Story

Tense

Long ago in the city of time,

Resided 3 brothers in the tower of tense.

Independently codependent and always in their prime,

They were the writers of the play of suspense.

Act 1 spoke of the do’s and don’ts,

For our characters need a guideline to follow.

An angel that both guides and haunts,

Past was essential but is now just hollow.

Act 2 speaks of the moment that is now,

Where everything we do is confined.

Live it, Respect it, take a bow,

Present is the one which is kind.

Act 3 is undone and uncertain,

And will only be revealed in due time.

Suspense is what lies behind the curtain,

A play which itself is time.

Paheli (Puzzle)

Good Morning Reader!

Weekend is here and nothing brings us more joy than a Saturday Morning.

Keeping the joy and excitement alive, I plan to give you a paheli that will amuse you and add to the randomness we all long and love in our life.

Now this paheli or puzzle if you may is going to be in the form of a Poem (Wow! As if you didn’t know :P)

But before I go on to the fun part, I have but a small request…

Comment one puzzle for everyone to solve or, state the most random thing you would like to do this weekend

Paheli

A dim-wit once said, ” I am smart,

Smart if you think I am Silly.

In this play of ours I play my part,

Heart is wiser than mind. Really?

Amidst the horde I feel cold,

While in winter I am warm.

I gave money for the items I sold,

And it worked on everyone like a charm.

Days are long and nights are short,

Months are slower than years,

I live in my 3 bedroom fort,

Where the dust is very clear.”

A dim-wit once said, ” I am silly,

As Silly is the new smart.

You are more than these labels really,

So who am I in your chart?”

~ A wise dim-wit idiot.

2 hours tale

On a small flight of about 2 hours,

I realised one simple silly fact.

This seemingly social society of ours,

Behaves such when there is nothing to distract.

A 2 hours tale…

So I sat next to this seemingly ordinary person,

Whose name is not important to this tale.

The flight took off as we acted to our version,

Unknown of the things that were about to unveil.

It took us a while to settle down and adjust,

There were no books, tv shows, or movies to trust,

Eventually the protocol came into effect,

Awkwardly two strangers decided a conversation is a must.

With no fear of coming across as boring,

No expectations or the necessity to impress,

We talked freely and kept on exploring,

And soon realised that both her and I were a mess.

Funnily we kept on talking for the entire duration,

Two travel freaks who wanted to travel cross nation,

And later as we deboarded at our destination,

It hit me. Chatting is nice but nicer is a good conversation.

Post flight…

Stop chatting and start conversing.

 

Who was that?

Surrounded by fields of golden wheat,

With edge of the forest as it’s fence,

Stood a small town with narrow bricked streets,

Harbouring nothing but suspence.

Many who went there lived the same day,

Uncertain of their own eye’s account.

Strangely enough they all lost their way,

When they met her, a mathematician who couldn’t count.

Her charm was perfect like an old magic spell,

Which gained the trusts of travellers she came by.

Her smile was innocent and meant only well,

And eyes were deep, beautiful and shy.

She asked three questions…

“Where lies the destination you are so destined to be?

For the end is similar for all. Just be free.

Do you really chase your dreams or are you trying to flee?

Careful, this answer is the key.

Close your eyes to see who you are supposed to be?

And just like that, they all ended up alone before a lake by a tree.”

No one ever saw her or heard her voice again,

Yet they felt estrange and rejoice,

Who was that girl and where did she vanish?

Or maybe she was conscience seeking a clear choice.

Story

Chapter 1.

Ageless, faceless, nameless protagonist,

Existing only in the “World of Words”.

A brief account of nature and character,

Which the writer never said but you heard.

Chapter 2.

A recollection of an event that sends,

Ripples even to days of now.

Effects, either good or bad, from those bends,

Navigates the author’s pen as it ploughs.

Chapter 3.

Trying to steer as per the story,

Whilst making choices of his own.

Decides protagonist’s fall or glory,

Authoring the story of his own.

Chapter 4.

I speak to you says your book,

You who is its writer and its lead.

Your steps is what your story took,

For everyone but the author to read.