Reflections on Writing

Time to reflect upon the equilibrium of life. Time to overanalyze simple situations that grows immeasurable like the population of bacteria on my tattered pencil. Time to go back, bring a missing person from the past to the bitter present. Time to draw colorful memories that i never had. Time to punch people in the illusion of their poker faces. Time to say the words i would have said to you. Time to feel free from a poisoning language barrier. Time to be fluent, completed. Time to remember a hysterical mama. Time to question a confrontational papa. Time to deal with overloads of inhibitory love. Time to throw away acid guilt. Time to get rid of rotten jealousy that is eating me to my bones. Time to be a hearty human. Time to be cliché, but feel original. Time to shut my mouth and let my rhythmic organs speak. I should have overfloading oceans of time to get rid of my emotions as rhymes.

- Zelma Feldman Lewerissa

Your might A slight Like night My plight A blight. Can't fight. The kite Takes flight. Clear sight, Stand right. Inspite of your spite, I write. - Arista Engineer When I write... When I write The splinters and shards of my mind Dissolve, swirl, whirl And are flushed down the arm Down the pen Dripping onto the diary My mind now cradle of calm  It's ointment, it's cherry blossom balm. - Radhika Menon Shadowfigures Pale shines the nightlight on the wall Paler than the face that faced bad news both are empty Dark moves the hand  by darkness moved, created two eyes, a lightless breath on the wall without colour We see that which the moment looks like As the spider sees with eight eyes the raven lives the life of a freebird and the silence tells us what we don't want to hear In the shadows, the fallen play white dresses, black hairs love, pain, and ways of suffering brave knights and beautiful ladies fantastical fairytales and fables the lights still shines as the sun but the snowwhite wall does not melt sweet sorrows, sweet tomorrow gone is the one that dreamt everything gone, the thought that made truth out of dream - Dagmar Dousma