Day 184: Take Homes

The idea of take homes is simple, something you get carry back with you. something that stays in your mind for sometime as reminders of something gone. They are the mellow tunes you listen to, when you are driving back home or simply driving to places unknown. They are sunsets in a bottle kept somewhere in your mind, they are fresh air and a glass of drink kept somewhere. They are writings on the go, on sides of napkins & pages unknown. Till much has changed in the definition of what is now. We will all have these travel blues, these extra suitcase of memories to which I have written earlier. At journeys end our realities keep calling back & the take homes remain. I am never giving them away, and as we repack and hit restart we keep them close. To the take homes we get to sometimes keep, our great days & sometimes in our good night sleep.

Take Homes
Sometimes the take homes just fit in your head
They are larger than life, to fit elsewhere instead
Experiences and memories that we get to carry home
That are bags we love to always carry along

I have written to suitcases filled with memories
Things we let go and the ones we always get to keep
And the new ones we made even if for a day
The restless reminders of things you took away.

When you travel back from places that seem familiar now
Where much has remain unchanged, unforgotten somehow
And you take long walks as the sun slowly sets
Your journey reaches the end, as you move on & hit reset

To those that will matter in the scheme of things
In knowing we had our moments, our little losses & wins
I am keeping this feeling , I am never giving it back
And find my take home messages while you slowly unpack

Day 183: Wishing Wells

While walking past many a things we wish for many days, I like the metaphorical idea of a wishing well. Someplace where we draw wishes, some are short term and only about the day and some long term. What is most interesting about them is that a lot of these wishes are drawn from memories of something else, something good or bad that we have lived. We have all had these realities in life in no uncertain terms and we have all lived through these memories. The concept of "wishing well" explores this need to look back at the things that come & go, between things we have but keep longing for in our mind and sometimes about those that have never left our side. I like to think that even though we wander, our journeys are more than just round trip pins on a maps, more than to(s) and the from(s). For now I look at those wishing at these wishing wells, these resting places of memories as they create a new day. I wish for stories to write about some nights and this probably reflects one of them.

Wishing Wells
Find me more stories to tell
As I sit across from the wishing well
And wait for time to draw memories
Wishing for wishes to turn to realities

We are drawing from the bag of things we heed
Looking desperately at best for the things we need
In between the memories that have come & gone
And wishing by the wishing well, for the ones we long

Travelers of destinations unknown, take a pause
While being stuck in between the to(s) and from(s)
Write in your travel diaries of stories of the day
Looking for memories that were kept on a page
                                         & yet never meant to stay

We are all wanderers at best, wishing for whatever maybe
For quiet sleep some nights & waking up to no mysteries
We draw from wishing wells, of memories we get to keep
And the ones we know we have lived, in no uncertain realities.

Our wishing wells are sometimes larger than the sea
                                                            longer than most journeys
They are unconfined, unbound in their ways, they are whatever
                                                                  we wished for them to be.

Day 182: Little Victories

Each day of the week while going through the cycles of things that may be right or wrong, that may speak to you or not, I am amazed at randomness I find in people. Some who will ask of things to be written down and some who in quiet moments will let your mind do it for you. There are constant reminders of kindness I sometimes find among people, random acts of familiarity that are often hard to define. As I finish half a year of poems today (182 of 365) , I write to the idea of these little victories. The meaningful adventures are the ones that you get to pick & choose, and it will come to you when you least expect it. For now I wish that we have many of these & some warm reminders of what we get to keep. We are writing from corners of the room some days where the spotlights don't hit & yet they will confide in you as thoughts come & go, these are still our little victories.

Little Victories
If the world decides tomorrow to catch up to me
Ask me questions about my motives by which I live
There will be more than one time in my memory
When I will celebrate my wins & little victories

I have written about things you may never see
Some that are lost in wake up calls & in between my sleep
And while I argued somehow with my mind
About things that in my poems are the ones you would find

Here's to every little thing that adds up someway
Small thoughts that are kept & stowed away
Random reminders of kindness that follow you home
And the little victories you get to have,even if just for now

Half a year's worth of poems have been written today
Some with no sell by date are kept somewhere in me head
No maps on some adventures, just words that guide me home
Sometimes just lyrics of a familiar song

From corners of the room some days where I might write
In anonymity still you will find that my words will confide
Some days I will write of what the world needs from me
My words will find meaning, as I find my little victories.

Day 181: In Writings

I sat there for quite sometime with a small glass of wine at the bar, as a gentle shower brewed outside. On the inside sitting comfortably I spoke to strangers who in time became friends and as I sat there, I felt the need to scribble writings on napkins as I sometimes do and before I left the table I slipped it underneath the empty glass. Our writings are what are visible sometimes, while the writers don't need to be. In Writings is exploring the things we get to build from scratch sometimes, the inspirations and biases we sometimes write to and the possessions we gain & lose in our pieces. It is important to hit restart once in a while down the road & I think in writings we find our small escapes. For now I leave with a thought & a piece of writing that I hope I get to reinvent in different ways as you read it. In writing I came as simple as I can be & sometimes I write to this simplicity.

