I have always felt that story telling is extremely powerful if the beginning is captured by pictures that are painted. This ofcourse is related to the idea that we are better at imagining something once the details have been filled in. So much so that our memories are like snapshots of some things that we tend to remember in great detail. These memories evolve and sometimes things are added or deleted from what we haven't written down. However I still find that drawing from stories and pictures is one of the most effective way of revisiting them. "Picture This" was born from an idea that I discussed with a friend long time back, it was about exploring writing through pictures whether you could tell details of stories from them and I wanted to explore it the other way around about how vivid pictures can be painted with words. Though they both consistently perform well, I wanted to explore what the mind interprets as pictures from words that mean different things to different people. For now "picture this"
Picture This
Picture this, just you and me
We are free with our words in between our poetry
Two writers and readers who are intertwined
Our words are a roaring fire along with vintage wine
Till the dust has not settled on jackets on my books
Till there are places where notes are hidden,
those where I haven't looked
We are chapters that come together time after time
We are unwritten poetry being written & put on rewind
We are incomplete(s) for now with much at hand
Stories in languages which are sometimes hard to understand
We are reminders of past days & those to come
While we get to know more about what we have become
Picture this, we are scattered time from an hour glass
We are sand that pours for now, reminders of hours that pass
While we comprehend what we write or write from a new
Unless our minds and thoughts have been overtaken too
Picture this, just you and me with simple words on the floor
Sitting down and finding meaning, some mine and some yours.
Picture This
Picture this, just you and me
We are free with our words in between our poetry
Two writers and readers who are intertwined
Our words are a roaring fire along with vintage wine
Till the dust has not settled on jackets on my books
Till there are places where notes are hidden,
those where I haven't looked
We are chapters that come together time after time
We are unwritten poetry being written & put on rewind
Stories in languages which are sometimes hard to understand
We are reminders of past days & those to come
While we get to know more about what we have become
Picture this, we are scattered time from an hour glass
We are sand that pours for now, reminders of hours that pass
While we comprehend what we write or write from a new
Unless our minds and thoughts have been overtaken too
Picture this, just you and me with simple words on the floor
Sitting down and finding meaning, some mine and some yours.
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