Works

Writers are Paranoid

writers

Pre-Script:

We, writers, may be well known and respected for portraying our thoughts in words but there are few secrets that every writer keeps to himself. Now, I may be exaggerating but these are my worst fears and to be honest each of it is a byproduct of paranoia.

Writers are Paranoid

From the moment we pick up our pens,
till we start with the first letter on the page,
we are afraid.
Afraid about starting the thought our
mind has instigated & what will be the best way to begin?

From the first chapter’s completion,
till the transition of next, we are afraid.
Afraid that if we fail to write again
and live in our real world,
we’ll get exiled from the world we created.

From the introduction of the protagonist,
till the elevation of events, we are afraid.
Afraid that our imaginary friends may leave
us high & dry in the middle and
our story would never proceed.

From the triumph and the climax,
till the final verdict of the book, we are afraid.
Afraid about any plot holes we may have
left in our world.
The story we invested everything in.

From the forming of another plot,
till the publishing of current,
we are afraid,
Afraid if we can even live long enough
to tell the world our stories by our pen.

I agree we are paranoid,
but we’re the fuel.
We’re the ones who remember,
the tellers of truth & tales.
We’re the thinkers and the ones
who never give up even after rejections.

It’s because we know our worth.
It’s because we know we’re writers.


©The Honest Fabler
©Handwriting credits – @theartisticmess

Post-Script:

The past few weeks were buried under academics and extra-curricular activities. I almost forgot the feel of blogging, but it’s really great to be back♥ Wish you guys a great week ahead!

Innocence

innocence

Innocence.

In her eyes, the world was pure;
So pure that even I felt safe.
No evil could harm her soul,
for she believed I can protect her.
Her happy face would start my day;
Her tired yawns would mean good night.
In her whole palm she held my finger,
While my palm could hold her arm.
She knew nothing about the world,
A lone reason behind her happiness.
The more she discovered,
The less she believed;
The more she realized,
The less she smiled;
The more she failed,
The less she tried.

Thus in the end, if there ever is one,
I’d wish nothing but an eternal childhood for the juveniles who are still innocent and away from the grief.


©The Honest Fabler
In frame: My cousin Saee.

ON A RED WINE TRAIL

A glass of red wine

On a cold night,
lies a circular lake
the colour of blood;
Christ’s blood.
Wavering liquid
and dancing lights,
breathing spirit
from red enigma.
It shines and reflects
as I sit to ponder.

On life –
with mourners and celebrators,
travellers and settlers,
blood and water,
with old and new.
The first is last,
with numbers and signs,
in time and space,
with echoes and sirens.
Paths are etched,
erased or opened.
All is well.

Cupped in glass,
crystal or cracked.
A chalice,
a source,
a symbol of hope.
With one sip,
it engulfs and nourishes me
threefold.
A taste once foreign is
now medicine that heals.
Beyond all limits,
it’s mercy and grace.

Slipping down inside a crystal chandelier
red rouge cheeks running on through
breathe as visions settle in my mind
you’re just a little bit of nutty
with an apricot perfume
quite exceptional I do say
a kindred spirit bouquet

Teasing along the tip of my palate
caramel gaze of grandeur glows
as you kiss my parched lips away
partaking a perfect compliment
in every simple way
sparkles spill in anticipation
topping off a pleasant day.

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source- Www.widewallpapers.com

Spread your wings.

wings

Lift your wings to fly.

 

There is no safety here.

This morning in the garden
your words fell out.
Your mouth opened
and ran out of things to say.

Light abandoned and every corner
you went into the spaces
hid away and you became,
just another voice in the wind.

No one notices when the snow
begins and the motels
close and none of the roads
lead home and none of the homes
even have roads
that could take you there.

This morning you collapsed
in on yourself,
and it was only the air
that felt you’re falling.

We heard the
song before we
saw the truck,
and fueled by
heart and hunger,
raced across
the clover field.

You in the lead
as always,
riding free handed,
your smile fuller
than a rain heavy sky.

Majestic creator of geometry
Of my peering face, window,
weeping willow tree.
Her body cropped against the landscape
Cradles birds, leaves, buildings,
Rain and shadows.
In open arms.