In Writings
I left a poem on a piece of napkin under a tall drink
Hoping to find wonder in the joy of little things
I will sometimes write to the things that are undefined
Those that write stories in my head & yet are hard to find

A thinly veiled night eludes my mind,
Hides behind curtains of a well lit room tonight
And as I sit and write stories on the floor
I write with an open mind, behind closed doors

We are storytellers with no possessions of our own
We build from scratch everyday, not knowing where to belong
In adventures that fades, and the mystery we get to create
We leave with a writing on twitter walls & napkins alike, as our days fade

We are on a positive note, we are short stories some night
We are every reason why sometimes we refuse to turn off the lights
I find myself in random acts of writing, for I leave with just that much
I write to the stories on the wall & parts of your mind in writings I touch

Day 180: Quiet Thunderstorms

As I stood by the glass wall window in my hotel room , it was quiet indoors as I saw flashes of thunderstorms outside, The lightning arc that touched the ground that didn't exist and then was lost in the sea. I find these oddly reflective of the quiet thunderstorms in our own life, they are moments of inspiration, of fights, of finding resolve and sometimes finding a reason to be true. And just like the thunderstorms they come and go at a moment's notice. In this piece I express the idea that these quiet thunderstorms, moments, passionate affairs with life are caught sometimes in attempts we make at writing them down somewhere. Here's hoping to capture inspiration in a flash, adventures in a paragraph and motivations that in words sometimes slips away.

Quiet Thunderstorms
"Hey Jude" played the last song in my head
At 3 Am on a Monday morning and while on my bed
Writing down this day or next who knows when
The days transitioned over, yesterday came to an end

I stare through my window outside, the winds I cannot feel
My glass walls give me a glimpse of what the world reveals
And then quiet thunderstorms that roar over the sea
As the day passed on and slipped into the night to be free

Adventurers of the day somewhere, somehow
Find a reason to be a misfit, be an adventurer just for now
Be part of a story that you will remember and write
And yet define your own roads, come back for a better fight

Preludes to this piece keeps slipping my mind
I have not given into summaries, there is too much to unwind
Let me learn as I keep my feet firmly on the ground
Let me create my own adventures, there is enough to go around

Quiet thunderstorms that wage wars into the night
That have yet to find sleep, find solace in between the fight
And to some quiet moments in our very own day
I will write in the very hope,
               that their flashes are captures in writing someway

Day 179: Jet Stream High

Every time I travel it brings me to this need to wander, to travel, to meet, to express, to learn, to understand, to believe, to lie and to tell the truth, to win and to sometimes lose. As I travel early morning today, I am caught in between these tiny bits of me that feel more compulsive to write about these wanderings. After all we are travelers in between places, and sometimes we take trips just to get the distance we don't experience from ourselves in real life. It is the new that gives us the sense of space we need sometimes. I consider this experience as being on a Jet Stream high, being on an airplane mode in my own mind.

Jet Stream High
Once in a while we wander among the clouds
We hide behind a cape and are covered in a secret shroud
We write with thousands of feet below & in between the skies
And yet the simple things I write sometimes are invisible to my eyes

I am on a Jet Stream high, chasing clouds to no end
I write to the sleeping night outside with the company of my pen
I am a chaser of no destinations, just early in the day
I have been looking for pages to fill on my travels someday.

We are strangers on a flight at best, we are chapters sometimes
We are stories that keeps moving, that are personal & yet not mine
Travel when you can, and in between breaks we will write
We will put it down somewhere, our wins & losses with every fight

My wanderings of the day, my summaries somewhere
Things I take a chance on , in more than a game of truth or dare
I am a storytellers who takes momentary wings, I write boundless in the sky
I am a traveler who gets to wander, sometimes on a Jet Stream High.

Day 178: The Human Condition

I sometimes realize that our greatest fears are probably about the past, they are not always about how things are going to be, but rather but how we remember things that happened at some point in our lives. The he/she in stories we write has annotations attached, has notes we keep in our mind about good or bad, and right and wrong. The human condition is multi faceted and can extend in so many directions, as for now I choose to write about this fallacy of being trapped in interpretations and situations of our own head. We keep growing into and out of them. I write this in conversations with friends who have felt this way, I want us to learn better and come out stronger at end of days. I like the idea of skipping a page in your diary sometimes, not writing everyday. I hope we learn, I hope we draw from the human condition.

The Human Condition
When there are times unchanged, in between mistakes that get made
Hopeless and hapless sometimes, seems but a part of your day
I want you to know about meanings, and about interpretations
About finding yourself among things, as such may be the human condition

Where you are troubled by things you cannot change
When it all seems too hard to remember, to simply rearrange
Our worst fears sometimes are the memories we cannot forget
And sometimes simpler still living in constant regret

I want you to know you will fall when it may, and you will rise again
When needed most you will find solace sometimes even in pain
In better days and worse days you will treat them alike
You will not plan for things, you will take them, come as they might

We are all reminiscent of things in the past, of those lost and found
Things that lets us be free and sometimes just memories that keep us bound
A diary writer's diary calls everyday, & yet a page you cannot skip in time
Such is the human condition, we will move on, keep writing,
                                                                          you on yours as I do on mine.

