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When writing is a form of escapism

When writing is a form of escapism. On an enigmatic journey called life and its travails in sheer poetry. Embracing the front, stabbing the back. A countenance of sweetness vast. A body of lies, a mind of a traitor. Shielding shadows of the past. Covered with the veil of innocence. Wearing the mask of hypocrisy. Her closet full of hidden skeletons. Twisted tales with sheer intricacy. Living in an ignorant, indifferent bliss. Tears that put crocodiles to shame. That smile worth a broken heart. चन्द&...

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When writing is a form of escapism | scribblingfantasies.blogspot.com Reviews

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When writing is a form of escapism. On an enigmatic journey called life and its travails in sheer poetry. Embracing the front, stabbing the back. A countenance of sweetness vast. A body of lies, a mind of a traitor. Shielding shadows of the past. Covered with the veil of innocence. Wearing the mask of hypocrisy. Her closet full of hidden skeletons. Twisted tales with sheer intricacy. Living in an ignorant, indifferent bliss. Tears that put crocodiles to shame. That smile worth a broken heart. चन्द&...

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When writing is a form of escapism | scribblingfantasies.blogspot.com Reviews

https://scribblingfantasies.blogspot.com

When writing is a form of escapism. On an enigmatic journey called life and its travails in sheer poetry. Embracing the front, stabbing the back. A countenance of sweetness vast. A body of lies, a mind of a traitor. Shielding shadows of the past. Covered with the veil of innocence. Wearing the mask of hypocrisy. Her closet full of hidden skeletons. Twisted tales with sheer intricacy. Living in an ignorant, indifferent bliss. Tears that put crocodiles to shame. That smile worth a broken heart. चन्द&...

INTERNAL PAGES

scribblingfantasies.blogspot.com

1

When writing is a form of escapism: February 2011

http://scribblingfantasies.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html

When writing is a form of escapism. On an enigmatic journey called life and its travails in sheer poetry. Embracing the front, stabbing the back. A countenance of sweetness vast. A body of lies, a mind of a traitor. Shielding shadows of the past. Covered with the veil of innocence. Wearing the mask of hypocrisy. Her closet full of hidden skeletons. Twisted tales with sheer intricacy. Living in an ignorant, indifferent bliss. Tears that put crocodiles to shame. That smile worth a broken heart.

2

When writing is a form of escapism: पर अंत किसने देखा है ?

http://scribblingfantasies.blogspot.com/2011/01/blog-post.html

When writing is a form of escapism. On an enigmatic journey called life and its travails in sheer poetry. पर अंत किसने देखा है? वक़्त गिनती है साँसों की रफ़्तार. कहीं चंद लम्हें भी दास्ताँ कहलाती हैं. यादों की पंखुड़ियों में छिपे कुछ पल. पर अंत किसने देखा है? हम तै करते हैं नयी मंजिलें. कहीं राहें भी खो जाती हैं. कुछ कठिन कदम, कुछ दृढ इरादें. पर अंत किसने देखा है? सुखियन पलों में हंसी की किलकारी. कहीं गम भी दस्तक दे जाते हैं. पर अंत किसने देखा है? ज़िन्दगी न अमर थी, न है. Feed You can leave a response.

3

When writing is a form of escapism: बुढापा

http://scribblingfantasies.blogspot.com/2010/11/blog-post_23.html

When writing is a form of escapism. On an enigmatic journey called life and its travails in sheer poetry. बुढापा. बुढापा जब आता है, बस आता ही जाता है. मौत से इस्का एक गेहरा सा नाता है. बुढापे की लाठी, नहीं रही अब पास. न मरने की हिम्मत, न जीने की आस. दरवाज़े की और देखे सूनी, तड़पती आँखें. झरोकों की आढ़ में मन रातभर झांके. जो मेरी गोद में मज़े से खेला, झूला. वोही प्यारा बेटा मुझे कैसे भूला? वीराने सा खाली, गुमसुम से नयन. टूट गया जैसे सपनों का दरपन. काश यह भयंकर सच होता एक सपना. Feed You can leave a response.

4

When writing is a form of escapism: Death, You startle me

http://scribblingfantasies.blogspot.com/2010/11/death-you-startle-me.html

When writing is a form of escapism. On an enigmatic journey called life and its travails in sheer poetry. Death, You startle me. Death, You startle me. As thousand suns, ignite the dark. As raging seas swallow the fiery sphere. As the shroud of ebony caresses the mourning sky. Death, You startle me. As mystical fairies disappear from the woods. As blood drips from the lifeless eyes of a portrait. As flesh and blood mellows down to dust. Death, You startle me. As you talk of million afterlives. When writi...

5

When writing is a form of escapism: Fire

http://scribblingfantasies.blogspot.com/2010/11/fire.html

When writing is a form of escapism. On an enigmatic journey called life and its travails in sheer poetry. As I want to capture her mystical moves. As she gracefully sways to the tune of winds. Her golden body bathed in illuminance. She ignites the fury raging within. Her hot breaths giving a pleasured warmth. Dancing intensely in the dark of the night. She commands my undwindling gaze. She kindles that flame of hope in despair. Her presence melts the strongest barriers. Even in the coldest heart of stone.

