precious memories, emotions, moments of stolen pleasure or instances of serendipity,are better left locked in that private place in our minds. Lost to the world but forever cherished . A private joy, a secret pleasure!
Nothing, no ploy can be more successful in destroying the worth of an experience than trying to put it into tedious words.
22 JULY 2013, 09:20 PM
The night was a little rough, yet enchantingly beautiful. The wind hummed and carried that infamous scream of a woman- full of pain, feeling, a haunting melody full of life. The night was yet young. The wind howled and echoed in the background. And gradually the inklings of a tale started rankling in my mind. The wind was some fearsome today. It howled with an unusual ferocity today. Although the night was still young, not a single star peeped out through the cloud.
There lived in the mountains a young rich widow who after the unfortunate and untimely death of her husband had opted for a life seclusion in an old bungalow belonging to her late husband . She had two servants-one middle aged woman who acted as housekeeper but lived in the village eight miles away. She came everyday at about six in the morning, let herself in using her personal keys to the house and promptly left at six in the evening after making the dinner. And the other was a security guard, very old and wise in a way that makes some people appear with age. Although he lived in the village he mostly spent the whole day and night in the bungalow's out house and only occasionally went to visit his grandchildren in the village home.
The bungalow was surrounded by mountains and pristine forests and the nearest civilization was the village eight miles away where the rich widow was infamous for her generosity. The young widow often found solace in long solitary walks that sometimes lasted for about half a day. As her days grew longer so did her rambles through the forest. After a particularly tiring and long walk she reached home after six and found that the maid had gone home and the food was growing cold on the dining table. Pretty soon the security guard came in to inform that he would be spending the night at his home in the village on the occasion of the birth of another one of his many grandchildren. The young widow expecting another quiet night readily agreed and bade him goodbye.
The evening gradually descended into darkness. The people of the village would later recall the utter blackness of that fateful night and the sheer lack of heavenly bodies. All that the village heard about the rich young widow was that night the wind screamed, or rather it seemed it carried a woman's screams. It is said that those were her last desperate cries for help, her calls for some much needed help.
The next day revealed the aftermath of a dark stormy night. Tress lay broken, the hounds had howled all night long and it was said that the dead walked through the streets last night. The maid as usually and punctually reached the bungalow at six a.m. and let herself in through the door with her keys. The scene which lay before her stopped her cold in her tracks. The blood ran cold in her veins. All material things which had been so adored in memory of her late husbands lay scattered around, but what her eyes seemed fixated on was the big pool of blood lying right in the centre of the room and from which were leading a pair of footprints right out the door she had just entered through. Screaming bloody murder she ran all the way back to the village and reported what she found. The men of the village formed a group and along with the sole policeman in the village set out towards the bungalow. Upon entering through the front door they found a similar scene as to what the maid had described. A search of the house revealed that no body was present whether living or dead in it. Upon closer inspection the footprints were found to be delicate and resembled that of a female. The rest of the house was found in similar disorder. With the directions of the sole policeman of the village the men inspected the surroundings of their benefactress. On finding no incriminating evidence against anyone and assuming the blood to be the widow's they concluded the investigation and put two sentries on guard. As the days passed no sign of the young widow was heard.
As the days passed into months the villagers realised that the wind through the mountains had now a haunting melody added to it, a woman's desperate screams. Soon the story became a legend, a thing of the past, a superstition. And gradually the incident was forgotten like so many things are lost into the folds of time.
And that my dear friends is why the wind screams!!!
22 JULY 2013, 09:20 PM
The night was a little rough, yet enchantingly beautiful. The wind hummed and carried that infamous scream of a woman- full of pain, feeling, a haunting melody full of life. The night was yet young. The wind howled and echoed in the background. And gradually the inklings of a tale started rankling in my mind. The wind was some fearsome today. It howled with an unusual ferocity today. Although the night was still young, not a single star peeped out through the cloud.
There lived in the mountains a young rich widow who after the unfortunate and untimely death of her husband had opted for a life seclusion in an old bungalow belonging to her late husband . She had two servants-one middle aged woman who acted as housekeeper but lived in the village eight miles away. She came everyday at about six in the morning, let herself in using her personal keys to the house and promptly left at six in the evening after making the dinner. And the other was a security guard, very old and wise in a way that makes some people appear with age. Although he lived in the village he mostly spent the whole day and night in the bungalow's out house and only occasionally went to visit his grandchildren in the village home.
The bungalow was surrounded by mountains and pristine forests and the nearest civilization was the village eight miles away where the rich widow was infamous for her generosity. The young widow often found solace in long solitary walks that sometimes lasted for about half a day. As her days grew longer so did her rambles through the forest. After a particularly tiring and long walk she reached home after six and found that the maid had gone home and the food was growing cold on the dining table. Pretty soon the security guard came in to inform that he would be spending the night at his home in the village on the occasion of the birth of another one of his many grandchildren. The young widow expecting another quiet night readily agreed and bade him goodbye.
