An Eye Imprisoned

An eye imprisoned in a corner

Of ignorance

Of darkness

Of a hopeful moment

Of joy transient

Of moonrise

Of sunset

Of childhood

Of a room

Of a red room

Of the sky

Of a street.

Blank and Black.

Mysterious and Myriad.

Dangerous yet Dreamy.

With Dreams that remain unspoken.

How Snippet Was Born

And there goes another plot down the gutter. First things first, I am no writer,far less blogger. But after reading a rather interesting blog a few days back(the link of which came quite suddenly to me one fine, Facebook morning), I decided in all my confused excitement to rise. Rise to the occasion of oiling my rusted writing habits. Geared with iron determination, I log onto Blogger. Name of blog- profile-info-design-all materialize in a jiffy. Satisfied, I open my page to preview it then make my way to 'New Post'. Happy (or was it surprise?) that I could finally see Miss Procrastinator (my Other, henceforth referred to as Miss P) retreat with a vanquished air, I prepare to write.

Ideas riding on Words gallop, fly, scramble, trip and fall to reach the finish line(in this case my hand). I with baited breath wait to see who reaches first. But alas! They all come to a noisy halt in collective confusion. Miss P clucks and calls the confusion to order--- " Friends! Lend me your ears! You rush to the Hand, but to what purpose? You fly to it,knowing full well that your wings are still not grown...have you no fear of being slaughtered to pieces on the way? You will say your spirit spurs you on, but what about your experience? Do you think you have the power to make them hear you? You who do not have a sense of direction, let alone strategy or technique. Further do you, who carry her innermost thoughts, not fear that you might endanger it by releasing yourselves? (your camouflaging techniques are highly suspect, methinks)". The silence said it all. She had won. " Now I on other hand have far more interesting things for your fellas...follow me! "

They amble out sheepishly.

"She a very powerful one...that Miss P. Theres no stopping her!" whispers my other mate Miss Fumble.(Miss F).

So after days of nagging and sulking Miss P hurled at me one final question-" Fine! Write! But what will you write? How will you choose from so many Ideas? Then you have your Words, which frankly my friend, are a royal insult to that wonderful and all important thing called Expression." I promise to train my Words on Drafts first. Miss Critic(Miss C) nods in approval.

So, here I am cutting the grass, while my Words are being trained by the hard and cruel Miss C.. "She a very hard task master, that Miss C", Miss Fumble murmurs again, while I nod appreciatively.(Despite Miss C sending a new born Idea back to the pavilion just because it did not have style. Jesus!) I guess I just have to wait till they are all trained. Sigh! Till then lets hear it from Miss P!--- Muahh! ;)