Three short poems on being borderline unhinged:


What we cannot write

Begins to write us instead,

And seldom does

A good job of it-

We sound even crazier

On paper!


I respond to every rhetorical question,

And do not understand any metaphors,

I ignore the signs from the universe,

And getting jinxed is my favourite obsession.


There are no secrets

Between us,

There is nothing

To hide anyway;

We are

An open book

With pages falling out.


People think that I must be a very strange person. This is not correct. I have the heart of a small boy. It is in a glass jar on my desk…”

Stephen King

Image by Barbara A Lane from Pixabay

13 thoughts on “Unhinged

Add yours

    1. I can understand where this feeling comes from. With the passage of time, our stories become the thing of a past and our book torn and tattered, but quite full of scribbles, notes and fun doodles. 😁 It is great that books don’t have expiration dates though, where would we be otherwise? I always look forward to your insightful comments, Terveen. Thank you so much. 😊

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: