A Quest on Overdrive … :)

An eccentric rambler on life's lessons and mercies, found and lost… :)


Catch 22

To be verbose.

And be quite drowned

Flailing as the words consume.

But if I did not,

The silence would suffocate

The love we have.


So, I dare not.


To reach out, dying to hold

Your hand, and tell you things

That would so heal us both.

But if I did, and you turned away

It would do me in, and therefore us.

Rent, quite rent, the fabric of a cherished togetherness.


I dare not.


To read each word you never write

In the pages I’ve collected in the memories

We’ve gifted each other. Hoping to see it for real.

And if you did write, and I read the pain you shared…

Would it not quite be my undoing?


Don’t, please. Or should I say, please?


The twain might never meet.

Or meet it might, in vain.

Till it does, I’ll yearn.

And once it does, I’ll dissemble.


Catch 22.


28 April, 2017

Day#28 of #NaPoWriMo 2017, National Poetry Writing Month, 2017



Breaking Free

A determined spider

Has been at work…

Since when.


Spinning that web.

Anchoring it to

Infallible intent.


Infallible it is.

So steadfast, so much, that even if

Disloyal, it would still be. Infallible.


Right? Maybe.

For, who’s to examine fallacy?

Being dispensable themselves?


Therein lies the conundrum.

Webs woven, prey sought.

But, at some point, intent – it crumbles.


That’s the only loophole.

Target intent; attack indefatigability.

Then. Then you break free.


27 April, 2017

Day#27 of #NaPoWriMo 2017, National Poetry Writing Month, 2017


Coming of Age

Vanquishing innocence

Seeking eloquence in rebellion

Making sure the ideal

Stayed stealthily at hand…


Artfully destroying feet of clay

Unwilling to give up the heroic principle

But bending enough rules to make it seem so.

It would seem I’ve made the transition.


I never intended to go there.

I never intended to grow up.

“Peter pan”esque would I be.

Defiant till the end.


Till when all them bridges are burnt,

And all you can do is grow up and deal with it. Them.


27 April, 2017

For Day#26 of #NaPoWriMo 2017, National Poetry Writing Month, 2017



Rite of Passage

This Ceremony precludes

Intent, consequence,

Sometimes, even reason.

It is done, so it is done.


Growing up.

That moment you’re told

No one would hold your hand.

If you fall, you pick yourself up.

Dust your knee, look not for succor

To treat the first abrasion

On your heart.


The unwritten training manuals of life

Are etched far more permanently

In the minds of those under whose

Tutelage you might find yourself.


When you fall in love.

Play that straight, passionate,

With all the heart you have.

And then learn it’s tough

To have a heart at all.

Far better off without one

But no one ever told you that.

Instead, the stories of your childhood

The music of your adolescence

The sorority sessions,

The locker room lessons…

They merely ratified, certified maybe,

But constantly reiterated the

Legendary magic of Love.

You sigh, perhaps. In resonance?

I understand. I’m precisely where you are.


That time when you knew

You’d reached a point of no return

Yet look backward, into the pools

Of time, peering past the

Blackness, to pick out something

That shines through.

At times a clear and lucid image flashes.

At times it’s merely a tremor of trauma

All foggy, but the chill creeps all the way to


Do you stop looking back?

Them manuals do tell you, Don’t.

As with the child, that your heart finally is,

(though you think it old and broken beyond reason)

You do precisely that which you aren’t to do.


Then wonder at that threshold

Where you stand. Dying to go back,

For there is a comfort in the pain, the joy

That once was.


And nothing but terror in the path ahead.


Till that voice inside takes charge

Helped by that voice outside…

The one that owns the hand

Stretched out to shake yours.

Or maybe, just intertwine your fingers together…


And tug you, and your heart, onward.


The unknown trail, you’d take

Or the path you’d make.


Looking forward

To the you, you’ll be.

(And God Bless! ❤ You shall get to you 🙂 )


25 April, 2017

Day#25 of #NaPoWriMo 2017, National Poetry Writing Month 2017


Stray Thoughts

Blow hard upon your thoughts.


You’ll find, perhaps,

An un-extinguished ember

Still holding that fire

Of that dream you

Sold to life.

Saving but a hopeless

Sometimes torturous

Journey to its inception.


Maybe a bubble shall form.

Of memories, of faces,

Of a hurt you thought you forgot,

Of tiny joys, tremulous

Clinging tenaciously

To that ephemeral airy space.


What would you wish for


Fire or Air?

24 April, 2017

Day#24 of #NaPoWriMo 2017, National Poetry Writing Month, 2017.

Yep, a forced write. 🙂 The muse is tenacious at wherever she is 😛