Written by Always looking for grandiosity, although to be fair enough cutting down on it! Still learning and still aspiring; still grappling with the myriad devices of literature. I started to actively pursue writing from the age of 15 onwards; while an interest in poetry itself would not arrive till the age of 17. From then on, Milton and Eliot would run rings of inspiration around me. I write well with music; for some reason the dynamics of music help me better express myself. To be fair, I do not quite tread the same path as most; that is I do not write frequently enough to be labeled a writer. Perhaps though, that is not upto me! My writings tend to sometimes take on a far more overbearing burden, they tend to be not about the blasé intimacies of every life and relationships, but instead about the grander scale of things. In my defense, I have tried to correct that, but I suppose a distinct lack of empathy on my part may provide considerable hindrance. Ultimately though, I write in prose and poetry what I cannot say aloud. Isn’t that just all of us? Read more by this writer |
A Slight DazeThe fingers collide, as the divisions arise, a marked decline in our sullen, morose mortality
You are but a whisper, on this deceased ocean of sand, as sand dunes thrust and calmly blind, our very eyes This is that cloudy day, when all your glory dies, clandestine, she sang for us Athena! our legs trampled and born unto ash
Our words mingle and fly, like birds in an autumn sky, your affliction, surreal; for seraphs will saunter to your grainy life, and you too, will pass |
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