After what seemed like an eternity, my fifth semester as an undergraduate is finally over and the holidays are here! Regrettably, my plan to be consistent in writing a journal failed miserably – I did not write a single word more after my first entry. It is easy to say that I was too busy to keep a journal but a more accurate description would be that I was too distracted and my occasional inability to keep it brief often deters me from even starting.
However, something great happened in the middle of my semester! Two of my poems are published in Eastlit which came as a wonderful birthday surprise for me. One of them is written in a voice of a gypsy while the other talks about unfulfilled meetings. You can read them here if you are interested. I appreciate any feedback and comments that you may have! Incidentally, I did have a slightly different version of the poem, Meetings Unmet. You can read the edited version at the bottom of this post. Do tell me which version you prefer.
So what lies ahead during this ridiculously short holiday? In terms of writing, I shall edit a couple of my poems. I also plan to write an article about teamwork on Medium and I will blog my experiences here about trying to write on this new-ish platform and see how it compares with maintaining a blog. I hope to blog more often on my personal blog too! So here’s wishing my readers Happy Holidays and hopefully my next post won’t merely be just wishing you all a Merry Christmas.
“Let’s meet up soon!” So you say
with a smile framed by a
colon and bracket closing.
That smile shining with optimism
like a camera’s flash –
illuminating shadows of fond pasts.
But with all flashes,
the promise lingers only an instant.
An instance of politeness?
Of pity? Of custom?
Those four words – a stock phrase,
finalising all conversations, are
steel frames of a pendulum.
And I, the steel ball, thrashes from
euphoria to dejection in an
unspoken hope of it coming true.
Words are feeble straws I
grasp to feed the petering
flame of our conversations –
fleeting and customary greetings
on certain occasions. With a
reactionary crackle, the flame
lives an instance;
enjoys a moment’s brilliance…
Only to be broken by remnants of
those four words. In a jar, I collect
the ashes and wish that an urn
it is not .