The evening gradually descended into darkness. The people of the village would later recall the utter blackness of that fateful night and the sheer lack of heavenly bodies. All that the village heard about the rich young widow was that night the wind screamed, or rather it seemed it carried a woman's screams. It is said that those were her last desperate cries for help, her calls for some much needed help.
The next day revealed the aftermath of a dark stormy night. Tress lay broken, the hounds had howled all night long and it was said that the dead walked through the streets last night. The maid as usually and punctually reached the bungalow at six a.m. and let herself in through the door with her keys. The scene which lay before her stopped her cold in her tracks. The blood ran cold in her veins. All material things which had been so adored in memory of her late husbands lay scattered around, but what her eyes seemed fixated on was the big pool of blood lying right in the centre of the room and from which were leading a pair of footprints right out the door she had just entered through. Screaming bloody murder she ran all the way back to the village and reported what she found. The men of the village formed a group and along with the sole policeman in the village set out towards the bungalow. Upon entering through the front door they found a similar scene as to what the maid had described. A search of the house revealed that no body was present whether living or dead in it. Upon closer inspection the footprints were found to be delicate and resembled that of a female. The rest of the house was found in similar disorder. With the directions of the sole policeman of the village the men inspected the surroundings of their benefactress. On finding no incriminating evidence against anyone and assuming the blood to be the widow's they concluded the investigation and put two sentries on guard. As the days passed no sign of the young widow was heard.
As the days passed into months the villagers realised that the wind through the mountains had now a haunting melody added to it, a woman's desperate screams. Soon the story became a legend, a thing of the past, a superstition. And gradually the incident was forgotten like so many things are lost into the folds of time.
And that my dear friends is why the wind screams!!!
22 JULY 2013, 12:08 AM
Dreams in vain
A fine line
That separates
Fantasy and reality
Blurs,
Disrupted sleep
End of a story
A journey of love
Of safety
Of deepest untold desires
Of a world of our making
A safe haven
Of wishes fulfilled
Of everlasting happiness
Of joy
A land I yearn for
A land for searching
A quest
evermore.
03 JULY 2013, 03:33 AM
It seems a mundane enough topic. But the thing is journey including an airport can turn out to be incredibly fascinating but much more amusing! One gets to witness a lot of extremely interesting and vivid live action little amusements being formed. Of course thee is that other possibility that you are so bored everything suddenly starts to make you laugh. For example there are the really witty but mostly cheeky guards that on noticing that a foreign tourist doesn't speak English decide to get a little fun out of the situation. This decision is quickly followed by jests of no English?!', "You Chinese", "You German"!!! Much to the amusements of the natives around. Turns out a little harmless teasing goes a long way in the art of amusement.
And then there is the sitting on the plane. Fortunately mine was the aisle seat(for me the perfect seat, the window seat is just suffocating while the middle one, should I say anything more) and all the time I kept praying that please don't let the person sitting next to me be overly fat(no offense to anyone), or one of those persons who have to put their arms on the armrest and things like that. But turns out both the seats next to me were unoccupied....Ah the irony of life!
But the highlight of the journey would have to be the freaky turbulence. Over the many flights I've been on this was the only one had extremely frightening turbulence. At least I succeeded in not having my tea spill all over me.
Not only airports but every journey can make for a good story. Of course there is that little thing called 'paying attention'.
Signing out,
With hope for more future great tales,
Anj
02 JULY 2013, 03:27 PM
A lonely heart
A wandering sense
A ghost of a human
Seeking
Forever seeking, searching
For that one thing
A sole purpose
To live
To live a life
A meaningful life
A poignant life
A full life.
14 JULY 2013, 09:54 AM
I'd die
I'd go through hell
I'd give up anything
For you
A thousand times over
For you a thousand times over
Will I give you
Anything you want
All the grace and beauty
This world can bring forth
The joy, all of it that I can give
Dispel all your fears
Reach through for you
Through the darkest of darkness Hold you close
Surround you with my arms
Such that
Our heartbeats become one
Our souls bound for all eternity
Our lives forever entwined
The branches spreading out Surviving...
So that you become forever
Mine.
Have you ever given a thought to as to what the world would be like without its faults, it's wrongs, it's embellishments?
Imagine a world without sadness,unhappiness,despondency...indeed a dream come true for almost all of us. But I cannot help but wonder as to the nature of such a world, I am inclined to think that the world would cease to be exciting, but rather incline towards being menial, in fact boring.
I mean after knowing the hardships,challenges and the lessons that the world has of feed us we would feel positively bored, have no expectations whatsoever of anything different happening the next day. These thoughts have been revolving in my head for quite a few days now and well... I just wanted to get it out to the world and know their opinions too.
What I ended up perceiving was this- without all these hardships, sorrows and lessons that we learn in everyday life, life would cease to have any real meaning, it would end up to be rather a dull world with nothing to look forward too.
And that is just my opinion...what do you all think?
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