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wanderingquests.blogspot.com

Reality... Go take a hike! : June 2015

http://wanderingquests.blogspot.com/2015_06_01_archive.html

Reality. Go take a hike! Sunday, June 28, 2015. TTT - Part 1. So nice to have you back. I missed you so much," she said. Outside the window, the clouds were weeping with tears of joy. To the soil, they were all equals. Just felt like writing some Terribly Tiny Tales :). Scribbled by Sherry Italia. Sunday, June 28, 2015. Saturday, June 27, 2015. And yet you ask. Scribbled by Sherry Italia. Saturday, June 27, 2015. Friday, June 26, 2015. Maybe it's something else we wanna hear. Something else we wanna say.

wanderingquests.blogspot.com

Reality... Go take a hike!

http://wanderingquests.blogspot.com/2015/07/thought-id-write-you-note-for-every-day.html

Reality. Go take a hike! Monday, July 20, 2015. Thought I'd write you a note for every day that we spend in silence. Filling it with so many questions and no answers. Leaving that book behind with you, so you could write the answers to yourself. Worry not, it only sounds like too much. Because, I have the same questions every day. Maybe, the same ones that are going on in your head. Scribbled by Sherry Italia. Monday, July 20, 2015. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). When Time Stood Still.

wanderingquests.blogspot.com

Reality... Go take a hike! : April 2014

http://wanderingquests.blogspot.com/2014_04_01_archive.html

Reality. Go take a hike! Sunday, April 6, 2014. Scribbled by Sherry Italia. Sunday, April 06, 2014. I guess Einstein was quoting Karma when he propounded every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Does that imply every emotion would get its due at some point in life? That every tear shed will be balanced with a bout of laughter? That every sudden death culminate in rebirth? That every wrong unto others would beget a wrong to you? Scribbled by Sherry Italia. Sunday, April 06, 2014. Old v/s. New.

wanderingquests.blogspot.com

Reality... Go take a hike! : Choice to be reborn

http://wanderingquests.blogspot.com/2015/07/choice-to-be-reborn.html

Reality. Go take a hike! Thursday, July 16, 2015. Choice to be reborn. I'm not dying. But it is definitely a new life a month away. Scribbled by Sherry Italia. Thursday, July 16, 2015. Since you drew the analogy with death, I will express my feelings with the lyrics of song tears in heaven by Eric Clapton:. Would you know my name. If I saw you in heaven? Would it be the same. If I saw you in heaven? I must be strong and carry on. Cause I know I dont belong here in heaven. July 16, 2015 at 9:42 PM.

wanderingquests.blogspot.com

Reality... Go take a hike! : December 2014

http://wanderingquests.blogspot.com/2014_12_01_archive.html

Reality. Go take a hike! Saturday, December 6, 2014. The world said he was lucky to have her. The world said she was lucky to have him. While they secretly questioned if their world existed. Scribbled by Sherry Italia. Saturday, December 06, 2014. Wednesday, December 3, 2014. There's the ocean of my life. And a whirlpool in my depths. Sucked so deeply into it. That the rest of the ocean. Seems nothing but a mirage. It keeps spinning madly. As do the days and nights. In concentric circles of thought.

wanderingquests.blogspot.com

Reality... Go take a hike!

http://wanderingquests.blogspot.com/2015/07/normal-0-false-false-false-en-us-x-none.html

Reality. Go take a hike! Thursday, July 16, 2015. Ties made for a lifetime don’t end in a day. Neither can they be broken by external forces. They are crafted by the universe, woven in a manner. That any distance would only make them stronger. As humans we can choose to not be connected. Skip conversations and faces and experiences. But what about that soul that constantly wanders. Into forbidden lanes of memories. What about the chance meetings, the coincidences. Scribbled by Sherry Italia.

wanderingquests.blogspot.com

Reality... Go take a hike! : November 2014

http://wanderingquests.blogspot.com/2014_11_01_archive.html

Reality. Go take a hike! Tuesday, November 25, 2014. There's so much unsaid. That mere words can't define. Messages in bottles cast away. Into an ocean unknown. Who knows if a shore exists. Who knows if they'll ever be found. Emotions from a heavy heart. Yet light enough to float the waves. Stories rushing in tides of times. And some from the lonely isles of a broken heart. Scribbled by Sherry Italia. Tuesday, November 25, 2014. Tuesday, November 11, 2014. And even through the rockiest of tides.

wanderingquests.blogspot.com

Reality... Go take a hike!

http://wanderingquests.blogspot.com/2015/07/i-am-not-your-enemy.html

Reality. Go take a hike! Friday, July 24, 2015. Scribbled by Sherry Italia. Friday, July 24, 2015. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). When Time Stood Still. Old v/s. New. Songs currently on my mind. My lips are sealed. When Writing is a form of Escapism. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 India License. I write, I click, I blog. View my complete profile.

wanderingquests.blogspot.com

Reality... Go take a hike! : April 2015

http://wanderingquests.blogspot.com/2015_04_01_archive.html

Reality. Go take a hike! Wednesday, April 29, 2015. Know how much I crave to give you my share of moonlight. Know how much my hands miss yours on a rainy day. Know every song you sing keeps playing in my head. Or that tomorrow seems so far with you not by my side today. I wish you were across that table. Or behind that wall. Or every gaze that trailed me. Or my inner voice, yours. I wish you heard all my conversations. Knew me better than myself. Wish you were the leaves that fell on me on my way to work?

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When writing is a form of escapism. On an enigmatic journey called life and its travails in sheer poetry. Embracing the front, stabbing the back. A countenance of sweetness vast. A body of lies, a mind of a traitor. Shielding shadows of the past. Covered with the veil of innocence. Wearing the mask of hypocrisy. Her closet full of hidden skeletons. Twisted tales with sheer intricacy. Living in an ignorant, indifferent bliss. Tears that put crocodiles to shame. That smile worth a broken heart. चन्द&...

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