Day 177: Perfect Blends

This one is dedicated to two of my best friends, ones who have been a part of my extended family over the last one year. This summer has been filled with goodbyes and farewells which come and go and the heart grows fonder of the ones I lose to time, and distance. I sometimes smile at the little souvenirs they had in their house about the perfect blend, because I felt it was about a blend of people, memories and things we create together. They left me with a box including many of these and so I have included them in the theme of things I could write about today. We all make journeys sometimes, some begin with stories at a dinner table, some at odd hours of the day. In confessions and stories I shared with them, and those that they have shared with me, I think my family that I chose grows two people less or maybe just placed somewhere else. We are not attached to pure nostalgia, but we like to believe it finds us somewhere when we are having tea some weekend and while scrolling down our contact lists. Travel safe my dears, drive safe and take breaks; they are important to reflect, remember and carry on.

Perfect Blends
When feelings are so fresh in your mind
When the driving car hasn't even been faded from your sight
The street lights are still the same & yet the night seems changed
We are warm reminders of that which has remained

Dinner tables tonight, just for the three
And some thoughts & memories that keep running free
Things we talk about sometimes seems like fiction to me
Sometimes they are just the way they are , let them simply be

I will lay myself bare some night, the walk back seems long
And there will always be just a few who will travel along
We will write to them , we are perfect blends of who we are
Kept bottled up some days & yet meaningful for afar

From Mr Roger's tales, to stories on the stairs at night
From confessions of every love affair & solace in some fights
We are dim lights that surrounds the night & puts it to sleep
And some memories are left on dinner tables & some that we get to keep.                                                                  

Day 176: Built You

We are all guilty of building the other person in our head. Making them special sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. These are not just biases we hold for special ones in our lives, these maybe for friends, families and sometimes people we have worked with and with whom we may have spent a lot of time. This idea came to me when a friend of mine described how difficult it was to get over the idea of someone, it was not the person in reality, but the idea of someone in their head. Like it or not we all this do, though we may not pay attention to it, we like the idea of imperfections we don't need to notice and things we love to create. I think there is nothing wrong with our versions, as temporary or permanent they may be in our mind. Hence today's piece is written as a project and hence the name "Built You". For those who sit with empty canvases, keep sketching, keep building.

Built You
I have built you sometimes & somewhere in my head
Whereas all I would rather be, is myself instead
Made you imperfect & yet special in your own way
Some days in my imagination, where no one had
                                                         anything to say

We have all drawn fictions in the stories we write
And then had some biases for the other side
For the little things are what makes us this way
So I built you from scratch and in my head everyday

We all do the same, we write to and of people in our lives
And change ourselves just a little bit & stay for a while
We are caught in between transitions of the mind
Where we may have chosen to remember, & what we get to find

No we are not complaining , we are pieces at best
We fit with no instructions at hand, we are a restless mind's unrest
I write this like any other I built the meanings in my head
As we dismantle memories, and starting to build again instead

As we come together or fall apart,
We built you & we build again right from the start

Day 175: Até Mais(Till we meet Again)

In the next couple of days a lot of my friends will be flying off to different places, or taking longer than usual drives. They will do so to make sense of what is important to them at this point in life, some to find research objectives, some to take on things of more personal nature and some who will invariably be acquainted with deadlines that they set themselves. I have always found goodbyes to be difficult, mainly because they sound so permanent so rigid in their own way. The rescued pieces are the memories we keep from days together, from experiences and the impressions that we leave on each other. For now Até Mais is for two of my friends who fly back to Brazil today, and to the ones who take journeys on the coming days I leave you with the same hopeful note "Till we meet again"

Até Mais
One by one we will all leave for a while
We will leave warm memories & sometimes a smile
We are never too sure of what is to be said, & to write
But then there will never be sure of real goodbyes

Till be meet again my friend, till we write to life so changed
I will think of the little reminders of everything that has remained
Warm hugs still feel the same way at the end of days
And sticky notes that remind you of simple things in simple ways.

Até Mais till the last song I played on my computer fades
We are in between the clouds,on flight seats & hidden in shades
Some families we get to keep, we are bound to them in time
It is the ones we keep up with, who have had us unconfined

I reclined my chair just a little bit today as I stare at the walls
I roam around the empty roads and the sometimes empty halls
Até Mais my friend, we will write stories again and share time
For now you get to keep whatever your memory hold
as I kept what is mine

Day 174: Of Great Things

Good things are born out of compassion for what you want, I believe great things are born out of obsession. They are not mutually exclusive but if you have to be compassionate , be that beyond measure. I think of new ideas being born everyday , some on the crust of the old, and some detached and lost somewhere while some edging up to becoming something new. I believe this search for great things in our ideas comes from an underlying obsession, the need to see, the compulsion to believe. Though we may fail to create beauty in everything we see, I like to believe we have to at least get fascinated by the idea that we could. Over the last couple of days I have seen good things transform and change, I have been humbled with what I read and then taken a step back and asked a better question. Why is something better than something great, what makes a method great? I have no doubt there are many who have done amazing things this summer and some have been lost in the entirety of what they have achieved.

