Not a letter, not an article, just a "something"...

[symphony]

The following has grown quite old now, but since I couldnt find time to post it earlier, thought I'd give it a shot here. I'm not even sure if this is the place I should post it in. I just wanted to share.
I started it as a letter, but then decided against it midway through. So forgive me if the first bits sound too personal/informal.


31 August ’07.
2:30 AM

And another silent night that doesn’t sound so silent to me. Why do I always find these nights so full of sounds? Why do the voices of the silence always echo around in my ears?
It is, however, in these nights that Tennyson whispers in my ears—

“Our echoes roll from soul to soul
And grow forever and forever…”

Did Tennyson know?

And why is it that tonight the gentle breeze flowing outside so humbly cant seem to satisfy me? I thought I always loved gentle breezes! Well who, unless you count bankers(!), wouldn’t?!
And yet tonight, I want gusty winds, not gentle breezes. I want a whirlwind of storm to blow the night away. I want the clouds to run wildly, the winds to scream as they go, while the leaves perform a rhythmic dance of death. The flowers about to fall will fall, the dead leaves will be driven away,-- for tonight there’ll be no room for the weak, the dead, the lost. No genial glance will save them from fading away this very moment, no gentle grasp stop them from falling apart. Perhaps, for a moment, a heart or two will spare them a thought. But the cruel wind will soon drive them away with a swish of its wings. This is a night when the lightnings hit the ground strong and loud, when the raindrops hiss like an angry serpernt, and the oceans charge like a lethal dragon.

And this is a night when the mind wont cherish past memories, wont cry over the bygone. A new fire will be born, emmiting sudden sparks to proclaim its presence; A fire too firm for the winds to bend, too strong for the raindrops to kill, too bright for the lightnings to be seen, too fiery for even the oceans to gulp; A fire born only to bash the broken pillars whereon the past stood, to melt away the memories, and to reignite and explode and create a new unique universe.

Then again, will the new demesne be free from those evergrowing echoes of the past? Will ashes of the dead times not build castles of the coming?
What were forfeitures of the past, will they not be the forerunners of the future?

P.S. I apologise if I posted it in the wrong thread and if the mods have to go through the trouble of moving it. :(

[Pensive]

It's amazing, symphony. The touch of sentiments, the beautiful language (yet with a notion of horror in it), a very thought-provoking question! Very interesting.

[symphony]

Thanks Pensive. It's a question thats been stirring my thoughts lately...

[Virgil]

Very well written Symphony. Not sure how i would classify it, but it is very poetic, which makes it a poem.

[symphony]

Very well written Symphony. Not sure how i would classify it, but it is very poetic, which makes it a poem.
Thanks for commenting, Virgil. (I always feel honored when u comment on sth I've written!)
Well yeah this has become a bit too poetic for an article. I can feel it too. Someone has even told me that its close to a prose poem. But since I'm not much familiar to prose poetry and havent written any myself before, I guess I wont know.

[gothic]

If you are not much of a critic,then what am I suppose to be? okay,lets just try to see it a bit 'non-critically',since you have said it was only meant to be shared.I don't want to say anything about the language,cuase to do that I'll be forced to repeat the comments above.to avoid that I'll just say,keep up this good new spirit and explore it through more writings(so that we get to see more of your fine works;) )

[symphony]

Yes as i said earlier, this queston's bugging me for quite a while, so i guess more pieces on "this new spirit" can be expected. ;)

[blazeofglory]

The following has grown quite old now, but since I couldnt find time to post it earlier, thought I'd give it a shot here. I'm not even sure if this is the place I should post it in. I just wanted to share.
I started it as a letter, but then decided against it midway through. So forgive me if the first bits sound too personal/informal.


31 August ’07.
2:30 AM

And another silent night that doesn’t sound so silent to me. Why do I always find these nights so full of sounds? Why do the voices of the silence always echo around in my ears?
It is, however, in these nights that Tennyson whispers in my ears—

“Our echoes roll from soul to soul
And grow forever and forever…”

Did Tennyson know?

