My Muse

A-muse-d She may be

Each day, when I so

Desperately seek her out.

She smiles, at the nick of time.

Graciously lets me swagger

(in the belief I masterminded them)

In the surfeit of words she shares.

She brings Magic, she does.

Even I, in my arrogance,

Must admit.

The kind that stretches

Beyond imagination;

Past spells cast to

Invoke, evoke, rebuke, choke…

She stays, companionably,

Inclining her sagacious head

Watching me chisel and hone a notion.

I might not acknowledge her,

Yet she lingers, a sheen in her gentle eyes

That you could mistake for moisture.

Happy? Pride? The ramble

Exceeds expectation?

Maybe the cold shoulder I give

Could be it, too.

How she waits, so patient…

But the walls are up

And the gates are locked…

Till that desperate cry, for help

Leaks out, faintly.

She fixes her smile,

Waits upon the whims

And allows the rambler

To think she, herself, is the Muse.

(13 April, 2018, Day#13 of #NaPoWriMo, 2018)

(Repost- here the earlier posting of this, with beautiful comments by Gulshan and Govind – LINK)

Serendipitous, nothing less, that the word Muse was chosen for today. However, she’s iffy today 🤗 All she gave me, was a reminder, in the form of this verse, from three years back, to the date!

The art, thankfully, is fresh! ☺️😀

13 April, 2021, Day#13 #Napowrimo 2021

Muse

A-muse-d She may be

Each day, when I so

Desperately seek her out.

She smiles, at the nick of time.

Graciously lets me swagger

(in the belief I masterminded them)

In the surfeit of words she shares.

She brings Magic, she does.

Even I, in my arrogance,

Must admit.

The kind that stretches

Beyond imagination;

Past spells cast to

Invoke, evoke, rebuke, choke…

She stays, companionably,

Inclining her sagacious head

Watching me chisel and hone a notion.

I might not acknowledge her,

Yet she lingers, a sheen in her  gentle eyes

That you could mistake for moisture.

Happy? Pride? The ramble

Exceeds expectation?

Maybe the cold shoulder I give

Could be it, too.

How she waits, so patient…

But the walls are up

And the gates are locked…

 

Till that desperate cry, for help

Leaks out, faintly.

She fixes her smile,

Waits upon the whims

And allows the rambler

To think she, herself, is the Muse.

13 April, 2018, Day#13 of #NaPoWriMo, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Progress Report for 2013

Open House Time on all WordPress Blogs, ain’t it? And here’s mine, and yours too, if you’re a visitor here, or one of those who leaves behind your precious words 🙂 Thank you, for your time, your affection, and the wise words you’ve gifted the blog and blogger! Hope you all have a great, safe and successful 2014 too!

So, without much ado, let me hand you over to the Research Department and the stats helper monkeys of WordPress!

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 15,000 times in 2013. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 6 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Approbate

You give, and I take.
An even deal or not-
That’s how it’s always been.

Till when I knew
That only taking
Meant I was losing.

And giving, well,
As strange as it seemed
Made you richer…

The homily wasn’t lost on me.

And happily enough,
We still have time
To approbate a new deal.

24 November, 2013

Pic courtesy Google Image search 

Quest, interrupted

What if.
What if?

Which one do I mean, I wonder at all those crossroads I’ve been down, where, from the place I’m now at, I think of the roads I did not take. Happily enough. Or wonderingly. Well, I must be honest, and say this too, unhappily enough, sometimes. And while I’ve believed in the ‘Right here, Right Now’ song and dance, and counsel all and sundry, very generously too, I get that my faith falters, occasionally.

So I slip back into the quicksand that my past is, given the heady moments I can lose myself in, on slow and lonely days like today. Barely talking at all, memories triggered by a stray line in yet another romantic nonsensical story which is just about all I can digest. I know I’m losing it, letting go of the ties of today.

Fifteen years is a long time, and it’s suddenly just a week ago as well. Damn. Wallowing in the eighteen months we had together back then… so long, and yet so short. The day I was sent to clarify the entries in that register, to the day, a month on, when we, together, found them doctored; weathered the fall-out of the company almost going under; survived, despite all the efforts to put us down, away. The close proximity of those days brings the scent of nostalgia dangerously and tangibly a breath away. Double damn.

I’ve moved on, I told you, as you did too. Those were days of sheer giddy-headed madness; probably the perceived danger added to the already cliched fires simmering. Your quick smile, the way you tilted your head when you looked, pointedly at me, daring me… oh my! How young you looked! Not that I ever felt guilty. I still don’t. I know you had no regrets either.

But I do, today. I wanted to have taken that road, all those years ago, with you. All those years would have been all the better for being with you. How does that matter, you’d ask, perhaps. Holding a figment close to one’s heart, it definitely isn’t the same as the real thing, dear one. Duh. Your response.

I find myself smiling, when I should actually have lost all that. The email I am reading, right now, tells me so. You don’t smile, do you, when a friend from all those years ago, with whom you’ve desultorily kept in touch with, informs you

remember Aditi? You two were certainly close, weren’t you? And anyway you’ve already heard I guess. She was in that accident that was all over the news channels, that bus accident in Hyderabad

So. I’ll hold that duh as well, close, as I rattle about in this empty existence.

17 November, 2013