"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover......"
Mark Twain
Saturday, 16 October 2010
Friday, 30 April 2010
Strange lil habits.....
Charismatic & hunky, many hearts he has robbed. His striking resemblance to Zayed Khan made many jaws drop. All the throbbing hearts eventually did fall sick, it's a nauseating habit of his.... pickin' his nose in public. Eeww.....
I knew a girl once, who walked like a duck, her long tresses hung down her back in beautiful black locks. She fingers her hair.... (yikes! that doesn't sound very nice! rephrase....). Hmmm.... She runs her fingers down their length and then puts some in her mouth. Why do people eat their hair?? Is it a delicacy down south?
Yuck!
He was our biology professor and a comic to watch, throughout the lectures, he keeps scratching his crotch. He keeps turning to his class and says, "stop giggling! What's wrong?!", not knowing the source of their mirth is his itchy dangling ding-dongs.
Eeww....
I'll not forget bout my cute 10 year old nephew, has a weird understanding of "symmetry" and "balance" too. Everything he does, he does it twice, on both sides. If there's an itch on the left, he also scratches his right. Huh..??!
My eyes remain a lil' open, especially when I'm in deep sleep, and I also smile-in-slumber, it can get kinda creepy. My boyfriend gets spooked out, he thinks its kinda eerie. Well, I can't help being me, I'm a lil strange too, you see. ;-)
He...he....
I knew a girl once, who walked like a duck, her long tresses hung down her back in beautiful black locks. She fingers her hair.... (yikes! that doesn't sound very nice! rephrase....). Hmmm.... She runs her fingers down their length and then puts some in her mouth. Why do people eat their hair?? Is it a delicacy down south?
Yuck!
He was our biology professor and a comic to watch, throughout the lectures, he keeps scratching his crotch. He keeps turning to his class and says, "stop giggling! What's wrong?!", not knowing the source of their mirth is his itchy dangling ding-dongs.
Eeww....
I'll not forget bout my cute 10 year old nephew, has a weird understanding of "symmetry" and "balance" too. Everything he does, he does it twice, on both sides. If there's an itch on the left, he also scratches his right. Huh..??!
My eyes remain a lil' open, especially when I'm in deep sleep, and I also smile-in-slumber, it can get kinda creepy. My boyfriend gets spooked out, he thinks its kinda eerie. Well, I can't help being me, I'm a lil strange too, you see. ;-)
He...he....
Monday, 29 March 2010
the right to write crap.....
i dream bout flying horses and talking dogs,
of soft sandy beaches and long evening walks,
i dream bout fields of blue flowers that never end,
of stardust in the morning dew and colorful rain,
i dream of a week that has many weekends,
a world full of happy women n handsome men,
i know none of my dreams make any sense...
i think i can heal someone by just holding their hand,
i think i can get into your heart even if u dont let me in,
i think everyone will eventually become my friend,
i dont think beautiful relationships always hv a good beginning,
i think someday love will not have a past tense,
i know what i think just doesnt make any sense....
i hope smiling becomes the latest trend,
i hope kissing in public will not offend,
i hope no one lies and everyone's genuine,
i hope football will become a religion,
i hope men will become a lil less dense .... :-p
i know my hopes just dont make sense....
i smile in my sleep n cry watching a movie,
i pretend there's only good and the bad i do not see,
i becomes obssessed easily and then go on a deaddiction spree,
i live in a bubble where i think n dream n hope freely,
i know how strange it is to be me,
please do not tell me not to live in this pretense,
even though nothing bout me makes sense.
*i know this stuff doesnt make any sense.... i hv a right to write crap n post it coz its my personal space n deserve not to be judged. lol
of soft sandy beaches and long evening walks,
i dream bout fields of blue flowers that never end,
of stardust in the morning dew and colorful rain,
i dream of a week that has many weekends,
a world full of happy women n handsome men,
i know none of my dreams make any sense...
i think i can heal someone by just holding their hand,
i think i can get into your heart even if u dont let me in,
i think everyone will eventually become my friend,
i dont think beautiful relationships always hv a good beginning,
i think someday love will not have a past tense,
i know what i think just doesnt make any sense....
i hope smiling becomes the latest trend,
i hope kissing in public will not offend,
i hope no one lies and everyone's genuine,
i hope football will become a religion,
i hope men will become a lil less dense .... :-p
i know my hopes just dont make sense....
i smile in my sleep n cry watching a movie,
i pretend there's only good and the bad i do not see,
i becomes obssessed easily and then go on a deaddiction spree,
i live in a bubble where i think n dream n hope freely,
i know how strange it is to be me,
please do not tell me not to live in this pretense,
even though nothing bout me makes sense.
*i know this stuff doesnt make any sense.... i hv a right to write crap n post it coz its my personal space n deserve not to be judged. lol
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Secrets.....
Why did you tell me,
what I didn't want to know,
It was all your choice,
what you had chose to forego,
Why did I have to hear something
you never should have told,
Why did you reveal your scars,
that you never should have showed.