Of Great Things
Of Good things and great things I sometimes write
Things I can't let settle, sometimes we must put up a fight
We are born everyday in the back of our head
Ideas let free, on pen and paper instead

In great obsessions I find solace at times,
Why we are never too old to dream, never satisfied
We are yearnings of a long day, we are glass too tall to drink
We are drunk on meaning today, we are pushed to the brink

I dream of good things and then greater things
I have dreamt of closing my eyes and sometime taking wings
In believing and asking the right questions at time
About not knowing how to complete a sentence with a rhyme

I have failed at many things, I have been inspired by almost all of them
I have learned how to carve a place, and ask the questions instead
Be impractical for once, the bigger questions may come & go
Be the great things you read and write, among the things you already know

Day 173: Rushed

Today all I think about is the fact that I am running on a deadline not for work, but rather for getting a poem completed. There are some deadlines we always have, the ones that others impose and then there are a few that I feel we impose on ourselves and hope to follow. They are similar to our new year resolves the only difference is we might actually keep these. Rushed explores this idea of need for something when we want it to happen. I think my personal experience with getting this piece across to you before the end ends, speaks in many ways to the emotions that are attached to it while writing. For now the things that are held up by loose pages are still neatly bound, in poetry

Rushed
Two minutes of your time and seven minutes of the day
Is all that keeps me away from wherever you are today
I am writing myself down in days, in small summaries
Trying to write back to back, covers of myself & what I can be

Rushed are my feelings some days, about what I can or cannot say
What has always been a part of my mind & kept bookmarked someways
No list of topics that I have defined, no cookie jar to choose from
No favorite playlists that rhymes with the day, and sometimes not even a song

As I run around in small attempts to make sense of whatever can be,
I am hoping the pages reflect the part of you, and a little part of me
We will write the stories together, we won't need calendars on hold
We will be "live" everyday, reminding you of things untold

I am often in hurry in my world, I feel needed everywhere
But all I want sometimes; is to to catch a breath somewhere
We are rushed away like many things, and yet meaning we always find
We are bookends that close chapters for now, we are moments that are hard to bind.

Day 172: To, Casablanca

I love the idea of meeting and talking to strangers, though I probably wouldn't be the first person to start, but if you start I assure you I will give you company as needed. The idea of learning something new, whether it is a new language, a new story, a new culture, whether they are stories they might never share with anyone else or where they are stories you share with them. I made new friends in Morocco over such strange encounters and this piece is dedicated To, Casablanca,a city attached to more than just movies and plays, more than just fictions and tall tales. Strangers of the night are about drawing between what remains fiction and what takes flight into reality, here's To, Casablanca.

To, Casablanca

Strangers on the road, we travel as we may

We are never held too long, we are no where to stay

We are checked in for just a while in your memories

And check out as time flies by & we let our thoughts 

                                                                      run free

To, Casablanca with the words that I write

About every time we won or we had simply lost a fight

We are the etchings on the sands and on your beach

There is so much to learn, if you are willing to teach

On the long shores and beaches I cannot see

I will write letters to you, and then tell tales as it maybe

To the walks and drives, I simply cannot take,

To fantasies and stories, we get to build in our head

We are temporary escapes, from the world where we stay

To the places we build in conversations, that change anyways

Strangers still, we will write stories that are yet to be

In places that I have yet to travel, where I am still awake at 3

To, Casablanca tonight, I will write to you if you read

I will write to the many worlds we live in, and to words if you need

Day 171: Some Days

My friends have traveled today, and some of them still are in long journey on a plane and some bus rides and train rides alike. While some go to familiar places, some explore parts of the world they have never been to. The similarity though is the same need to travel, to create new memories or live out ones that we wish to create. Some days are like sweet nostalgia that we go back to many a times, for me personally perhaps, it is sharing cups of tea with old friends at their rooftops and not worrying about the day. I guess we have all sweetened memories over a period of time, we have let them sit and mellow and no matter where we are, some days are constant reminders of starting points and flash backs. Here's to those days, and the travelers on their journey, good luck and safe travels.

Some Days

Some days are all about going back

To places in our head, for a moment that we lack

We stole our place in time from time itself

We chose to be indifferent, chose to be ourselves

Some odd day when old memories are under repair

They will remind you with odd cups of tea on an old chair

And the glimpses of old friends seem to come & go

The things you don't need to remember, you simply know

Of course we are more than Facebook likes & tweets on a wall

Cushioned promises somewhere, we hope to break every fall

The prepaid cards at nights and long conversations to no end

Ice cream scoops we shared at the footsteps and with an old friend

I write to new beginnings sometimes, 

                                      some that don't always make sense

But they are better than choices we make some days, 

                                    the reasons we would rather pretend

Unsolved mysteries remain at the back of my head

Did we learn how to in time, or simply choose to forget?

Travelers on the shores, build again what you want to see

Sit on edges that simply dissolve & yet they leave reminders so free

We are all like sugar, we dissolve at the tip of our tongue

Some days may have gone by & yet in our mind they are always young.

Day 170: Entangled

Today's writing came as a lecture from a you tube video that a friend of mine had sent me earlier today. The idea of being entangled particles in the universe, so much so that if we change the state of one there are others that will change state too. Einstein referred to these as "Spooky actions at a distance". Though the theory is beautiful in their own way, it made me think about how entangled our actions are sometimes and not just with ourselves but with others. Are our memories real if they are different versions to different people, and are the little imperfections that which makes them special somehow. Hence this late evening writing as I head out for a cup of tea this late Friday, I may not be able to reach you in time today, but I hope my words do someway. My entangled mind for now writes.

