Starlight

So here's this poem, the first two lines of which I'd written back in February, didn't know how to continue the poem, so left it there. But 3 days back i started writing again, n I finished it day before yesterday :)

So here it is-

17th Feb '10

When the soft beam of the moon
disappears behind dark clouds

and the shrill cry of the jackal                                                                                                     20/09/10

pierces the silent night
that's when he comes out
slipping in & out of the shadows                                                                                                 21/09/10
gliding like he's on ice
his whispers lost in the wind

Not knowing his destination
unaware of the start
working in the dark/dead of the night
covering up god knows what past

the leaves on the trees rustle
as he passes by
the water in the brook tinkles
as he steps over to the other side

black figures follow him
they have yellow eyes
little dragonflies hover around
scuttering about are mice

there's something in his arms
something that he's hiding
he's kept it close to his heart see,
wonder what's on it riding?

he's moving much faster now,
you can only catch a glimpse
through the trees
tearing through the shrubs,
stepping over fallen leaves

crackling through the woods
stumbling over roots
what's his hurry?
you muse

he's approaching a moonlit glen
earth strewn about
freshly dug grave
oh! the moon's blocked by a cloud

now you can hear him
puffing from the strenuous task
digging up dirt
he's finished at last

but just as you're about to find out
the real mystery
you step on a twig, it breaks
and he turns to see you through the trees

you're running for your life now
he's got a spade in his hands
but somehow you find yourself in the glen and-

you feel yourself tripping
over a loose root
you see the world turning
head over feet
you feel suffocated
you taste the earth
you see darkness surrounding you

            - Natasha :)

            21/09/10

Musings in the rain.

*Pitter Patter Pitter Patter*
The sound of the raindrops beating against the AC vent is lulling. The rhythmic thrum of the drops is like a drum beat to nature’s orchestra.
The cool night wind, the chill in the air. It doesn’t feel like September. Atleast not a September in Delhi. Not hot and humid and sultry and moist. Instead it’s chilly and cool and breezy and calm. Peaceful.

Almost midnight, and listening to the rain outside makes me feel calm, restful, at peace.
Though actually, I have a lot to worry about.
The house is quiet. Almost everyone has gone to sleep.
My eyes feel tired. I feel sleepy, I need sleep. My body’s crying out- Give me a Rest!
But I have to study. Instead, my thoughts are wandering elsewhere. The rain does that to you. Makes you think. Can’t let you concentrate. Distracts.
I can’t keep my books open for more than 5 mins. I end up wanting to do something else. Why is it that inspiration strikes when you’re nearing exams? I think it’s because you’re trying to study, you know you should, but your mind wanders off in search of more creative pursuits.
It’s cause you know you shouldn’t waste time, not watch TV, not go online, and that is exactly what you end up doing. And if not that, you delve into ‘creative pursuits’, like I mentioned before.
Like writing poems, blog entries, articles, stories.

There’s something about the rain. Always makes me wanna start my stories with a ‘It was a dark and stormy night’. Thunder and lightning are even better. I love thunder and lightning. Livens up an otherwise dreary day. Or night.

Reminds you of mystery novels, hill stations or mysteries in hill stations. The best kinds.
There’s something about hill stations too. Quiet, serene, mysterious, foggy, misty, dark, chilly, silent, inspiring, scary...
‘Will o’ the Wisp’.
Hill stations are meant to write books. Novels, stories, mysteries. Tragedies. Thrillers? Fast-paced detective novels. Not any other kind. The traditional Agatha Christie- Feluda- Sherlock Holmes variety. Not the new age scientific, biotechnology thrillers that are licked up by many I know.

Not for me. I’m happy with my Hercule Poirots, Feludas, Byomkesh Bakshis and Sherlock Holmes. Even the Five Find Outers and Dog. :)

- Natasha

21/09/10

(12:15 am, so technically- 22/09/10)

The Voice of the Rain

It's been raining continuously man...there's something bout the rain that makes you wanna do smthn creative. or just not do anything. :) hehe. I remember reading 'The Voice of the Rain' back when I was in 11th I think....it's a nice poem. Different. And I like free verse. Rhyming is hard. Sometimes, when you try to get your poems to rhyme, they end up sounding so stupid!!
Speaking of poems, I finished a poem today that I had started back in Jan/Feb. Actually 'finished' is the wrong word, it's still not complete...I'll post it soon, when it's complete....Considering I cudn't think of anything to write after the first 2 lines when I'd started writing it, it's not half bad. ;) :)..well, i guess you can be the judge of that...:)
Ho hum..what else to say? Can't think of anything right now, more later! :)

How am i EVER gonna be a writer?! *dramatic sigh*
Looks like i can be a actor atleast...:)

oh, there was this other thing I had to mention. saturday night...late night, just as I was about to go to sleep, I heard someone singing and strumming a guitar in a neighbouring house...How cool is that? Like, really...:)..Maybe we can play the guitar together..Dunno who it was, don't even know the house no., but still, its exciting! :)....I mean, it was 1:30 am, n you can hear your enighbour singing...and it's not like the neighbouring house is that close on that side..Anyway, I'm pretty sure it wasn't music playin...:)
More later. :)
ta!