Her ever-changing robe.
Sapphire, crimson, auburn, gold.
Continuously alters the wrapping paper.
Presenting the Earth to mankind.

The world ends where the sky begins,
Nothing lies beyond the horizon
But the knowledge
of the stars,
Reaching beyond the Milky Way
Whose luminescence strokes my tabletop,
In a tiny apartment
A gleaming box of light
Adorning the vast expanse of a building,
Carved along the edges
Of a clear night sky.


© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source- Pooja Mukherjee

Magical Embrace

As the seconds pass…
We look back…
Of what our lives have held…
As the minutes pass…
We see what fell through the cracks…
Parts of our lives we withheld…
As the hours pass…
We think of what we learned…
What we have taught…
What we have forgot…
As the days pass…
We wish a lot could be returned…
We wish we would of never fought…
You hope they forget-me not…
As years pass…
You stand alone…
They have all grown…
Married and gone…
Or on their own…
As your life passes…
You stand proud…
Looking how well they raise their own…
You did well…
Live on…

If at times you feel you want to cry.
And life seems such a trial.
Above the clouds there’s a bright blue sky
So make your tears a smile.

As you travel on life’s way
With its many ups and downs
Remember it’s quite true to say
One smile is worth a dozen frowns.

Among the worlds expensive things
A smile is very cheap
And when you give a smile away,
You get one back to keep.

Happiness comes at times to all
But sadness comes unbidden
And sometimes a few tears must fall
Among the laughter hidden.

So when friends have sadness on their face
And troubles round them piled
The world will seem a better place
And all because you smiled.

My best friend is a book
that doesn’t give me a weird look.
It is like a golden door
that takes me to the land where I have never been before.
It tells me the tales of fairy
that take me to the land full of merry.
You can never go wrong with a book
Because a book is like your friend
And a book as you know never comes to an END.


© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-  Wide Wallpapers

Winking Cupcake

I sink my shiny white teeth into
The rich creamy delicious chocolate cake .
I lick my lips,I think I am addicted.
My mind sighs blackberries
and a moonstruck melody
plays along my spine
as I soak up the fruited juice
of I love you coloring your lips
The cherry blush of breathless,
And a smile amid the wash
Of blueberry eyes, should indicate
My intended reply.

I am looking blindly into the fridge.
You are the keeper of my heart.
Its natural form bleeds away in a sticky juice.
She laughed as softly as if she sighed,
I wondered though would she ever love me,
Her smile revealed things only I could see,
Now would I tell her of the things I thought
I wondered though would she ever love me.
What is this feeling that has made me taut?

Now would I tell her of the things I thought
All other food but love I’d surely spare
What is this feeling that has made me taut
My life I’d gently give to her with care
All other food but love I’d surely spare,
Then I would be hers and she would be mine,
A life together we would have to build,
My love and joy swelled up until I cried,
I’d be her love,companion and her shield,
She laughed as softly as if she sighed.


© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source- Myself

The Bench

bench

The Bench

It was always white.
No matter the weather, it’s wood never turned dull.
The rain drops slid away like water over oil.
The hot sun could only add to it’s brightness.
The snow? It converted the bench into Snow White’s favorite seat.

The resistant mighty white wasn’t the reason why she loved it, I reckon.
It must’ve been it’s perfect location in the garden which made every bird on Earth make it’s way around the bench.
There, she sat with a hand in the food bag and other holding whatever book I recently gave her to read.

Maybe, I’m still getting it wrong.
Because another part of my mind says it was the view.
The colorful flowers and their sweet fragrance made it’s way to my bed, every morning when she opened our window.

I may have guessed it right by now or it could be something I can’t even guess, but she loved this place. I’m sure.
I’m sure because the bench has lost it’s glow, the flowers have turned to kiss the ground and the birds refuse to eat from the plastic dishes she would sometimes feed them from.
Even I, don’t have the smile which stuck to my face all day.
Even I miss her. But I know she’s gone to a place happier!
A place where everyone and everything would love my mother as much as we did.


©The Honest Fabler – Ashutosh Gursale

Library Romance.

library

Library Romance – Every New Time.

The first time I saw her smile,
it was through the gaps of the library shelves that she stood beyond.

The first time we exchanged a glance,
she laughed too hard while reading a comic under the “Keep Silence” board.

