another one

The creeping sadness, blurs the edges of the dream
like a mist descending, quietly invading
the oblivion of sleep

The muted melancholy tugs at my waking
worming its way carefully, inexorably,
into the numb routine of every day life

The quiet sorrows bubble from within
rising to the surface, sharp, piercing,
evoking bittersweet memories of broken dreams and dashed hopes

And the tears slide down silently,
like rivulets of raindrops
a mute testament to the emptiness inside.
mf, final version, June 08

I am not depressed. Let me just get that out of the way. If anything, perhaps one can say that I am a tad melodramatic which is why I like to write these sad, pathetic poetry if you can call it that. Mostly, when inspiration hits, I get about a few lines, which turn to unwieldy ones such as this because I stretch the words out. For this one, I wrote the first lines without much effort but the following paragraphs took soooo long. I must have oh four or five versions of this before I settled on this one.

Here's another example of the skewed sense of humor that my muse has:

Wishes...
prayers whispered fervently
in corridors of hope
dreams, what might be
trying to change reality

that's it, I couldn't turn it into a halfway decent ( for me at least) poem so I left it at that and just turned the first line into the title of my blog instead.

changes

1

changes, changing, changed,
everything's different
somehow I'm lost, I do not know how
lost, broken away.
life lines, I find that
I am not alone
or am I?
adrift in a sea of my own making
my own choice
am I happy?
maybe.
all that I am sure of is that
I am alone.
6/24/2000 maf

2

awash in a sea of change
forlorn, alone, confused
should I sink or swim?
should I give in to the currents
tugging me down, pulling at me
or should I fight to keep
my head above the water?

I feel so overwhelmed, so lost.
Is there no escaping this?
7/18/2000 maf

This is something I wrote about 10 years ago, when I was going through a major upheaval in my academic life. And instead of talking things over with a friend, I decided to pour my heart out into this. Its funny but 10 years later, there are still days when I feel this way. I suppose we all do at one time or another. I wish I could say that in the period between then and now, I have learned to share my feelings with others. I haven't, not really. Which is why I love doing this, blogging. Its sort of a cross between a journal and a confessional, because I know that someone somewhere will stumble upon this and that I have at least somehow managed to share what I feel, what's going on inside my head without losing my anonymity and crumbling the facade that I have worked so hard to build up.

hiding in plain sight

28


a quiet descends
over the stillness
of a life half-lived
seemingly, vicariously,
through printed words

the stories she's read
of love, of woe, of hope
of sorrows
weave around her
providing her escape

because the rain inspires dark thoughts sometimes

Hard rain doesn't last
or so they say
perhaps...
why then do i feel
as though I've been
standing in this downpour forever?
as though my hopes
have all been soaked, tattered,
ruthlessly washed away
by the torrents

hard rain doesn't last
maybe...
why then do I feel
as though the cold
has seeped to my bones
and i am left here,
shivering, bereft of warmth
stumbling blindly,
reaching for comfort,
coming up empty...

hard rain doesn't last
it may be true
but it lingers long enough
to chill your soul
and change your perspective

copyright 2005 by maf




I wrote this about 3 years ago, when I was feeling down and a little depressed as I am wont to do at certain times of the year. This is an example of what A was talking about when he asked me if I still wrote, because I used to write sappy poems when we were in high school. I like to think I've grown more discerning since then and that my writing has somehow grown.