As I Write

So many things change as I sit here and write

I may have picked some of the ideas from keen observations

As I find the appropriate words to personalise them

Not necessarily memorise them or even invite them close enough

For they are signs, like the neon signs which flicker in a rhythm

Attractive, sometimes too dazzling, and psychedelic too

A city probably feels the mind-altering moments every evening

What I write about may not be relevant for many

As I play and pause the thoughts that I have recorded

Unaware, who’s next door, or right in front of me

My window has a screen of creative delusions

Here, in my room, there is a different kind of music playing

The world outside dances to a blend of songs

Sometimes, I starve my mind of ideas, to make it greedy for more

Some changes that I register, some occurs simultaneously

The pen does not mind, the ink is like a hallucinogen


9 thoughts on “As I Write

    1. I agree with you, Marie. I feel, the writer is aware of the reality of the world around and also tries to make sense of the world created through writing. When Art precedence, and the other reality becomes feeble, then it becomes quite a task translating what’s held within. I think even philosophers face this dilemma.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. To Starve your mind of ideas , that’s lovely, sometimes I feel , no words of literature world should be unread . The more you read, the more you want. Correct me if I am wrong Amitav 😊

    Liked by 2 people

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