Entangled
Our lines of  sight keep calling sometimes
We are out of our comfort zones , out of known lines
Looking for a sunset, while sitting on the ground
We are walking quietly, with the whole world around

Entangled my thoughts this evening that survives
That lets me write of little things , the ones for which
                                                                             I strive
And though much may fall through between hours of the day
I write to those things that appear to be unchanged

Entangled your heart sometimes, sometimes your soul
And sometimes just your memories, they never seem to grow old
Do we remember the same things, or changes here & there?
We are entangled in shared nostalgia, in things that disappear

These lines on a tired Friday evening, far from a computer screen
Are to those who find meaning in the simple things that lay unseen
Entangled stories of many , for those whom I have written and I will always write
I leave you with a sense of wonder, a warm sunset and my entangled words tonight

Day 169: Silver linings

It is not about cloudy days that makes you think of silver linings, it is when normalcy of life bothers you from time to time. I always thought that some days you can't limit the length of what you write because you are not done telling a story yet. It is like an obsessive need to finish something and that which makes you believe that writings are incomplete. Sometimes this leads you to think that we are going in circles between our own words. We are repeating our songs,and starting stories we may never finish. A friend of mine once told me what bothered her most was finding a form of stability that doesn't let her feel alive anymore. Though I may hope our need to write and read is insatiable, we are all faced with decisions everyday, with cloudy skies inside our head, and a mellowed day. Whatever be the case I like to write to the silver linings we find, in endless poems or locked in 140 characters sometimes. We are expressions of the these silver linings every single day.

Silver linings
In my well found and groomed realities
Find me reasons to dig deep, beyond what is buried
                                                               surface deep
In layers of doubt that may sometime bother me
That may create a version of fiction that seem
                                                 more real than reality

Our strategies in the making some days
Our broken pieces that don't need to be fixed just yet
I dance with you in the dim lights, we slow dance away
We kept the music playing loud, inside our head

We have all been mellow at times, cloudy on the inside
And somehow found more reasons to simply lose our mind
Some who will read in between the lines, tell me what they feel
Let me write to you in poetry, let me find your words,
                                                             the ones you don't reveal

I know of things that just disappear
While we write of days, about months and sometimes years
We deserve longer poems, longer endings some nights
We are chasing monsters under our bed, with words & a flashlight

In more than one mystery, we are our worst and best,
We are morning naps with closed eyes, as we lie on our bed
We are start of stories that we write, we are in the process of defining
What limits us some days, and yet why we chase our silver linings.

Day 168: Some Hopes

Some days are like opening a fortune cookie only to find something that may seem too obvious to miss. And as we neatly fold and sometimes keep that piece of paper with us, we reason and bargain with ourselves some hopes. I think I have seen this grow and fade among people around me. I have learned that our worst mistakes and best ones stay with us, but also help us grow from time to time. It is strange when we recall them, and every time it just feels a little different. I am hopeful of things, though there is always a random chance, a probability, I would like to believe that biases or chances do occur, and hence we keep these hopes. This one is dedicated to some of these hopes, the different kinds that inspire people to be who they are every single day.

Some Hopes
Sometimes the best kept secret in our heart
Is walking straight when we don't know where to start
Everyday starts out just the same , the doors close behind
I walk out and away from home, I claim this day as mine

Words that will hold meaning, will change again
We are in a constant rhapsody that drives us insane
Some hopes are about constant reminders of who we are
Of warm places in our heart, some memories locked in a jar

Our daily treading, our adventures still, guide us just so far
After all we were the ones asking to know, who we are
Some summer days when the day seems long
When you are tired between the pauses between your songs

We are kept on our toes, we are restless at best
We figure out things just a step at a time & leave the rest
Sometimes we just walk down steep slopes
We change what was needed and save ourselves some hopes

Day 167: A little more

The toughest thing sometimes is not the actual writing, it is about knowing what to write about. It is about drawing from little moments, people and places and knowing what to summarize in just a few lines. I have often found myself lucky to be able to connect to people from all around the world, people from Italy, Spain, Morocco, Paris, Australia to name just a few. Amidst all of these experiences I share with people I have realized all we need is a little more. Some who have planned trips to new places, some who are looking for better places to make a mark and some who are simply just attracted to a change. This "little more" of who or what we are and situations and what guides what we get to be every single day, everywhere on the planet. And I write this to my friends, fellows, the beloved ones I come home to sometimes on a phone call or text messages alike. Just a little more is never too much to expect.

A little more
I wonder and wander early in the day
What a little more would look like, what would it say?
Will I change directions to find what I need?
Will I question myself at best and hope the world pays heed?

There are some who have believed that the world will change
Because they were never meant to be stuck in meanings between a page
Changes come just a little more, every single day
And there are those who have taken a chance & walked their ways.

A little more of who we are, and what we need to be
Is about letting ourselves know of the changes we make, and the ones we need
We are inspirations on hold, traveling the world today
We are story book pages glued together somehow, assembled from miles away.

