Robert Frost

Are you dumb because you know me not, or dumb because you know?

rain

It’s a long journey when you have to walk from the class to the bus stand when you are walking alone. With friends the distance seems like hardly anything. But talking about this again and again makes no difference. It’s not like it’ll change anything. Anything. It happened in the past and nothing I say will stop it to happen again. When a friend starts to hurt and the remorse starts to evaporate soon enough… a time soon comes when the remorse is not felt at all. Why does that happen? I have no freaking idea. Maybe we get adapted to one thing and then we don’t feel it at all

I don’t make a lot of friends. It’s not my habit, it’s not in my power. When I made a best friend I thought I would never have to make another friend ever again.

But I have been left out. Once, twice,thrice ..so many times. Sometimes it feels as if it’s a lie I tell myself everyday I wake up and every night I sleep.

Well. I am waiting for the day it starts to make no difference to me too.. And boy I have been waiting for a long time..

(Title: Frost’s Flower Gathering)

In a Disused Graveyard

 
                                                           The living come with grassy tread
                                                           To read the gravestones on the hill;
                                                           The graveyard draws the living still,
                                                               But never anymore the dead.
                                                              The verses in it say and say:
                                                           “The ones who living come today
                                                          To read the stones and go away
                                                          Tomorrow dead will come to stay.
                                                        “So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
                                                         Yet can’t help marking all the time
                                                         How no one dead will seem to come.
                                                         What is it men are shrinking from?
                                                            It would be easy to be clever
                                                        And tell the stones: Men hate to die
                                                        And have stopped dying now forever.
                                                          I think they would believe the lie.
 

                                                                   -Robert Frost-

 

 

Here I am Once again..

It was another long day. Tiring and heavy. Got up early, roamed around the city for stuff. Came back home with my arms screaming and feet cursing. But.. I don’t mind. It was not so bad. Kind of fun when you take it as a journal in your brain and write as the smoke from the vehicles streaks your lungs.. =P

I am back home now. I have washed my face and freed my feet. I am leaning back and am breathing deep. Vacant. I am vacant. But not sad or unhappy. That counts. That counts a lot

I was reading Robert Frost on my cell last night, after reading a chapter from The Vampire Lestat (Anne Rice). It was so calm. Sitting deep into my sofa. Switching the lights off. Mom with her folks in the hall. I have nothing to say. Really. I am blank. And I just wanna hear someone talking and I would just listen and listen and listen and blend in the darkness and vanish. I have never felt like this.. And the dreams have turned strange too..

Anyways.. Last night I was listening to Josh Groban and talking to people in my head. I just know that it’s going to be so hard for me to fall in love. Just a stupid thought. I know how to block my feelings. If I die.. My body won’t be there in the tunnels.. nor at the bottom of a cliff.. it would be on a shore,

I trust the waters you know.. I trust the winds that blow to and fro…

The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to ocean –
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition. 

 

(Poem: ‘Devotion’ by Robert Frost)

Robert Frost. Him again and always

I have mood swings; we all do… I saw winds whooshing past and the wind chilling my hands as I sat and a poem came again in my mind, came and went.. Just like the gust of warm winds that used to come in the sunny days.. Came and went. Came and went..

Now close the windows and hush all the fields
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.
 
It will be long ere the marshes resume,
I will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred
 

But yes.. I am not going to explain the meaning and the context and all we do in our papers with our pens.. Some feelings are best just felt.. unsaid and untainted.. Or maybe this is one big excuse for feelings we dare not confess. Or maybe we never have the actual words. So, clad in excuses or reasons, if you may, I can just give you one other poem

I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
 
Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
 
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
 
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.
 
 

And I smile the most sad smile of them all….. =)

(Poem 1: Now close all the windows. Poem 2: A Minor Bird)