Reminiscence

Every dawn
Reminds me how much
I miss the ocean
And the people I loved

It seems like forever.
I feel the eerie silence
That comes after the door shuts behind
The ones who leave

And the silence is strange
And it bites hard.




Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Sunday, January 13, 2008 5:48 AM | 0 comments |

Writing the story anew


The fag he held smoked up itself. Another futile attempt at smoking away wounds he knows won’t heal. Time stands as an innocent evidence of thoughts he loses himself to. Routes it follows. Just to lose it yet again.

Meandering through the paths he never got to take. Games he will never partake. He wished to go back. To tell people he skipped. Tales they missed. Or, to write this story anew.

As he still hears the words she never said.
Or, she never meant.






















Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Saturday, January 12, 2008 9:31 AM | 0 comments |

What I write

Talks about life.
Relationship: with people and the world.
And, myself and my little world. Prose poetry. A few verses.
Some parts are true while others are fiction.
The way I see things. Imagine.
And, the way I write.










Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Friday, January 11, 2008 12:49 PM | 0 comments |

He wished not to be found again

He wished to be forgotten
And, left alone
To make the journey on his own

He can’t be late. Yet he knows he can go on and on
Forever could wait
He can submerge and jump the waves.

He was lost once
But this time he wished not to be found
Not again.

He can still love her forever
And not feel the pain
He just wished not to be found again.
Posted by Silenceofthedepth, 12:05 AM | 1 comments |

Everything is a lie

Everything is a lie. The world. And people who live in it.
This lie was so beautiful that he always believed it.

It broke the already fragile part of the heart that he was left with. She lied like all people do. And, like most people she didn’t even know. That it hurts.

He tried  hard. To pretend. Hence, to reassure himself. That there is joy even when you lose. That you can smile even when in pain. That day when he lost her. Or, she lost him.

When everything else turned into a lie.









Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Thursday, January 10, 2008 9:03 AM | 0 comments |

The First Morning

The night refuses to fade. He just watched the stars. Counting them in multiples of tens and then in hundreds. Thousands re-appeared in that star-lit sky.

Morning came by. He made coffee for two. Out of a habit.
He then stares at the unattended cup of coffee for what it seems like an eternity. It now hits him. Life without her!

The flower pot remains un-nursed. Morning-daily unread. The perfume bottle she left behind releases traces of her being still around. A portrait on the wall reassures that everything remains the same.

The first morning without her…








Posted by Silenceofthedepth, 6:16 AM | 0 comments |

As she fades....

Her eyes swelled with tears as she smiled upon the happiness that was never hers.Yet she felt it.

Games she played knowing very well that she will never win any.
Still it was worth a try.

She shakes hand with tomorrow. But the past pats her back.

So she keeps moving. Pretending she is going somewhere.

Trying hard…to heal and forget. Wounds she is yet to discover.
Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Tuesday, January 8, 2008 8:18 AM | 0 comments |

He writes dream


He writes dream. And he does that just like a dream.

It bites. The only two words she could muster the first time he painted a dream for her.

But time has made him lost his words. And, hence he tries to borrow from a reluctant past.

He almost touches the longing. Strangely comforting, and yet beyond his reach. He just wants to write a dream again. Like he did all his life. He waits and yearns like an exit that hopes for an entrance.

It now reads like a page of history. And, the dream he painted then still bites.













Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Monday, January 7, 2008 12:37 PM | 0 comments |

Empty match box


These are the sort of loses that can hurt. Like virginity. Lovers. And, good friends.

He felt he owned everything. With time he was left with nothing. One after the other he lost them all.

Castles made of sand. Dreams are no different. All things beautiful. They all are the same. He picked up the empty match box. Lone thing left behind. The only thing he now can claim.

Time steals. Things he never had. And, never will. Strangers he never met. Faces that pretend. Fake smiles that fool.


He needs not them. The match box he held. Empty though. He can call his own.





















Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Sunday, January 6, 2008 12:44 PM | 0 comments |

Free fall

She imagined herself falling freely. Like snowflakes. Or, like sunshine on grass.
The present doesn’t exist for her. Neither does it for the world. The past is pain. The future merely a lie.

Blaming other makes one weak. Hence, she takes it all on herself. She doesn’t need the present. She loves the free fall. That helps her forget all the friends she never knew. Stories she will tell no one.

Empty cans of beer. The only company that makes her feels safe. They do not hurt. And, they do not leave. Like people always do.


She measures the width of the world with the honesty of the men she spent many a nights. Merely the size of her palm, she discovers. She realizes how easy it is not to forget a world where she actually never lived.
Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Saturday, January 5, 2008 9:18 PM | 0 comments |

A journey without an end

Remember how we sat on the footboard and talked for hours as the train took us past the landscapes and carried us hundreds of miles together?

We held hands, and I felt safe that way. And, perhaps I could have followed you down if you slipped out of the fast moving train. And, remember how happy I was then. We talked of simple things…about life, and about this and that. I never felt as happy in my life as I did then. And I did wish that the journey never ends. The journey in the train of our lives!

The barren hills as the sun slanted down beyond them ready to go down for the day looked solitary but serene; and the farmers were about to call it a day from their daily rituals. Children in scanty clothes waved us now and then as we passed small villages and settlements. And, when we did wave them back they screamed in joy; some of them shouted words we never could properly hear nor comprehend. And, some of them just smiled and waved as long as they could see us.

I told you tales of my life; and of many other trivialities that scanned through my mind. And, the way you listened I could figure out that you loved it. Once in a while we sang and hummed in tandem as we watched the world go by us. The wind was refreshing and the smell of the paddy from the fields on either side of the railway tract could be felt in the heaviness of the winds that swept us. For some strange reason the fresh smell of the paddy ready to be harvested reminds me of things that I do not know what for sure.

Dusk soon followed as the hours went by. The moon in faint glow was already visible in the northern horizon as the sun just dipped down. I doubted if it at all was the moon, and you laughed it off. The moon makes it early at times, you said. Perhaps the moon wanted to join the two of us I joked. And we both laughed.





To be continued...
Posted by Silenceofthedepth, 10:35 AM | 0 comments |

Cobwebs of Yesteryears

The phone has not rung since forever. All traces lost even before the search could begin. All hopes dashed before he could build on his dreams. Drown into a river where mystery flows in place of water?

Time can be a rude shock. So can be stanzas of our lives. And then he found everything changed like never before. And then he forces himself into imagination to doubt if at all it has changed. And, he wonders. As he dies to hear somebody comforts that everything remains what it was. And, all that was to be.

Was it worthy of everything? And, whether it was right. If not, why? If it was, then how?

And, then the cobwebs of the yesteryears float him in thin air of grief. The tears give way to frozen ice. And, memories turning into dark store-rooms no one dare to re-enter. And, there he stands. Merely a shadow with a soul that he never knew was his. And, how he then wished that there never was a beginning. Everything is a lie. Blaming others makes one weak. Hence, he takes it all.

People don’t understand. Some never will.




Posted by Silenceofthedepth, 10:21 AM | 0 comments |

A Last Momenet

Did I say “Bye”?
When the bus took her away
Forever!

What was that she said?
As she turned back
For a last glance

Was it a smile?
Or a hint, a sign
Saying bye, one last time
Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Tuesday, January 1, 2008 1:56 AM | 0 comments |