The first time I talked to her,
she dropped her favorite bookmark in the crack between two tables which I helped to lift.


The second time I didn’t only see her smile,
I smiled with her.

The second time we didn’t only exchange a glance,
we stared directly in our eyes looking for solace.

The second time I didn’t only talk to her,
I confessed to her about how I felt that she had the brightest smile I’d ever seen
and the sweetest voice I’d ever heard.


The third time I definitely didn’t see her smile,
she cried her eyes out in her father’s arms.

The third time we definitely couldn’t exchange a glance,
since her eyes were drenched with tears and her mascara all over.

The third time I definitely didn’t talk to her,
because it was her turn to repeat the vows and say “I do”


©The Honest Fabler ~Ashutosh Gursale
©Image Source- @theartisticmess

My Best Half

Time’s due / My best half.

First time we met.
We smiled, laughed and played
by the big Oak Tree in the back.
A kindergarten friendship we made.

It lasted for years,
Through all of the school life.
Laughs and smiles,
Fights and tears.

And now we know,
We are never apart.
If I did anything right,
In life…

It was giving you my heart.
Time, if I had all the time in the world
I would want absolutely nothing.
It is not time itself that makes your life worth something.

In the time that I have,
I will be kind, gentle
and more giving.
I will take advantage of all the time I have to show more joy;
I’ll be living.

I will take the time that I have
to listen more intently.
I will respond and speak more
wisely and more softly.

In the time that I have
I will share it with those whom I love,
Because I have no idea how much time I have;
that is up to God above.

In the time that I have
I will devote myself to God through you.
Let the word of God enlighten me
because without her I have no life.

In the time that I have
I will love and honor my wife in all that I do.
I do this out of love, a devoted and
never ending love for you.

In the time that I have I will share a passion
for a blessed and positive life.
I will make the time to share my love with
my one greatest blessing, my beautiful wife.

In the time that we have together I will lift you up
in spirit and to God I will pray.
That you have health, kindness, and love as part of your blessing each and every day.
Time is no longer my friend, and I know that is true.

My wife, that is why I want to devote all my time in loving you.


© The Honest Fabler– Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source- Wides Wallpapers

In the End, he’s One Step Closer.

chester

You want to talk about fair?
If you are, then stop right here,
Because this write-up isn’t fair.
It isn’t fair because life isn’t.

And you wouldn’t ever, ever get back what you give.
Life would throw huge freaking lemons on your pretty face, without caring if it hurt your nose.
You can’t reason with lemons, of course.
You can’t make their lemonade either, these lemons are only metaphorical.

To translate in simple tongue, they’ve no use.
But I’ll be wrong to say that, since these lemons are necessary.

Personally, I feel bananas are an apt term for them.
Why? So one could say that “I slipped over a banana” and not “Life threw lemons at me.”

These lemons are necessary because they break you so that you can make yourself better.
I could rant out to you the life’s cruel ways to treat you but you won’t know until you, yourself, try so hard and it still wouldn’t even matter.

To take one’s own life, there needs to be courage. And a person can never gain this courage in one tragic event. It’s always a collection of events. I don’t know what made a generation’s role model feel so helpless that he thought suicide is the only escape, but I know he had the courage.
Depression, is the ultimate fuel to this. You’re not only a survivor, if you’ve seen depression, you’re a hero the world needs to know about. A ray of hope for others to learn from.

In a population of 7.5 billion people, if one still feels alone enough to stay depressed I don’t know why rest of us should ignore it. I don’t know why any of us should mourn when it’s out of our hands and not help them before it happens. 

Saying “You’re not alone” is pointless unless and until we don’t start being there for them. The saddest part about life is being bound to feel helpless when something like this happens. I so wish someone, if not me, had the power to stop every person from feeling the emotions Chester felt. What has happened, has happened. What’s lost, is lost. But what’s with you, is all that is real. Be kind to those in flesh and bones, if I’m asking too much then let’s not us insult someone or express hatred to what and how others are.

I apologize for this rant and the unprofessional way of writing, but I had to get this out.
Thank you for reading my thoughts, it really means a lot to me than you can ever imagine!

Have a great weekend.

Be happy and healthy.