Myriad Musings

The writer’s dream

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I dreamed of writing something beautiful.

A perfect piece, in calligraphic writing.

With every t slashed and every i dotted, with no disheartened strikes and no irate ink blotches.

A piece that gently embraces the poetry of punctuation and the rhythm of line breaks.

Where the beginning, the middle and the end, mesh and flow with sing-song continuity.

A brand-new topic with wholesome ideas to sharpen the sword of the reader’s mind.

Where just the right amount of curiosity is evoked and the knotted clues unravel, in the style of ballet spins.

A train of thought, where every metaphor leads to the next stop.

An untraversed path, and the novelty it brings.

A piece that is the writer’s dream and the reader’s release, with its fresh breath of air.

I dreamed of writing something beautiful, and I ended up here.

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

Writer’s note: Chasing an ideal leaves us in limbo, as the shadow of the “perfect” is a giant blockade to progress in our path. So, forget the end product. It is the enlivening journey that truly renders joy.

This post was inspired by the fact that I put a lot of pressure on myself to write a really good post because I’m posting here after so long. Then, I realised that the writeup isn’t my dream. Writing is. 

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Poetry

Chameleon: Poem

 

typewriter image pixabay.jpg

The picketing fence of
your scepticism can’t stop
the clandestine rendezvous
of my mind and feeling

As I inscribe, I unleash
on all my readers
who are free
to take my chameleon words
and colour them
with the shade of
their tinted glasses

I’m unburdened by
the absence of meaning
that has left me
The reader follows
the hint of a forgotten trail
Carves a fresh path
making meaning

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

Dedicated to my readers. Have a fantabulous day! 😀

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Poetry

How to write poetry: Poem

Narrative, History, Dream, Tell, Fairy Tales, Book

 

You ask me
how to write Poetry
how to attain Poet status

You think
I pen my poems
like a focused jeweller
who strings careful beads
on silk threads

like an inventor
who calculates ingredients
to whip up the
fitting concoction

like a librarian
who explores all of
mind’s knowledge boats
to choose the apt sail

like a musician
who measures rhythm
tone, tune and lyric
to compose a hit

My friend
the truth is far from that

Inspiration streams
piercing through my head
like a thousand water pellets
through a thatched roof

Images, metaphors, rhymes
grip me, similar to
nature’s crisscrossing calls

I race with the ideas
that flow faster than light
Until I stop pursuing
and let myself be pursued

I become the words on the page
the nudging punctuations
the silly similes
the poignant visuals
the free-flowing verse
the tongue-in-cheek humour
the profound message

To answer your questions
I write Poetry by
letting poetry take over me
I attain Poet status
by becoming my poetry

This was inspired by and, in some ways, may be considered a continuation of
https://roshniramanan.wordpress.com/?s=art+is+born

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