A Writer’s Heart…

Featured

 

sue-vincent-chest

A Writer’s Heart

Choked with endless jumbled thoughts
This heart, ancient and weary
Like some stored chest of treasures
Somewhat worn, beyond its prime
Yet not worn out and passe.

Carries a lot of weight, of 
Experiences and wisdom galore
Hidden in its pit, secret stories
Of precious moments gone by
Either well-lived or idly whiled
Joys achieved, some denied

Overloaded and bursting now
The crammed chest of heart
Must now be unlocked, with
Magical keys of words, words 
And yet more words

A writer’s heart is indeed
A valuable treasure box
Unlatch its rusty door
Let the lock stifle it no more 
Let the inner voice flow out, to
Set free the riotous thoughts

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

~~~ ~~~

That was my response to this week’s photo prompt for Sue Vincent’s writephoto:

“A battered, iron-bound chest…Where did it come from? What does it hold…why does it need three keys to unlock its secrets…and where are they now?”

For Those Who Do Not Come Back

Featured

It now seems to me she will never come back. Going by the quiet on her blog, it’s almost as if she has never been here before, writing all those blog posts like possessed. There was somebody writing and if she said it was her, we sincerely believed it was indeed some Elfie writing.

But then again, in this online world, how can we be sure we really know the person expressing his/her thoughts in words. The fact is, most bloggers have not met each other personally. At the same time, we do know their distinct personality, for their written words help us peep into their soul, till it seems we have known them for long. But when our fellow bloggers vanish from the scene, they become strangers. We almost do not care. In blogging world, (our) presence matters more than absence.

That’s what happened when Elfie suddenly disappeared from the Continue reading

Blogger with a Strange Sense

The Daily Prompt:  Super Sensitive
‘If you were forced to give up one sense, but gain super-sensitivity in another, which senses would you choose?’

~~~

wanna give up my sense
to stand any kind of nonsense

wanna gain sensitivity by having
much more common sense

wanna give up my sensitivity
towards petty criticisms

wanna gain raised self-esteem
greater sense of self-worth

to attain the above, am gonna need
sight, smell, touch, hearing and…and..

mmmm…Oh O…forgotten the fifth one
whatever it is, you take it – the last one

take them all, as with memory gone wayward
no sense will now please my taste buds

oh o…now I remember the fifth one
so better leave them all with me, thanks!

the poem didn’t make any sense?
never mind, it’s fun to be nonsense

~~

That was a poem for yesterday’s ‘super sensitive’ prompt.

The next prompt goes with my mood.  An hour ago, when I wrote this poem, I was a Blogger in a Strange Land.  Outside the train station, waiting for my son’s train to come, I was sitting inside the car when I decided to kill time by attempting this quaintly senseless poem and posting it.

Indeed I am either very insensitive or else super-sensitive but always a very strange blogger who writes about strange issues while sitting in strange places.

blog-cartoon

No choice though.  These prompts appear when it is midnight here. Often, by the time I see them or get time to attempt them, the day’s almost over.  No wonder I come up with hurried strange posts.

So you see…the fault Dear Readers is not in these prompts
But something strange in me, that my posts are queer
.

(“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”
~Julius Caesar~)