The Big Comeback Isn't Happening

a. Because a job takes a lot out of you.

b. Because there is hardly anything worthwhile to post on considering I am living too far off from the newspaper or the television or "the happening crowd ".

c. Because people are not blogging much these days - that means less chance of reading some inspiring post and then to subject the world to the torture of some of my views on the same.

d. Because I hate to treat my blog as a Twitter or Facebook update column and leave behind one-liners reeking of moronic simplicity.

e.g - " Have a new mouth to feed in two months. My cat got pregnant again." or

" Isn't Sachin the greatest batsman ever? huh? huh? huh?"

Of Blocks and Bloggers

As 'blogger's block' afflicts most of our brethren I suspect that it has recently found a victim in me too.

With lots in mind to give vent to and loss of choice words when in front of the white-screen, the symptoms are just too telling to miss. But, as I would advice any friend of mine to "go scribble!" in the vein of popular soft-drink ads when in such a situation this is my lame attempt to do just that. Scribble.

Its very surprising that how once you start to write, even if you are short of ideas, short on plot-material or feeling too lazy to develop on the dream-sequence that you had while dozing off in the theater last time it all just seems to fall in place after scribbling a few erratic paragraphs. Yes, the body of your work at the end of such an exercise might not appeal to your tastes when after many years you decide to read your own posts to recreate 'the same feelings' but it will keep your blog on a steady drip and that's something. Moreover 'blogs' are so-not-places for content-specific cataloging. They are meant to be this mad child born of your thoughts, momentary and meditative alike. Sigh that I can't pull myself into ranting on the virtual-space. And I stand to lose in the bargain. Entirely. Two fully functional blogs at my disposal and not a single rant-post till date. I feel terrible! Or should I ?

But then, the thoughtful side of me calls for restraint. Why sulk and shout on a web-page when you can keep all that to yourself. Yes, its therapeutic, I know, but what if it turns out to be counter-productive. The occasional footloose surfer might just lose his appetite reading your blog and "it's my space!" logic sounds too very arrogant an explanation. 

Not everything is "fine and dandy" anywhere. Every one at the end of the day has a 'blog personality'. Right ? Knowingly or unknowingly we reach out to people through what we post So why draw 'the scziphophrenic' in loud colours for them. It becomes a tad too confusing. You always have 'poetic devices' to express yourself. Even if none of it is for real and just for the effect'. Keeps both ends intact that way.

Meanwhile, I have just completed posting a perfectly worthless blog-post and scribbled my way to inglory. And I feel I have written enough rubbish for a day.

Cheers to that!

Museless

How long should you, the poet, wait
before you know its all in vain
to wait for some worthy subject
to whisper life into your pen.


Or is it wise to please the mob
with hackneyed verses, cliched lines
and go about doing your job
making lifeless words to rhyme.


Let the seething silence seep
Fling open the windows wide
Drawing from the frozen deep
Let the thaw of itself write.





photo: gettyimages.com

The Part of You That No One Sees

You are powerful, passionate, and dominant. You have a vision of how things should be, and you do your best to make things happen. People rely on you for your strength. You are a rock to many. Underneath it all, you aren't so sure about your passions. So many ideas spark your interest, it is hard for you to get behind a select few. However, you see indecision as a sign of weakness. So you pursue your goals full force - no matter how foolish they turn out to be.

What's the Part of You That No One Sees?

The Movie that I am

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Children of the sunshine play

In my garden strewn with hay

Trampling all the virgin grass

Unknowingly they make my day.

I, sometimes, extract a glee

From the frolic flowing free

In my heart of hearts to know

That myself they will not see.

Still they guess a vigil wait

Till they walk out tired, late

I see some of them steal a glance

Past my forlorn, rusted gate.

At times when they are at a game

Going through the tried same

I busy myself fending off

The urge to know some of their names.

In my eager hunt for peace

I find a solace in their ease

Of handling little hurts at play

As envy capers accomplice.

This evening at my window seat

Life does seem so incomplete

Not to mingle with the grass

That tickles all those tender feet.