There is only so much you can dream
Some days just pass by making
Little paper balls out of rejected dreams..
Too optimistic, too dramatic, too sweet
Too contrived and hard to believe..
It rains outside incessantly, and your feet,
Lend their spirits to your mind..
So it keeps flashing stories at you..
Stories, that would never become reality
And even if they do, they would perhaps be not as good,
As when they were stories on a rainy afternoon.
Nostalgia is overrated too.
How you hanker for a place and the time
That made that place what it is in your mind,
On return, the place has happily moved on,
It has embraced its future confidently without you..
You throw a few more paper balls into the bin
And get back to work. Try to worry about something.
If not worry, just a space, a comma for the sake of solace,
I wonder how sometimes, cynics and dreamers
Are brought to the same place!
7 comments:
I run out of words when I comment here. Makes me nod, relate to it, smile, frown, go 'aww', reflect and more.
Please never ever stop writing here, whatever else you decide. I urge you, ladybard :)
@ mandar,
Thank you. :)
I am never going to stop writing anywhere. The small breaks would get smaller and smaller in retrospect. :)
I can already feel that I would do better when I start writing on the other blogs.
Thanks for the comments!!
LOL@ Ladybard =)
Classic!
I keep re-reading it again and again.
Loved every word, from the title to the end.
Now, I am going re-read it again.
Great Job!
@ Nandan And Anon
Thanks. :)
this is very good...a poem borne out of poems
i love this paper ball of a poem .. may be the one which escaped it's paper bin fate :)
come to think of it .. there is such comfort in making paper balls of idle thoughts .. aimless happy flying things .. :)
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