Life in Scribbles

I started writing this one evening, while sitting at a seminar and feeling lost. I wanted to lay it all out in words, to comprehend my own confusion. As it turned out, I kept writing the whole day as I did not feel it was complete and thus, churned out such a long poem. I ha so much fun writing it; it is my entire thought process, combined with my love for the English language and poems.

By this time, you might have realised as I have done, that most of my poems rise out of my melancholy and are about my actions, feelings, and thoughts. But, these are also universal concepts and I hope you can see yourself in my words, relate to them and feel unburdened. If you can, I shall consider my purpose fulfilled.

Happy Reading!

There are scribbles inside me
Tangled and confused
Discrete and separate.
They look grey
Locked with nary a way
To become thoughts
That are not in knots.

Scribbling on paper
Might sort them later.
Random words, here and there
Console and comfort, everywhere.

These scribbles inside me
That I ramble and dabble
A life to breathe in
A space to breathe out
To pause and observe
To flow and feel
To love and live.

Till I find the light
Till the end is near
These scribbles should be enough
To keep warm, to be calm.
A strange way indeed
For randomness to clear chaos.

But maybe, just maybe
Stubborn spontaneity
Is the cure, to fight the need
To be rigid and sure.
Jump dance and shout
Paint sing and smile.

For-
Life, is incredibly fragile
But beautifully intricate.
Life, is lived in the details
Mundane moments and-
Scattered memories
Still, seamlessly synchronised.

So, maybe, just maybe
These scribbles inside me
Create a canvass, uniquely me.

A kaleidoscope
Of light and shadow
Colours and sounds.
A universe
Of stillness and motion
In time and station.

A girl
Of smiles and sadness
Words and verses
Of magic and mysteries
And romantic theories
Of simple realities
And unknowable infinities.

A girl
Blessed and wounded
Whimsical and practical
Passionate and cautious
A cauldron of opposites
That clash and coexist.

A girl
So singular and yet myriad
In all forms and shades
In the present and past
In the future forecast.

There are scribbles inside me
Forever long, floating along
Could be a specter,
Of buried dreams;
Or a wraith, light and graceful
Holding the hopeful
To guide the ride.
Sometimes crazy
Sometimes dry
And yet-
Always worth another try.

2 thoughts on “Life in Scribbles

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