A Quest on Overdrive … :)

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


3 Comments

Unexpressed

When words rush out,
Choc-a-block-
From the depths…
The Abyss
The void
Where you know
Nothing is-

They possess you.

They rush-
In a stampede,
Only to be met
By that awful lump
In the throat.

In that release-
Freed from fathoms far
Below;
Fleeing fiercely;
Never to be trapped
Again in that
Numbing vacuum;

They never thought
That freedom hung on
That breath …

The breath held tight-
Constricted in the chest-
Steely, cold, heavy.

And the words?
They pushed,
Every which way,
Seeking that escape:

So you let them.
Escape, that is.
Through the despair
Shouting from the eyes,
In the voiceless plea-
The cold sweat,
Drenching the palms.

And the anguished silence.

Yet,
The lump in the throat
Doesn’t dissolve.

Whatever the expression,
It can never be complete;
Unless the knot is untied,
And comfort warms
The cold hard lump-

Till it dissolves
And
The breath freed…

The words, of course,
By now, have found release.

Goes to prove
Just this-


Words, who needs them?

17 April, 2008

Revisiting an old one again, for Day#9 of #NaPoWritMo 🙂

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4 Comments

Pen-Ultimate

The pen is mightier than the sword
But yet, hold that thought, till you’ve sliced
A finger with the vegetables,
And then scream other wise 🙂

All said and done,
The written word, and the spoken word
They are the true weapons
For while a sword just wounds
And bleeds, and threatens and coaxes
And blackmails, and supresses…

The pen, it nudges, quickens hearts
Wounds the soul, after slipping under the skin
Great pain, it wreaks, with no blood spilled
Majesties move, then and rulers crumble
The cowards, with the swords, they flee the word
Or hack the word’er’ to stem the flow…

But does that stop anything?
No no, for the word,
It moves Mountains
That come to the Mohammed
The word, it eases closed doors open
And builds a shield no sword can ever slice!
It heals as nothing can, and gouges too,
A lot worse that that sword can!

So, if that word be all powerful
Should not it rule, and not the sword?

If you ask that, my dear
Know this, the sign of the times
You have NOT read…

The Words my dear,
They do , DO rule
Else you would not be here
Neither would I

Nor would the worst terrorist
Fear those, more, those
Who read, and love the word.

That’s why, you see,
When words strike you
And you need to share…

What do you say?

Word.

And words are all I have
Warbled the famous singer

Wordlessly, I concur 😀

On this penultimate post,
For #RamblingsInFebruary
Having slogged, slaved,
But enjoyed it so much

Knowing that even a
Professional Procrastinator
Like this rambler
Is able to read
Greet, and meet
(yeah, yeah, yeah, one more post to go!)
Deadlines 😀

Only because of
The Word.

28 February, 2015

Day#27 in #RamblingsInFebruary 🙂 Well, penultimate … always creates that anticipation- work about to be completed, or reaching the top!

february ramblings


6 Comments

Doodle

This has got to be one of the silliest ever in terms of rhyme, so please bear with this rambler 😀

When words curdle
From their easy flow
It means your thoughts scramble
From feelings that strongly blow.

So letters detached
From words, once attached
Create mayhem in meaning
(And) the rambler in confusion, wondering…

What went sour?

The words?

Or their meaning?

26 September, through to 1 October 😀


2 Comments

Words, to Read

Words leap out
From pages
I have not read;

Seek me, reach out
Softly settling on my skin.
Lost, I jump out of it-

When they touch.

Those are pages
I cannot read.
Anymore.
Why? Because they
Read themselves out?

No, no. No, no.
More, perhaps, because
I’m afraid
Of what it might
Take to read.

The undercurrents would
Drag me, drown me.

I shall be lost. Lost.
To Them.
I am already lost
With Them;
Just knowing they are there.

What it would do-
Knowing Them
Is the risk I cannot take.

They’re the fallen leaves.
On the road I cannot take.

27 August, 2014
One of those “Class” writes. 🙂


14 Comments

So, today …

… bang in the middle of the day
I wait for those words, lurking
Just there. Just there.
Where I cannot reach.

They came, with the waking moment.
That moment, when you are, and you aren’t.
That moment, when clarity strikes.
And fuzzy warmth of slow recognition
Mists over.

I reached out. Too late…
Like petulant children, they shied away.
That moment is when they wanted me.
Not two ticks later.

So here, in the middle of the day
I sit. I yearn. I plead. I know though
They won’t surface now.
I also know when they will. 🙂

Not now. But at that moment,
When I turn away, peeking like those
Perky persistently playful creatures they are.
Not words. Not anymore.

They’ve grown beyond that
Into a yearning. Into a secret pleasure.

I don’t know the story yet.
Or the ending.
All I have, are these tingles
These feathery-touch-me-softly promises
From them.

They’ll come.
They’d better.

… They ought to.

They will, won’t they?

heart-words1

14 February, 2013

Google images brought me to this pic. … from this place:
http://clairemca.wordpress.com/2012/05/07/a-love-of-words-and-music/
The picture belongs to its creator there.