Be someone who needs to know of the things that come,
Who takes control of things in their own way, too much has yet to be done
We may have been summaries of the things we needed before
But never be satisfied with just life, living is always asking for a little more

Day 166: Cloudy

The middle of the day seems a little more nostalgic when it is cloudy outside. And I am pushed out to the memories of making paper boats that sail on streams and puddles and somehow just lead their way. I was fascinated with water since I was a kid and as a grown up as I study hydrology, and ever more so often more fascinated by the clouds that fill the skies. That which may cause a day to be dull seem like thick curtains before a sure sunrise and those who have missed the lights and sounds of such a show, I wish you find more cloudy skies.

Cloudy
As it pours outside, my window pane
It is reminiscent of the wet breeze, reminders of rain
I look at the midday, and feel cloudy
When all in hidden to the open eyes & my days are on retreat

Cloudy still the skies outside, and yet my pages get wet
As we write about the rain, that has not happened yet
We will draw out our raincoats, to fight it off somehow
And take shelter , when it is needed for now.

Something about the skies, are warm reminders of home
When you sit with everything and in the quiet you don't feel alone
Till the story writers of a wet summer day, finds its place
Till there is more to puddles that you avoid, footsteps you can
                                                                             no longer trace

The rain may wash a lot away, but I follow where it may trail
The washes and splashes and the memories of a rainy day
For now I write not to that which may pass, or to consequences still
Cloudy outside and in memories, my words write & my mind fills.

Day 165: One Step at a Time

I have a lot of friends who are moving into new directions this summer. Some have had moved into different jobs, some into different countries and many are just starting new from scratch. Whatever be the case I hear the anxious phone calls and texts as I calm myself down among the chaos that surrounds life sometimes. I guess we are all attached to this sense of wonder that makes us nervous. We are brave when we least expect and among those least expected sometimes, because we need to it. So here is to those who are starting their new jobs today, who are applying for new ones, who are moving on between courses to new semesters, who are taking a stance and taking a break sometimes. Some are moving away to new countries to complete their work and some are exploring because they can't seem to satisfy their sense of wonder. In whatever be that case I hope you keep moving forward, one step at a time, breath easy and be amazed as often as you can.

One Step at a Time
There is a secret to solving some problems some days
If you let me I will tell them to you anyways
Or would I write in puzzles, hide then in writing somehow
Just take a step, one step at a time for now

Breath easy among the things that worry you sometimes
There are broken pieces everywhere, not all is yours & neither mine
There are things that will put you down some days
But look at what you have achieved, that has clearly come your way

I wonder if the wind makes up it's mind where it may flow
Or does it just flow everyday not knowing where it needs to go
I am not concerned with plans, they don't always make sense
So I push myself to the best I can, as do you in the end

Take a step further away from this, make the changes you want to make
Don't be nervous about starting from scratch, be new, be amazed
When I sit down to write a new poetry, everyday I look for a new rhyme
And I hope you finding your footing, & as you move on just one step at a time.

Day 164: Daylight

Summer weekends are sometimes about just sleeping in late, and still working in your bed. Sipping juice out of a cup and if time permits writing to the heart's musings. I keep wondering about time a lot, how as I get up and start my day, a lot of my friends fall asleep somewhere. And even if I get sunlight later or before they do, I want to share my daylight with just you. Some writings come from simple realization while scrolling over contact lists on a Saturday afternoon and this seems to be just one of them.

Daylight
From the daylight over here
I will steal some sun just for you
I will send you summer's embrace
To cheer you up when you are feeling blue

For I have got no reason to show
The colors on the wall I no longer know
My words will draw just what I share
And tell you of my days under constant repair.

From the summer days outside
I will find a shade, a place for you to hide
Cause some walks are better in the evening hue
They are quiet in the back of your mind too

My window shades grow brighter still,
As the sunlight knocks and my room it fills
And for those who are just now closing your eyes
I am sharing with you a part of me, my daylight.

Day 163: All I Need

We are all looking for some quieter days sometimes, to make list of things we want. What do we need, are they long lists of the things we can have, or are they more like wishlists we make for the day. During a conversation with some friends we were all talking about what we wanted from life, and I kept thinking about these disposition you feel that you don't know your life well enough to know what you need. All I need sometimes is a packed luggage and a ticket to fly off somewhere, and amidst all the craziness the capability of writing with no distractions. My musings and a list of all I need.

All I Need
There are times when I knew things wouldn't work
Knowing the outcome, was my only perk
That the things we try are just too hard sometimes
To find meaning to , to even look for a rhyme

All I need sometimes, is to know I have been around
In your mind as a smile, even if I left quietly without a sound
Won't you play the game and just close your eyes
That where ever you need me to be, you have me in your mind

I stand beside you, in more than just a page
In more than meaning, in promises of past days
We are "best before" no fixed times, we are constantly unearthed
We live with no deadlines, we are words that simply take birth

I know all you want to do sometimes is leave your troubles behind
Travel where the world doesn't want you, and there is nothing on your mind
In the soft whispers of the day, as you may end your week
I hope you keep looking for just the same, as I look for all that I need

Day 162: Said & Done

I was talking to a few about how work sometimes leads you to believe that the perfect versions of our theories are in our head. They cannot be written down anywhere and when we draw summaries I hear it too often, "When all has been said and done", which implies that everything possible has been completed. In reality though, that is an ever growing need, it is a relentless need to keep working on theories, and putting them down that fuels us. And even though we cannot be sure of being able to put everything down, I like our attempts at trying. For now me and my friends will keep working on these niceties and politeness we extend from the time somethings have been said and till they are done.

