As close as it gets-

For some,
It takes the form of,
a cup of black coffee,
Drowning in its scintillating,
Effect.
Knowing,
Without a doubt,
Today will be okay.

The act of,
Staring at the face,
Looking back from the glass,
And re-affirming the statement,
Today, I can.

For some,
It takes-
a little more tears,
A lot more prayer,
An occasional day off,
To feel slightly better.

And sometimes,
Putting on a mask,
Which looks like a smiley,
And says the words “I’m fine”,
Is as close as it gets.

Am I a writer?

Somedays, words flow from the tip of my fingers, sprouting springs whose waters seem to last forever. somedays, the pool dries up, leaving no trace behind ever, of the presence of water. And I wonder, am I writer?

Somedays, tears form lumps in my throat, stuck, at the tentacle of falling out, transforming into anger on pages. Somedays, they descend in torrential downpour forming cavities upon my face and dampening blank pages. And I stare at the glistening droplets, am I a writer?

Somedays, memories come knocking on the door of present. I hold the door open, only slightly, letting it walk in a sequential pattern, straight through the ink across paper. Somedays, they come knocking down my door, and my hands hang helpless to their force. They form muddles around my mind, and I wonder, can I be a writer?

Somedays I edit, most days I erase, on occasion I delete the words I had previously placed. Somedays it takes everything within to choose to write, somedays writing chooses me, like I’ve been doing it all my life- it seems. And I wonder, what It takes to stake a claim on being a writer? 

The above image is courtesy of The odyssey online.com

Day 24: Hope…

  

Yesterday, He was back,
With a stronger
Argument,
Than I could fight;
So I crumbled under,
The weight
Of his words.
Yesterday-
he was back,
And yesterday I cracked.

Today, the sun is up,
And the hazy weather’s
Disappeared.
He,
is nowhere about;
The words he spoke,
Are faded- Now.
Today,
the sun is up,
And He, is not around.

Tomorrow, he might be back
With a stronger
Vengeance than I can stand.
But today,
I’ll regain my strength,
And believe-
That I can shine.
Tomorrow,
he might back
But by then, my cracks
Will be healed.

Day 24: Strength. In response to December Poetry Challenge. I am a few days late. Let’s see if I can try to catch up. The above image is courtesy of LoveThispic.com

Still Here-

There are days when even I can’t grasp the infinite thoughts floating in my head. I reach out for one but it slips, and on it goes… It is a confusing process really. Those are the days when I spend 24 hours in my pajamas, when I turn on all the bulbs in the house, open up the windows, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, the light seeping in would lend some of its rays to my head because it had to be dark in there- I couldn’t understand a thing, couldn’t process my thoughts.

I go to my trusted friend coffee, because well, you can’t go wrong with caffeine right? Wrong… And that’s when confusion gives birth to irritation. An irritable mood whose two cures fail me miserably- coffee which refuses to stimulate my nerves to release those endorphins and sleep, which is no where to be found.

There are days when I didn’t think I’d make it, there would be days when I will think I won’t make it… But I will. I’m still here aren’t I? 

“Those days”-

There are days,
When
The weight of the burden
Of the world,
Seem to fall
On two frail shoulders;
Days-
When the effort it takes
To smile
And pretend
Seem more,
Much more,
Than one soul can bear;
Days-
When to utter
Soft words
Is a feat impossible.
When reality,
Life-
Seems like
a dark cycle
With no silver lining.

Trudging,
Sailing through
Those muddy days,
Makes one
Nothing less than a warrior.
And when all’s said
And done-
You fought,
Scar and all,
Hold your head up
And strut,
Like the Warrior you are.

The above image is courtesy of Ccm Magazine.com