Your secrets are safe with me,
They're only mine to keep.
No one will ever know,
all that you had to let go.
Like a rainbow that we see,
after a light shower of rain,
Beautiful & purposeless,
your secrets remain.
The way daybreak hides
the stars that shine at night,
Everything you confided in me,
will remain unseen and out of sight.
What if I was left in the dark,
What if I was oblivious to your past,
All the "what if's", I can't help but think,
Is that a tell-tale sign of a crazy mind,
Is it a right time for secrets to sink.
You whispered your stuff and walked away,
Oh, how fate can be so cruel,
You had no idea what you leave behind,
Or the impact of your shady truth.
'Twas at the tip of my tongue, at the meet of my lips,
your secrets that I had almost spilt.
But I held back and I continued,
to carry the weight of your news in my chest.
Though you have left and I don't know where,
My promise and my silence still persist,
But what happens once we're gone,
I wonder, do our secrets cease to exist.....
what I didn't want to know,
It was all your choice,
what you had chose to forego,
Why did I have to hear something
you never should have told,
Why did you reveal your scars,
that you never should have showed.
Your secrets are safe with me,
They're only mine to keep.
No one will ever know,
all that you had to let go.
Like a rainbow that we see,
after a light shower of rain,
Beautiful & purposeless,
your secrets remain.
The way daybreak hides
the stars that shine at night,
Everything you confided in me,
will remain unseen and out of sight.
What if I was left in the dark,
What if I was oblivious to your past,
All the "what if's", I can't help but think,
Is that a tell-tale sign of a crazy mind,
Is it a right time for secrets to sink.
You whispered your stuff and walked away,
Oh, how fate can be so cruel,
You had no idea what you leave behind,
Or the impact of your shady truth.
'Twas at the tip of my tongue, at the meet of my lips,
your secrets that I had almost spilt.
But I held back and I continued,
to carry the weight of your news in my chest.
Though you have left and I don't know where,
My promise and my silence still persist,
But what happens once we're gone,
I wonder, do our secrets cease to exist.....
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
She paints.....
Always been a worshipper of words,
Sometimes makes her believe its her biggest curse,
Through joy of reading, the desire to write emerged,
Refused to believe it has the power to hurt,
Though she's not an artist, she painted her thoughts,
As hues of words, in her amateur art,
Her style barely refined, its contours coarse,
Somewhere between the lines, her meanings were lost,
As she walked by and watched the canvas of others',
As they carelessly splash multiple colours,
They brought joy, sadness and wonder,
That feeling she felt, to her, their words were priceless.
Like other strangers who flip through their pages,
She lets them know how beautiful their work is,
When words fail, she only did what she could,
She walk away silently without a word,
Why do we dissect her every move,
Why do we analyze every single tune,
Why hurt if we can't undo the hurt,
Why is always someone we're trying to convert,
She's none but a stranger to you,
Doesn't sympathy have any value,
Pretty words and pretty poetry,
That wasn't what she wanted to be,
She painted from her heart, her brutal honesty,
Uninhibited thoughts and feeling carefree,
She flirts with words, in her loneliness she lives,
She was speaking to herself through these,
Broken canvases that she believed,
Wouldn't hurt her, but she was deceived,
Why do we fail to see, that even in
coarse creations, there's an artless beauty.
Sometimes makes her believe its her biggest curse,
Through joy of reading, the desire to write emerged,
Refused to believe it has the power to hurt,
Though she's not an artist, she painted her thoughts,
As hues of words, in her amateur art,
Her style barely refined, its contours coarse,
Somewhere between the lines, her meanings were lost,
As she walked by and watched the canvas of others',
As they carelessly splash multiple colours,
They brought joy, sadness and wonder,
That feeling she felt, to her, their words were priceless.
Like other strangers who flip through their pages,
She lets them know how beautiful their work is,
When words fail, she only did what she could,
She walk away silently without a word,
Why do we dissect her every move,
Why do we analyze every single tune,
Why hurt if we can't undo the hurt,
Why is always someone we're trying to convert,
She's none but a stranger to you,
Doesn't sympathy have any value,
Pretty words and pretty poetry,
That wasn't what she wanted to be,
She painted from her heart, her brutal honesty,
Uninhibited thoughts and feeling carefree,
She flirts with words, in her loneliness she lives,
She was speaking to herself through these,
Broken canvases that she believed,
Wouldn't hurt her, but she was deceived,
Why do we fail to see, that even in
coarse creations, there's an artless beauty.
I'm not a very good writer, but I'm an excellent rewriter. ~James Michener
A critic can only review the book he has read, not the one which the writer wrote. ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960
To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music the words make. ~Truman Capote, McCall's, November 1967
What I like in a good author is not what he says, but what he whispers.
Be obscure clearly. ~E.B. White
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~William Wordsworth
Ink and paper are sometimes passionate lovers, oftentimes brother and sister, and occasionally mortal enemies. ~Emme Woodhull-Bäche
The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug. ~Mark Twain
I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions. ~James Michener
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