Said & Done
When all had been thought about, been said and done
We will sit outside our doors , as life lies unstrung
Strangers to our own selves , my right hand unlocks the door
As my left hands breaks free, as restless as ever before

No we are not split minds at our best
We create with a little bit of all things that come and go
And when all that was to be said, has been said and done
Lay out versions of the things that lie hidden ,
                                                   those that do not show.

Our attempts at being perfect sometimes we are chasers on a high
What dreams, may bind, inspirations inspire or of all things you aspire
Too little has been said I feel, far less has been done to truly find
We must get back to workbenches and whiteboards in our minds

Some days I will take a chance, I will write of simple things
And lie with wide open eyes when I need to dream
All has never been and never will be said and done
Just simple reasons; where it all started, where it all began

Day 161: Invisible Ink

When we were kids, writing in invisible ink was a new thing, something that involved just knowing to use lemon juice to write messages which magically appeared when held near the flame. Though the concept was fairly simple, it led me to think about unformed , unwritten poetry, whether there is a draft version of these in our heads somewhere which are written in invisible ink. They are thoughts and memories on which we may draw upon, things that might inspire us. For the moment between it is sought for in your memory and the moment it is transformed into writings or poetry, it is written in a million drafts in your head , in invisible ink.We are strange in this way, we are trapped in writings we can't always read, our mind picks and chooses the ones we sometimes get to see.

Invisible Ink
Things that are retained in the back of your mind
Are still the hardest ones to look for, even harder to find
And some that draw you close, and to the brink
Are feelings and thoughts in your mind, written in invisible ink

Summer draws to a warm days close, with rain at my window pane
Catching the drafts of the day as it goes by every single day
Some are expressed in hard words, some are kept just too close
Some are chased down the memory lane, and some just froze.

Poetry is often written in invisible ink, with thoughts first from the mind
And with those who have lead us on, to some places that are hard to find
Yet you draw what you can remember from memory
And in between the meanings, you piece together a story

Some are louder than others, some are often unheard
Burdened sometimes at best, and looking at a loss of words
We are writers of many tales, we are shade on a summer day
I write my stories in invisible ink, and in your memories to stay.

Day 160: Finders,Keepers

The idea of establishing the doctrine of finders, keepers was an old one. It lead to motivation among those to look for something , it may have also lead to some relentless searches that people have tried to find treasures among wreckage. And it is among these relentless spirits that I find the same value among those who choose to write, and capture the essence of the human experience. We keep digging and gnawing at the words as we look for meaning every time we form sentences. We are sailors away from sea, because we look for meaning and treasures in the human experience in the minds of those who read and onto whom we hope our writing permeates. For now Finders are keepers of what you write in your mind, and yet share with the world.

Finders, Keepers
We are restless adventurers, we are sailors far from sea,
We are testing the waters for now, for whatever we could be
Hunting treasures someday, there is so much to be found
When you know what you are looking for, with everything around

We are seekers at best , we look for buried gold
Only we choose to find it in words, and stories untold
Among the thoughts that leave your mind & form etchings on the wall
Some things never leave your sight, they keep standing tall.

Finders, Keepers of this day, we find what we get to keep
Some things that have slid away, and somethings that never leave
We are memories sometimes, the ones that you need them to be
We are hoping to solve what we understand, that which is not even a mystery

For those who have walked in others shoes
Who have followed through on their guts and chased their share of ruse
We are mystery men, we are mysteries ourselves at best
Finders and Keepers of the day, and some things we have placed at rest.

Day 159: Dreams & Dreamers

We are all dreamers with dreams and the idea that some of us remember them while some only experience the passing feeling that it leaves behind is intriguing. Dreams and Dreamers explores this idea of what we take from them, the day dreamers who think of ideas at their desk, those who get to play their hand at best and those who dream from night to day, hoping some of them are retained, atleast some of it would stay. And then there are those for whom the dreams are memories that never fade, we are dreams of a dreamer, maybe hard to erase.

Dreams & Dreamers
We are dreamers at days end and even during the day
With open eyes we dream our world , it comes as it may
We are not worried or haunted by those that don't come true
We are believers in our world, we are promises made to follow through

Dreams about the glare I see on the side of my screen
About things that may have faded but stay right where they have been
I have carried you to the edge of my mind, when you open your eyes
I am momentary at best, something you need to quickly write.

Some songs that play at the end of moments still
While I wish you farewell on long flights and time you no longer fill
My heart takes a moment to sit quiet before hitting restart
While you still keep piecing together the reasons things fall apart

Dreams and Dreamers , we are ships out of our shores
We are remembered by the journeys we make like every before
Maps on the wall keep calling me back home
While we figure out where we were meant to be, our own comfort zones

For now I know not how or why; we may be called to surrender
We are trapped in the reality of today, and maybe the dreams of the dreamer.

Day 158: Two Paragraphs

I wanted today to end with a piece since I couldn't begin with one and I couldn't get my mind around to what I wanted to write. This one is a small one with a smaller prelude, it is written in moments that calls us just a little while before the new day begins. I am writing just two paragraphs, two verses today

Two Paragraphs
No preludes to end of days
Nothing that in small summaries have slipped away
No heavy hearted goodbyes, no conversations on hold
Nothing unchanged and no story untold.

