For those interested in a discussion abt this poem, please read the note below nd then go on and read the poem. For those without such patience/interest, well go ahead...
there she was carrying the heavy burden
the burden of a curse so severe that it caused -
a scar that ran through her mind;
a burn that seared her heart;
a pain that throbbed her whole body,
every minute of her existence;
she cud see everything in a view afar her own stand,
she cud talk abt anything in a neutral way - no influence,
she wud criticize everything fair n square...
the cynic - she was called
she initially enjoyed it - even though
her witty words wud sting the men away
her wise cracks fell like whip cracks - causing them all to keep a safe distance..
she was independent in her own way...
n needed a lot of space...
so all this only, suited her...
she walked every path without fear
she moved through the jungle with no one near
she traversed far n wide - alone
she held a passion; a fire...
that scorched the less passionate
some looked at her in awe...
some sulked away
some tried to belittle her
none of this affected her... for she was not only a woman of intensity but of free spirit...
she was a child, a girl, a fascinated creature...
in awe n admiration of everything dark and everything fair...
she read through people but opened up to a lot she found to be good.
she was blatantly honest... n expected the same from others…
she was tactlessly straightforward...
she was blunt with a tongue as sharp as a sword...
she was loyal to the last drop of blood and sensitive when someone qsnd this...
all this was well untill she fell...
fell for the first time in her life to the beautiful feeling, the force she had always imagined, lived with, wanted...
the feeling, the force that was so familiar to her but had never been truly hers...
wen she hurt n bruised her little soul, she realised, that this was just a hint of that force tht she had always wanted... jus a mirage...
n she was not relieved by this revelation... she was even more worried...
if a mirage cud do this... if jus a shadow cud do this...
wat abt the real force that she worshipped...
wat if the real force came on her n left like the shadow did...
will she bleed to death… or will she survive n suffer…
as she thought abt this, she grew used to the fear being a part of her for eternity…
then she evolved into a symbiont or more a host to the parasitic fear tat sucked out her soul slowly…
but she was a gaiety being… an incorrigible optimist… so she did not die…
she had enuf hope n hence enuf life left in her to feed the parasite n keep herself alive…
she survived and suffered. Suffering became nothing new.
The curse of imagination, fantasy and romanticism struck her again…
She grew from a gal to a lady in the process of becoming a woman…
She moved through various worlds and met a lot of people in her everlasting journeys.
Now again she felt the presence of the force she sought all her life.
The force that eluded her always… the force who’s intensity she knew cannot stand but wanted it all the same.,,
the shadow of that force’s shadow planted a kiss on her n she was still craving…
she had been craving for the force all her life with all her might… she was a faithful pupil, a faithful follower.
/* Now the fear took a new form… there she had another revelation. The curse was not jus the trio.
The curse was also that she was never going to find a host of that force she was seeking…
There was no soul man enuf to host the force in the intensity she sought…
bcoz her curse made her (not easily impressed/unimpressed) unimpressible (unimpressionable)…
The cynic could not be convinced so easily. The curse of her imagination had set high std’s.
She wanted the perfect host for the force… For THE force. For HER force…
So no soul that played host for the force was good enuf to become HERS.
But all the same…*/
She knew the force was irresistible… it was indestructible… invincible… n she (her soul) was ready to play a whore for it all her life… because she knew all too well that it wud not stay to be her husband but haunt her all the more…
She knew it was not something to be contained or constrained but to be let free… much like her free spirit will and desire…
But she was possessed; obsessed with the force so much that she knew she was her own victim…
she would seek the force in every creek… every day of the week…
/* every possibility of a host would be analyzed and she would be disappointed. */
She would die trying to belong to it and making it belong to her… coz she knew the force was insatiable much like her ravenous desire for the force… it would not remain… but she also knew she was much too good for the force to not return…
She would survive and suffer… everytime…
For she bore the scar… burnt in her hrt… ached all over her body… every minute of her existence…
For she was carrying the heavy burden of the curse; of imagination, of fantasy and romanticism…
She was a victim of her own desire…
She was the victim of and whore for the force… of her own free spirit… but the truth remains, that so is the force… she realized… even it has an insatiable hunger for her curse, that it came bk to haunt her… all her life…
NOTE: ok... here goes... first read the red colored lines... if u read again u'll notice that the styles n context varies between the lines before and after the underlined line in blue... tats wer i stopped the first day I started writing this poem (21st Sept)...
n now include the light green lines n read the poem again... I had tried to add them in between to minimize the difference between the two days' work... and now the logical conflict arises... initially i am only talking abt the force, but later am talking abt the host and then returning to the force... which doesn suit... well, if at all wat I am trying to explain here makes sense to u, u r welcome to discuss it... else, jus another blog... :)
n now include the light green lines n read the poem again... I had tried to add them in between to minimize the difference between the two days' work... and now the logical conflict arises... initially i am only talking abt the force, but later am talking abt the host and then returning to the force... which doesn suit... well, if at all wat I am trying to explain here makes sense to u, u r welcome to discuss it... else, jus another blog... :)
PS: this is why I am generally not comfortable with stopping a poem half way one day and completing it on a later one. There's a change in the style and or context ranging in intensity from subtle to obvious... hmmpf... :-/
3 comments:
Good Picture Josh abt The CYNIC and How she fell for the FORCE She always always believed in...
i dunno what i've done here is suits to the POST..but just felt like doin...excuse it if its absurd...i'm havin trouble catching the rythm of a long poem... ;)
well she was a Cynic rite and a free spirit...she knows, atleast she knew that everthing was motivated by selfishness...i believe the force is not an exception here...there is an equivalent exchange rite to everthing...she seems to ve lived with a belief,the belief about the force that it would embrace her,give her the warmth she always dreamed of and walk with her free spirit holding hands...
but when she actually met such a force,she hapened see the equivalent exhange the force ve to offer..that gave her the scar...but still thats how the force works...coz there is alwyas an equivalent exchange...but nothing seems to stop her free spirit..she knows how the force works...she got the scar after all and evolved to be a lady...now she ll be ready to face more than the shadow that the FORCE brings along and eventually the man enough host for the force... ;) ...afterall "SHE CUD SEE EVERYTHING IN A VIEW AFAR HER OWN STAND" eh...
@leonhart: :) :)
hmmm... should rather put it across as pseudo-intellectual stuff... Not easy to comprehend with the colour contrast which again is relevant to the situation the writer(YOU)is in..n
Nevertheless a good effort... Appreciated...
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