Friday, November 25, 2011

a thing called Life...

Ok I can't keep it to myself :)
Im so Happy these days
Feeling like a Princess!!!
I just love this thing about Life
Its soooo full of surprises.

I told ya I wanted to Feel , isnt it?
I am Feeling. I CAN Feel.
Aw God I can really.
What I feel is so much love for a thing called Life.
You know what I am feeling - that I have just woken up from a long disease and gone out in the sunshine. And the November Sun with its mild curative rays has healed me of the wounds life generally gives to its lovers.



Thursday, November 24, 2011

Scribbles addressed to The Anonymous

Is it what they call Life's Irony?
What began with an Open Relationship
Became so very Closed.

Scribbles addressed to the Anonymous

I could have done the things I always do
But  perhaps I knew
You fear the pain.

Saturday, November 19, 2011


"I seek penitence." 
"What is your crime?"
"I wished well, I wished 
to be useful. Each time."

Scribbles addressed to an Anonymous

Some stories must need characters
In others Anonymous fill the colors

Thursday, November 17, 2011


And how people change. Change completely. Change not particularly for Good or Bad but just change. Coz They need to wear a shield or to come out of a suffocating cell. Change , to watch a sky more clearer, to feel the warmth, feel the joy of watching a butterfly.

And how people change. An event, a scathing word, an accident, a movie can cause it.
And oh people do change. Willfully, forcefully, or just like that... they change.
I tried ... I found myself on the brink of this change. Became serious, more reserve, mysterious. Closed the book. Hid from glances. And could I change anything? Change the essential in me?

...thus life will be spent in waiting 
I wait for the Change.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

The Anonymous

Its been one year or so he stops at my blog n leaves comments. The comments kill me. Sometimes I know who is he. At other times I am just like a baffled cat. I think of old conversations. What went wrong? What was right , anyway? 

A face without a face. A mere shadow creeping over my mind. Can I have any story with anonymous? And what if there is one? What sort of story it can be? A very romantic? Or mysterious? A tragic one? Let's just make out the possibilities...

He is the one I am thinking of and I am the one he always thought of. Out of comments we come together and begin afresh. Despite the fact, I am still confused. Despite the fact, I don't want to go back. I am curious to know what's the end...

Or may be the Anonymous is the one I would never want him to be. I hate even his shadow because it tells dark stories of my own heart. What if its not the one I expect. Expectations should not hurt. But why to expect? What else can I do? I am lost in the game. The anonymous has won. I am baffled. I want to see the face. I want to feel. To talk. To hear. To know. To tell what has gone till now. Heart to heart conversation. Again expectations. Am I afraid of something? Of breaking one more heart? Before that I want to break my own. And so I wait for you... whoever you are... whatever story it be... I wait for someone to break my heart.

Pino 6 woman painting, nude painting
a painting by Pino
~ jeanie

Sunday, November 13, 2011

If only ...

I have so much
so much
to say
to day
If only
you would hear it
Far from here
that way

I have plenty of stars
so many stars
for you
to day
If only
you would look deep
deep into my eyes
Out of the way

I have number of melodies
so many melodies
to sing
to day
If only
you would hear them
in my silence...

I have so much
so much
to say
to day
If only
you would hear it
Far from here
that way
If only you were here
You could hear
The words without words
And could see
silence shivering my bare soul...

- Jeanie

Here's My Story

someone loved
some one loved
some one lo ve ed her
some one lo ve ed her so much
some one lo ve ed her so so much 
some one lo ve ed her so so very much
some one lo ve ed her in so so many ways

And so thereby hangs a Tale !!

Monday, November 7, 2011

Two Hours for Soul

Two hours. Two long. Too much. Yet too less if I sit by a half-closed window and sun rays tickle my eyes play with my hairs and kiss my lips.
Too less to thank God for all good he did. 
Too less to observe the life as it flows. 
Too less to love each moment as it passes by. 

We run and run whole life and it is passed in a twinkling of an eye but our soul carries the imprints for eternity. The Soul was an empty vessel when it began its journey but the time allowed Soul to fill itself with pretty flowers, beads, gems and magnificent things. Whole life we keep on fulfilling the needs of body and neglect our soul. Wouldn't it be wonderful to pause for some minutes and give sometime to our Soul. 
To observe the cycle of universe and feel yourself a part of it.
To rise above the petty problems of the day and feel the magnificence of Being.
To fly with imagination to the unknown worlds of fairies, kabilas, gypsies, forests, mountains, ocean.
To let the Soul fly to the beauties of the world and come back refreshed again. 

Two hours for talking to old friends.
Two hours for playing with kids.
Two hours for letting the feet dance.
Two hours for playing the fingers trance.

Time is precious not because it inherits worth but because we have power to give it the value. Whether a second, a minute, an hour or two we have wonders to do :) 

Believe Yourself because believing is experiencing !!


Saturday, November 5, 2011

A wish : S.J

She had taken so many lovers. Love stayed , love flew, love had put on always new , new faces , but she was tired. She would ask gloomily looking at the falling snow, "why am I blessed with such a curse?" And I would only look into her pretty sad eyes. There was nowhere now the wish to be loved by other. Nomore the wish to fly. Nolonger the wish to live. But since life was a truth she couldn't deny, she wanted to live it in a humble penitence. In loving the nature, learning the art of healing, winning over passions... ah! but even sometimes a genuine wish can not conquer the human passions. A storm lay beneath the calm sea of her countenance. Hers was a story of passion and not penitence. Lives were waiting to write her story. Unconscious though she was of her destiny, every man is somewhat conscious of what lies ahead. Destiny reveals itself in the bouts of passion and countenance. 

Thursday, November 3, 2011

my Own Being - S.J

She loved ugly. "Because we all have the dark side and which is not a Madonna's beauty". But I was talking about the Night. I was lying down looking at his grotesque gestures while sleeping. But he is fine. I looked at the faded blue light  coming from a small window. A part of heart said , wake up , its the time to write. Another part said... and thus the heart utters two things and ditches very friendly. I miss her. I miss the old days when she was with me and we talked about heaven and hell , but mostly about the gap between. She loved ghosts and I would become one for her sometimes. Nostalgia. Is such an inadequate word. I miss her sometimes like my own being. 

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

And I am not so happy these days

And I am not so happy these days 
For the happiness drinks me to the emptiness.

Flowers become shrine for my love
Love that was never so fresh
And I am not so happy these days.

Shadows talk to me in whisper
Dark moments bask in sun rays
And I am not so happy these days.

When you hold me I drown into limbo
Quiet is world , past says
And I am not so happy these days.

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