Two paragraphs are all I write today
Between the lonely night and the next day
We are just a few words, we are short meanings on a page
We are writing with no reasons ,we are two paragraphs,
                                                               we are yet to age.

Day 157: To the Little Ones

Today is the 4th of July and apart from being the independence day in US, it is birthday for a little one I call Squiddy. And I also write this for a larger crowd of little ones I have in my life. These are people who are and amusingly remain younger at heart. These are the ones who keep poking at us from time to time to think differently, to be gentle when it comes to dealing with people. There are moments where we feel we will grow only in our own minds, our problems will get more and more complex. It is during these times that it is favorable to be reminded to these younger sides of us and having the little ones at heart, who keep us grounded. It is well implied sometimes that the secret of happiness must be trapped in the capability of carrying a younger heart, a younger version of you and with you always.

To the Little Ones
Here's to the little ones,
To stories that have hardly begun
To those who are younger at heart sometimes
Who are always ready for the next fight

Who have grown up sometimes in their own ways
Who have traveled just a little bit every single day
In steps and strides that they keep to themselves
In places where they think out aloud and some
                                         where they quietly dwell.

Here's to the little ones, happy birthdays to you
I hope you dream big today and have a follow through
Life is unplanned at best sometimes, it comes calling at times
Keep whatever feels special,as I keep these memories as mine

In tomorrow's little silent retreats you take
In moments you get to keep, some that you get to create
In birthday cakes, and ice cream scoops and visits to the zoo
Here's hoping life brings a fair chapter and a sense of wonder
                                                                                just for you.

Day 156: Leave me a Key

Till someone "leaves a key" refers to both leaving a clue, as well as a key which opens doors. In the physicality of the object though there is a meaning that is common, both unlock things in lives that we need to be unlocked. This reflection about locked things and finding a left out key was drawn from the need that I see myself and other struggle through, whether is it personal or professional lives we feel the urgency which grows time and time again. It is in between this hidden nature of things that we look for clues, and maps and roads back. We find solace at end of weeks and find comfort in sitting quietly for a while sometimes. I wonder if it would be easier to ask sometimes, just leave me with a key, leave me with answers, clues and something without mystery.

Leave me a Key
Sometimes when I feel you are locked away from me
I wonder if you could just leave me a key
And draw me a map to find my way to your home
Where you are with your thoughts and yet sometimes alone

Leave me with a direction , I will play the part I need
And somewhere in between I hope you will somehow pay heed
When Friday wasn't long enough, for the week to end
And yet the last thing on my mind was something hard to pretend.

Walk with me to the end of nights and to the door,
Retrace your footsteps where you stepped in before
You were eager to solve the mystery, you would begin with the last page
And yet the memories in your head, your thoughts refuse to age

Leave me with just a thought, till the night draws to a close,
When the time I get to write, was almost the time I chose
We are stories with the last pages missing, I stole them just for me
Till I found the map you drew to home and yet somehow lost my key.

Day 155: Short Poetries

The idea of writing poetry evolves further when you feel the need to approach people in an indirect way. When the most important things you want to say are not the obvious things and yet you want to convey what you feel. For whatever purpose they are written they are somehow things that translate and cross from the barrier between the imagination into reality. It is a complex process and also simultaneously easy in the minds of those who wish to write. The beauty of short poetry, the length and breadth of whatever it may say is the other half that is unknown and beautiful in it's own ways.

Short Poetries
To those who write in short poetries,
Who dream of a world full of summaries
Who write as though the world brings them surprise
They write music with its own reprise

In facts of the day which fades farewell
They have short stories that they have yet to tell
They are nostalgia of a different day
They are reminders of constant changes your way.

And for those who have much to find
Who have nothing lost or left behind
I hope you find solace in a journey as it unfolds
And my short stories sum up stories untold

To each his/her own short poetry
And a walk back home in quiet retreat
Find meaning in corners of your mind
Writing short poetries, just one at a time.

Day 154:Nóstos(Nostalgia)

The Greek word for nostalgia consists of the primary root (Nóstos) which mean homecoming. As one of my friend goes back to Greece today, I though at least the late posting of today can be about this nostalgia that he gets to experience after 17 years. Though much has probably changed in that time frame, there are reasons why the memories you create now will remind you of remnants of a distant past. In between all the turmoil and the happenings of the day the landscape of our mind find solace in some places that are revisited and is rekindled in a new spirit. We are travelers in our own ways, some like the excitement of getting lost in new places and some in finding familiar roads and pathways that they traversed. I simply hope you get to carry back nostalgia as you wished.

Nóstos(Nostalgia) 
At the start of it all and with the old camera reels
No memory cards could replace your own memories
Some places have but changed in time
And some not even a single bit, they have simply survived

We walk the streets as though nothing has changed
And wish that some things have not been too rearranged
The warm places, the places that you call home
And some are just the ones where you belong.

You are held up in between a traveler's guide
Some streets you roam by intuition on your side
And take notes in travel diaries and photographs
Reminding you of time so changed among the ones you had

Goodbye/αντίο what ever it may be
I hope you carry back nostalgia in between your memories
Too many years may have come and gone
And some things are lost, even among the familiar ones.