And why is it that tonight the gentle breeze flowing outside so humbly cant seem to satisfy me? I thought I always loved gentle breezes! Well who, unless you count bankers(!), wouldn’t?!
And yet tonight, I want gusty winds, not gentle breezes. I want a whirlwind of storm to blow the night away. I want the clouds to run wildly, the winds to scream as they go, while the leaves perform a rhythmic dance of death. The flowers about to fall will fall, the dead leaves will be driven away,-- for tonight there’ll be no room for the weak, the dead, the lost. No genial glance will save them from fading away this very moment, no gentle grasp stop them from falling apart. Perhaps, for a moment, a heart or two will spare them a thought. But the cruel wind will soon drive them away with a swish of its wings. This is a night when the lightnings hit the ground strong and loud, when the raindrops hiss like an angry serpernt, and the oceans charge like a lethal dragon.

And this is a night when the mind wont cherish past memories, wont cry over the bygone. A new fire will be born, emmiting sudden sparks to proclaim its presence; A fire too firm for the winds to bend, too strong for the raindrops to kill, too bright for the lightnings to be seen, too fiery for even the oceans to gulp; A fire born only to bash the broken pillars whereon the past stood, to melt away the memories, and to reignite and explode and create a new unique universe.

Then again, will the new demesne be free from those evergrowing echoes of the past? Will ashes of the dead times not build castles of the coming?
What were forfeitures of the past, will they not be the forerunners of the future?

P.S. I apologise if I posted it in the wrong thread and if the mods have to go through the trouble of moving it. :(

I find this piece very movingly penetrating across many layers to reach the very core of my heart. In fact I have a heart to feel the very depth of a poem, and this piece resembles something that runs within me like molten rock awaiting eruption.

At heart I am a poet too. I have an eye to see the beauty of a thing and an ear to hear the melody. Yet I have no words and sentences that give shape to them.

I got really amazed at the beauty you have taken hold of, and this transcends all bounderies and outshine any other things of magnanimity.

This you worte and that got me ot guess out of inspiration only.

[symphony]

... ...Yet I have no words and sentences that give shape to them... ...

Thats a problem I, of all, have to face too often, especially when writing something in english, english will always be a foreign language to me.

But anyway, at certain moments, I guess, the words just pour in, as u said- "out of inspiration only".
And at other times....well, do mere words really say anything after all? What's beautiful is beautiful anyway, even without anyone blabbering about that. :) And if this beauty was the beauty I was blabbing about in here, then it surely does "transcend all boundaries and outshine any other things of magnanimity". :)

Thanks for taking the time to read and appreciate it. :)

[blazeofglory]

Thats a problem I, of all, have to face too often, especially when writing something in english, english will always be a foreign language to me.

But anyway, at certain moments, I guess, the words just pour in, as u said- "out of inspiration only".
And at other times....well, do mere words really say anything after all? What's beautiful is beautiful anyway, even without anyone blabbering about that. :) And if this beauty was the beauty I was blabbing about in here, then it surely does "transcend all boundaries and outshine any other things of magnanimity". :)

Thanks for taking the time to read and appreciate it. :)

Symphony, I do not think language will or can stand in your way as a barrier. No barrier or obstacle to fence you when you write with a will and nothing I believe is more powerful than a strong will.

Minor linguistic flaws can be corrected or edited and now mot pf the novels are edited. Grammar can be checked wherever required but the idea, the use of words and sentence structures must be entirely yours and if fail there, in making your sentences vivacious nothing will remain of you as a writer, but the way you wrote the piece commeded earlier cam establish you as an accomplished wirter and that proves masterliness in your expression.

Nowadays one does not need to be a native speaker to perfect in a language if you put your hear in it. Joseph Conrad was impeccable and could outsmaret even accomplished wirters in English despite the fact that English was a second language. Now we can see of late Indian writing in English proliferating. Arundhaty Roy was really an accomplished writer and the beauty or grandeur of her writing transcended limits of nativity or national boundaries. It was no their language and she is provenly a perfect writer in English and not less than any other native writers in degree and quality.

But the zeal you depicted in your piece endorses the fact that you are unbeateable.

[symphony]

But the zeal you depicted in your piece endorses the fact that you are unbeateable.

I can only say: Thank you.
:)

[xtianfriborg13]

That's a nice "something" :)