Indigo

Why is solace so
singularly sad
yet uplifting
in its hushed solitude?

is it not then
we hear the lilting
melodies of our hearts?

Why is silence
sought out
when the wind
hushes
for no one

and whispers
no names but
those we keep
secret and close
to our heart of hearts?

How could it be more tender
in any other way?

Why would I want
a pain loved so truly
by solemness
shared in any other way?

Lovely!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Querida

PP Maam, your comment about feeling blue...I cannot say that feeling a certain way leads to writing for that same way :D
though musing on feelings led me to this:

stressed. depressed. ser-i-ous.
down, in a valley of doubt...
do not know what it's all for or about.

questioning...confused...enlightenment refused....
slip back two steps for every one...
do not know and wondering where to stop and where to go.

regret/remorse...ashamed/guilty
stuck in a spot wondering whether the past will taint which way the path will flow...
do not know the consequences, cannot escape from prickling reproaches.

irate-annoyed-angry-mad!!!
stomping towards nowhere...
do not want to see beyond what is not known.

shy....a little...timid...a little...abashed...hesitant...reluctant....a little
cannot move beyond an inch unless given way...
do not see beyond the moment or beyond the ground.

happy, joy, gladly-glad.
up in the mountain...
do not care to know, where i go, life follows.

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Excellent Work! :D

Thank you Miss. Kavya :D
it was just a lighthearted musing on emotions :)

I built a house in the sky
and though it
braced and buckled
crumbled and broke
I built a little house in the sky.

I painted it
all the colours
of a twilight night.

I came to see it
whenever I could
I pushed open
the door
and oftentimes
I fell right through.

Many a time
it locked me out
and at times it locked me in
but sometimes it left the door ajar.

I wished to walk upon
its clouded tiles
to caress its warm hued walls
and to call it my heart...my home.

But
I knew a house built
in the sky
would
remain
behind my dreaming eyes.

Beautiful imagination!

do not make
assumptions
for what you know not

for then what all
I have worked for
will be bought...

handed swiftly
over to
Forget and Forgot

Once again
to be felt and sought
to be slowly
yes slowly
rethought.

I don't beg for gold no more
I beg only for the forgotten Old.

Their toothless grins
and faces, weathered grim.

"Do you remember me?"

"Why no, I don't remember me..."

I do not know who stares at me
from my bedroom door...

I do not know who seeks my
eyes in the mirror...

I do not know who waits for me
in the darkened corridors...

I do not know who has
crossed out my name
and penned in

<INSANE>

Why do children come
to hold my hand and smile?

Why do I string along
numbers just to dial?

"Hello, are you there?
Can you Help me?
I don't know who I'm calling..."

Multicoloured pills
and purposeful spills
and so many
just much
too many
ills.

"Do you know who I am?"
"Why yes, of course"
"Why yes that's who."

Fight or Flight?
Fight or Fright?

"Why am I here?
Why am I here?"

Why you're here
to stay.
You're here to pray.
You're here to spend
your weakening time
day by passing day.

and so....
I stay where
I am.

searching/seeking
for an answer
long left without reply

as to who and why
I still am.

Full of pathos!

life's passing you by
yet you think towards
an end

not of all the things that could be
but of all things that have to be done

society reins you in with expectations
yet what reigns your heart
is that obscure
little cliff
off to the side of the road
lost in the mist
and its depths unknown

much abuzz about nothing
for that far off unseen lapse

a collapse perhaps

soon enough all the nay-sayers
will raise their heads to unmovable Will
and all the gossipers thirsts will be slaked

and once again that soft-misted cliff
with precipice deep and hollow
will allow those who seek
and those who no one will follow...
a bridge.