Some scribbles are really short, barely a para, sometimes its just a line. However long they may be, they truly effuse from the bottom of my heart. Here's another of my scribbled emotions, the first of my Pensive Memoirs:

Even at the doorsteps of death,

I shall wait for you with abated breaths.

Hoping against hope that you would cometh,

Bidding me thy farewell of not love but hate instead.

I wanna be high...

Semester-end examinations are going on, so you can probably guess what I must be going through. Literally no preparations, and facing multiple backs. Hah, yet I defy all, everything and everyone to scribble this.

Wings of emotions soar me to new heights,

Across the abyss, up the mountains to new delights,

But in the enigma of delight lies pain that makes me sigh,

Oh, I want to be away from the pain,

I really want to be high.

On the brink of disaster I stand now,

But to avert it  don't know how,

Addicted to lonliness I see no scope,

Despite being an optimist,

I just have no hope.

I know I am alive, but yet I am not,

Embellished to the hilt, nothing I have got,

Resigned to my fate, I reslish in the fact,

That even at my end,

My sanctity will be intact.

P.S:- Special Thanks to AD, you inspired me to scribble this with your previous writeup on the writeup cafe.

My way..

I had written this one a long time ago. I had been feeling low and lost. So I had thought of some self motivation, this scribble had come up then. Today too am feeling the same way, and was going through my scribbles for some hope, something to get me along and thus...

Black thunder & roaring waves,

Screamin' silence, listen to them say,

My dark heart cries in estatic neighs,

Brutal torture I'll avert come what may.

Atrocious cries against life,

In all the pain, all that strife,

Cutting myself with a blunt knife.

I keep tryin' to move on,

Redempting myself ever since I was born

Penances in line, like sheafs of corn.

Hoping to find peace some day,

If not I'll just create my own way,

Keeping melancholy and agony at bay,

Because that's my life and I'll have it my way.

My Freedom

I shan't give any background for this one. A lot has been going on these days, and it was with a heavy heart that I picked up my pen to scribble this...

Straining to break free,

Waiting for oppertunity,

Spinning till am dizzy,

Trying hard to finally be,

Me.

Lost in the darkness,

Burdened down with stress,

No efforts make my pain less,

Melancholy covers with finnesse,

Me.

Everything perfect I try to do,

What goes wrong, I have no clue,

Do my actions I now rue,

Sadists enjoy this disastrous view,

Me.

Absolute freedom I now need,

Have to remove this parasitic weed,

Am I paying for some evil deed,

Only Death seem's the reprieve, Hell shall be able to free,

Me.

My Rhythm

This particular scribble is extremely close to my heart. Perhaps my first scribble in college, it has a blend of emotions concocting a mellow cocktail of nostalgia, pain, hurt, frustration, confusion and yet, hope...

Here's my rhythm...

Rhythm in life's a must,

So we can be in harmony,

But life's not so just,

And lays for us troubles many.

Coming from a background gentle,

I seem lost in this backbiting haze,

I wish the change was subtle,

And not this ridiculous haze.

I wish I were away,

Back to the good and sweet,

Where friendship held sway,

Always there and silently discreet.

Bonding that always grew further strong,

Making us feel good,

And even find our wrongs,

As ideal friendship should.

But here life's different,

And interaction is less,

Coldness floods in torrents,

Adding to my stress.

Oh, I seem lost here,

But what will I get by lamenting,

Nobody cares,

So its no use even pretending.

Still I try to march on,

Towards that beacon of light,

With the hope that I'll not find it gone,

As I might break down then, I might!!

No way out..

This one came up in one of my broods. I was down and low, as so often I'm, when I started this scribble. I've a terrible attribute of seeing the best in others, often leaving me heart-broken and worse still, clueless about the reason. Prose doesn't express me as well as poetry so I'll let my bettter ability to take over...

Some people never learn,

I am one of those,

Expect way too much from others,

Only pain's my dose.

Yes am learning,

But the process's slow,

Life keeps on passing,

Letting my pain to grow.

When crisis strikes,

I try to reamain calm,

Bearing all the pain,

Without any qualms.

Am stretched and pushed,

Right upto the hilt,

No idea how much more I can take,

Before my head splits.

Like a deep cut, an open wound,

The hurt is forever,

No escape, no reprieve,

No way out, never.

Death Speaks...

This one has been one of my better attempts at pure fiction. Fate or as some call her, destiny has funny ways of getting things done her way. Without further ado, I give you

Death Speaks..

Life fades to pain and death,

Where is love in dying breaths,

I tried to find it and paid heavily,

Death comes to claim me, her eyes bloodily greedy,

For I tried to spread hope where it was not,

To those down and low lest humanity rot,

Divide melancholy, keep grief at bay,

Then death said enough! for your sins now you must pay.

She met me in the busy street of Baghdad,

Next to the auction selling ships of Sindbad,

Even in the hustle-bustle of the market street,

My spine chilled even in the burning heat,

Oh! she was beautiful,like an angel I'll say,

But I knew her, 

she was death standing in my way,

Our eyes locked, like lovers we lovingly stared,

Then she made a threating gesture, 

and I knew I'd all the reasons to be scared.

I've decided, in Baghdad I'll not stay,

I've to find a way to keep death at bay,

The fastest horse in all of Baghdad I'll find,

And set off for the west,

where in the Sun Death shall be blind.

To Samarra I'll go for the lore says,

Death goes not to Samarra till the end of days,

After I escape I'll keep spreading hope,

Continue the good work, I pray that Death allows me to elope!

Prologue:

Death:  Death I am, dark yet pure,

One day I'll be yours too, be sure,

Destiny sure is funny, with its ways,

I'll quote an incident, hear it Death says,

I didn't threaten him,

if that he thought he was kneive,

That was just surprise,

For I really liked him but had my work to do,

I really had to take him,

but that's something I'll always rue,

What surprised me was his presense in the valley,

Because with my book it didn't tally,

If he was there in Baghdad the chances were weak,

Of making it to our rendezeveous 

in Samarra that night, so Death speaks...

Repost from my other blog, "The Sentient Soul"