Letters To Life

O pretty face let me be next to you today i always wished us to be together together from dawn till dusk from nadir till zenith from the moment i saw you till the moment i see nothing Who knows where life takes us as we move on whether i'll be there caressing your temples and feeling your sweet presence mingled in the aura of love love, filling the emptiness between us and the stars who knows... If today, you go away nothing will change in this world but there will be no world for me like a thirsty person in the midst of an ocean dying for a drop of life i would wander pale and blue just to have a sight of you powered by performancing firefox

Costard caused widespread consternation in the German art scene with his short debut film Warum hast du mich wachgeküsst (Why did you kiss me awake?) in 1967. With a moving camera the moviewatcher enters a room. In a mirror he witnesses how a young naked girl keeps the camera under her arm. She opens a drawer, leaves the camera inside and closes it. The spectator is captured in darkness. A masterpiece in only three minutes, according to the critics. When the employees of the theatre turned on the lights, the audience was outraged as they felt they still were in that drawer and now the spell was broken; avant garde cinema at its best.

Memories are like a sudden gust of cold breeze; they leave you shivering as they pass by the moors of your mind. A retrospection can take you to the good moments which you cherish and the bad ones which you would not want to remember again, but, nonetheless, they do appear without you being conscious of them. You cannot avoid a recollection, whether of joy or agony or thrill, it just hits you and then goes away. I have many such memories which I want to share because I think that is the only way by which I can live those moments again. But to find a potential listener is a huge ask, therefore, I decided to jot them down here. One such incident, which I think was one of the most thrilling of all, is what I am describing here. It still leaves me trembling with fear when I am reminded of it. This happened when I was in 11th standard. We were a group of four; one of the most famous clans in the the school, and infamous as well. We were like four wheels of a wagon-a wagon on the roll, drive...

(This one is one of the older ones....and surely my best creation so far!) Driving at night The car a part of me Speeding down desolate asphault trails Confined to white and yellow lines But free as a bird in the sky Bright stars overhead Made even brighter by the blackness between My heart skips a beat as I feel a warm touch at my arm It slowly creeps down, tracing my veins like an artist's brush Until she finds my palm and the spaces between my fingers We're sitting on a hill Watching the night weave a blanket of starry stuff and black lace Listening to her tell her story Surrounded by nothing but a quiet rolling mist Relaxing with the paintress in my arms Sharing a gaze that only can mean one thing between two people And loving the mural that is life And now it is time for us to go To depart from this hill Do we leave like shadows sprinting from a match or do we embrace it to remember the moment like a moth to his last glorious fiery ...

Was it true or was it fake I heard you singing by the lake The sun sinking with a reddish hue Made the lake look red and you too The notes of your dirge floating in the air like the dust that rises after a fair All birds and bees closing their day To listen to the melodies, had to stay You made everything blissful around With the enthralling power of sound Now I loiter around the lake for long Just to catch a word of the sweet song

by Rahul Sitting pretty in Guha's class and listening about tin and brass an abberant thought went through my head "why do we want good grade?" I pondered over it for a while then the answer struck me with a smile Good grades would mean nice job you'll stand away from the common mob good job is nothing but a healthy pay sun would shine for you to make hay Money makes your life's merry go round all comforts and luxeries truly profound But the next moment i went too far Is that what we are living for? Great people left all luxeries of life Always lived like a soldier's wife I too want to be one great I will never strive for good grade! Powered by eSnips.com