As a sagely person I know recently remarked, I have no excuse not to blog. While I would like to contest her assertion about me being free and with ample spare time, I do agree that the blog has been in need of a post for quite some time.

Frequent readers of this space, may their numbers rise, will know that most of my writings are rants inspired by the insipidity of the life I lead. Yes, we all complain, but I choose to let the world know. I hope those who accuse me of keeping things in wrap really must read this. Anyway, returning.

This is, what I’d like to believe, a blog about emotions, and occasionally I turn to poetry to give vent to what’s within. This post is an experiment in that direction, because the poem in question hasn’t been written, yet…I will start from scratch, as soon as I do, and see what words and rhymes does The Word conjure up for me.

Without much ado, then, here goes:


The sun:

Each drop that dropped from her eyes.

Each breath that he took in hers.


The breeze:

A heartbeat that passed in a second.

A moment that stood for Eternity.


The sky:

If her face could be any softer.

If her touch could be any more divine.


The day we spent on the grounds,

The sun, the breeze, the sky,

All of it spent between your smile,

All of it lost in the glint of your eye.


How life had agreed to be good to me,

How the Gods agreed to stand beside,

Lost I got in the calm of your lap,

Forgetting the sage wisdom of Wilde.


Oh what a wonderful feeling it was.


She was with me, how complete I felt.

Under that blessed firmament.


But tides turn, and time flies,

What was then, is no more.

How could I, then, go on?

Scathe the things that I adore?


The sun:

Each ray that blinded my eyes.

Each breath that it choked in me.


The breeze:

A storm that choked me for a second.

A tumour that will stay for Eternity.


The sky:

If the darkness could be a little kinder.

If the omens could be a little more divine.


How life agreed to do this to me,

How the Gods threw me aside,

I begin to search, I don’t begin to find,

O Contentment! Where do you reside?


8 thoughts on “Contentment

  1. Very Blakean…..thts wat I thought….did u, while u wrote ths? Moreovr, the confessional current continues….sounds gud for a strt….yet to read othr things…lets see!! 🙂


    1. I’ll take the comparison to William Blake as a serious complement – as any one in their right mind should.

      Though, I must say, that I am confused how do you see it such. And therefore, I can confess, that I had no such idea while writing it.


  2. Since u asked why and how is th poem blakean in spirit, i’d say beacause it follows th typical blakean trope of the inevitable human journey from innocence to experience, reachng a point of no return.I see tht coming thru here, so thought perhaps some influence could hav been at work…..


    1. The point of no return? In what context?

      The way I wrote it:

      “O Contentment! Where do you reside?”

      Was expressedly to indicate a return to the point where it’d all begun – in this case, yes, to the state of existence described in previous stanzas.

      And, as a further note, of all the works in which you’ve seen a confessional current, this is the one that had one consciously added to it.


  3. Hmm… ‘reachng a point of no return’, I had meant to indicate the realization of p’haps th impossiblity of return. I agree that there always is a quest for going back to tht pristine, primordial existence which u describe right in th beginning; but can u really go back? evn if u want to? and evn if u do, isnt the return always-already after th rupture? u tell me….are u really giving the possiblity of going exactly back to that early state of purity, towrds th end of ur poem?


    1. The possibility? No, I am not. And that’s the point – I didn’t mean to either.

      Again, I’ll go back to the question I ask at the end. I wish to, somehow, find it again – but I do know where it resides, it resides in the sentiments described at the beginning. It is, therefore, not a question of possibility, but that of hope. About going back to that sentiment, rather than going back to its station.


  4. I could see tht, and precisely, it was also the hope of return through emotional or imaginitive means, to that primordial existence or the sentiment of it, tht for me, hinted somewhr, the romantic spirit…!


    1. First, apologies for the delay – both between the two comments, and in making this response. I hadn’t actually checked the first comment before you sent the second one, so I had no idea that it was even there.

      As far as the point is concerned, this is romantic in spirit. The return, as other pleasures Life bestows upon us, can almost always be made in that state of, to romanticise it further, mystical, magical delirium.


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