I had a perfect retort,
But I chose
The less traveled road;
Held it all back
And swallowed it whole.
I have a nasty heartburn
Ever since then,
And sharp words
Keep coming back
To injure my throat!
©Aaysid
“Everything I think of now is too rude to actually say.”
Craig Ferguson
Featured image from Pexels
real time events
are no longer of value
for we are trapped
in a moment
which was never
as lucid as we
recall it to be,
the older we feel
the harder it gets
not to live
in the past
which was not
what it now
seems to be,
which never was
what it could
have been; what
it should have been.
©Aaysid
“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”
L.P. Hartley
Featured image from Pexels
I.
Fickle encounters,
A twitching eyelid—
A keepsake,
A stitch
Mistimed.
No accident.
You are a key
In the ignition;
An integral switch.
Not a glitch
In the very thing.
No accident.
II.
Peace can be found
In a loud moment
For all the noise
After some time
Tends to fade away,
As if you
Were on the road
Even when your mind
Was on the railway.
III.
Cobwebbed bulbs
Clear desk drawers
Vacant vases
No apples in a bowl
With a person
As empty as
The house.
©Aaysid
“If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction.”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Featured image from Pexels
You say that
You do not care
But it all comes untrue
When you bring
Your head back
From wherever nice
It wanders off to,
To be there for those
Who have never done
The same for you!
©Aaysid
“We only have what we give.”
Isabel Allende
Featured image from Pexels
you lounge around,
sunk into the couch
without a care
in the world,
while I am always
wrapped in a silver foil
all set to be baked;
we may have come
from similar soils,
but only one of us
knows what it is like
to live in the heat
of everyday life
only to be dropped
like a hot potato!
©Aaysid
“Not everyone can be a truffle. Most of us are potatoes. And a potato is a very good thing to be.”
Massimo Bottura
When black ink rains
From the parchment sky,
A mist engulfs the ground,
It stains the unstained raven,
And keeps the mottled brown;
Such downpour can cover up
Strange, little stories
In the old, disowned towns.
©Aaysid
“The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.”
Arthur Conan Doyle
We try not to acknowledge
How frighteningly similar we are,
Not because we have the same
Eye colour, length of hair
Or general disdain for anything
That is unlike ourselves out there,
But only because how similar
The lumps in our throats are!
Such resemblance is not only
Hugely unsettling, but it also seems
Exceptionally unfair – to see a person
In the light of their problems,
And to have no solace to offer,
No comfort to spare.”
©Aaysid
“I don’t damsel well. Distress, I can do. Damseling? Not so much.”
James Patterson
Featured image from Pexels
I find myself
Drowning in the auburn
Of the morning sky,
And it feels the way
Dry summer heat feels
Against wet skin;
I am disappearing
Into every thing
That stands out
But seems out of place
At the same time,
I know that
Everything tends to
Get worse before it
Eventually gets better,
But I cannot figure out
Where I am right now
In that timeline.
©Aaysid
Dedicated to my hardworking and selfless mother, and to all the mothers like her.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers, motherly sisters, motherly fathers, and to anyone who’s like a mother to someone! 😊❤
How can we be the same person?
I ask myself that
At least four times a week,
For I have never woken up
With wet sand in my shoes,
I have never fallen asleep
With shoes on my feet,
I have never transitioned
From sleep to wakefulness
Peacefully enough to care
About the state of my feet,
And strangely enough,
I have never been to the beach!
©Aaysid
“The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.”
George Carlin
Featured image from Pixabay
Festivals and holidays are different kind of affairs for introverts. We do not go out of our way to meet people, and the ones who make an effort to see us soon realise that they’d be making us even happier if they’d leave us to our plans. After all, holidays are all about taking it easy and doing what we enjoy.
So with only one day available to pack a good amount of fun into, I have decided to start a book I’d been meaning to read for quite sometime, and watch two movies (from a long list of supposedly great ones).Being a huge Haruki Murakami fan, I had been looking forward to watch, Drive My Car, but I couldn’t find it on the streaming service. The Power of the Dog and The Lost Daughter are the ones I shall be watching instead. I have read good things about them.
Previously skeptical, I have now wramed up to the idea of reading along with the audio narration and Audible has been great so far. I hope that Catch-22 will be an incredible experience. There’s no way I’d be able to finish it in a day though.😁
It is a little weird if you are your own muse, isn’t it? Especially if you are a critic and an idealist at heart. How does that even work? Interesting things can come out of it though. If I try to take stock of everything that I have ever written, this one poem stands out the most to me. I seem to forget almost everything that I put down on paper, but this poem is an exception. Its imagery often frequents my head and maybe that is why I never have any trouble recalling it. I hope that I shall be able to pen a happy sequel to it one day, and the new image shall stick around instead.
Outrageously Erratic 