POINTLESS?

If you die right this second
would it all be worth it?

A/n: My simple response to the question whether existence is pointless, if everything is pointless or not… 😀

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Time’s Mistress

She was Time’s mistress.
Time- her soul’s companion.
For long, she did what Time dictated,
and Time was kind to her.
She flourished and blossomed,
attracting Envy- her lover.

But Time changed and
became wary of her.
It demanded she retire:
let her hair gray and
let her beauty wane.

She refused, holding tight
onto fabric of Time’s past.
Like a lover anguished,
she abandoned all,
clutching to what once was
and was no more.

Time pitied her
as a foolish foe.
It let her stay,
it let her fray.

A/n: This turned out a little longer than I thought it would. Oh well, the picture was just too beautiful to ignore. I viewed it at
—> http://bcr8tive.com/category/photography/models/. Go check it out but beware, they have a strict copyright policy. Remember, if it inspires you to write something, please do share your work with me in the comments below! I promise to read and leave a response. 😉 😀

Toodles…

~ Anum

Illusive

Faith is a dangerous thing.
It makes you see things that aren’t there,
and it makes you unsee things that are.
But faith is not a wrong thing,
for who is to say things
that you don’t see are really there,
and things that you do, aren’t?

A/n: The image is a creation of Octavio Ocampo titled: “Forever Always”

Who are they?

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The genius in love with you,
the jock you had a thing for?
The vanilla scented drama queen,
the quiet, lonely, plain girl?
The bully of the neighborhood,
the kind-hearted philanthropist?

The leader, a great orator;
his short-sighted martyr?
The dictator, the king,
the slaves of the world?
The good, the evil,
the real in between?

‘Who are they?’
I ask.
‘Who were they?’
I implored.

‘Beating hearts,
lungs contracting,
living,
breathing,
bleeding,
dying,
laughing,
crying,
screaming,
shouting,
whispering
people.
Just people.’

A/n: The image is of a painting titled “Netherlandish Proverbs” by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. It was created in 1559. This painting is also known as ‘The Topsy Turvy World’, 😉 and in many ways fits perfectly with some of the concepts behind my humble little blog.

Also, I would just like to thank you all for reading my silly little poems and leaving behind such lovely comments. You guys are awesome! 🙂 Thank you so much! 🙂

The Quantum Blizzard

This is a queer existential dimension:
Who were mere boys a second past,
have transformed into men,
and who were but little girls,
into grown women.

Time, eternal and everlasting,
stays static, stuck on the same,
yet moving, always moving on.
‘What is’ becomes ‘what was’
quicker than you can say ‘It is.’

Infancy blossoms into youth,
and youth wilts into wisdom.
But wisdom is outdated,
so it is shunned for what
shall be ‘what is’ for a millisecond.

Life falls into death,
and death into nonexistence.
But one wonders, sometimes,
if anything ever really existed at all?

As dawn turns to dusk,
and young men to dust,
who knew, if ever, anything
really was, ‘what is’.

Perhaps, we are all shadows
of a fickle, intangible present.
Perhaps, nothing exists,
perhaps, everything just existed.

A/n: The image was retrieved from: http://coolinterestingstuff.com/is-time-travel-possible-documentary

Freedom? What for?

Caged by my own desires:
I wanted to be alone.
An angel came to set me free;
but Freedom, I never sought.

Those other birds in flying flocks
know nothing of sweet Solitude.
Chirping hymns or songs of love,
I let them fly, I let them go.

Inside my cage grandiose,
I stay perched in my place,
thinking of a magic trick
to free my heart of its restraints.

A/n: The beautiful image was taken from http://favim.com/image/219439/

Metamorphosis

I was flying so high,
up above the sky
when you pulled me down
into the sea to drown.
Care you not for my dreams?
They are obvious, or so it seems.

I was a free bird with a wish
and you turned me into a fish.
I knew nothing but swimming around,
dreaming of a sky above ground.
Soon, I came to terms with the sea,
but then you shaped me into a bee!

I had been a fish, silenced,
never a sound had I uttered.
Now, my own buzzing
gave me a headache so killing.
Flower to flower, I moved about.
Sick of myself, internally I did shout:
“Oh Providence, the cruel, you gave me nothing!
I wish, for once, you would change me to something
deserving of my Greatness
for the world to witness.”

A sinister Voice called back,
which I heard, scared, taken aback.
“Thy greatness deserves to complain as much as thy can
so We shall turn thee into a man!”

Circles

Everyday, you dream,
you dream of one thing.
You wish and wish and pray,
you pray for it to come true.
God tests you and tests you again;
finally, opening doors towards it.
Then, you realise a new dream,
forgetting gratitude,
complaining of His silence.
So, He tests you again.

Demented Reality

Sometimes, it seems everything is perfect,
you’re there, I’m here, the world- beautiful.
Sometimes, it seems anything is possible,
waterfalls- upwards, birds flying backwards,
time standing still and us- everywhere, everything.

Then reality creeps close from behind,
assuming the shape of a tyrant, demented.
Waterfalls- downwards, birds flying forward,
time moving on and us- nowhere, nothing.

Thoughts and Dreams vs Words and Reality

Words may overpower your message-
Incoherence yielding no wonder
Let the thoughts prevail
and let words falter
for there is no wonder in words
only false charm and dignity.

Dream, for dreams are meant to be dreamt;
broken by reality only if reality prevails-
let reality falter and dreams rise.
Moments of dreamt happiness shall suffice
to break lifetimes of real miseries.
Dream, for broken dreams make
the best of songs and the best of poetry.

Madness

Such profound madness,
she lived in the midst of books.
Pages and pages of stories,
stack upon stacks of lives.
Her own unbearable, she delved
into the depths of others.

Her room filled with stick figures,
their pins protruding out.
Her heart filled with malice,
its magic spilling out.
Nothing to want, she believed
in the destruction of others.

She lived in her own mind,
chaos spitting fires.
With such calm dexterity,
her life she spent.
Smiling at all, she retreated
inwards to battles unknown.

They say: To everyone their own
skeletons infinite, worries unbound.
There is madness in every soul,
broken shards of every heart,
insurmountable pain in every brain.
There is madness everywhere.