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Obscure...

Posted in By Eon Heath 31 comments




Why am I so confused
with what I think
I refuse to believe
In those sweet nothings…
I walk looking for
Empty streets…
Often ending up
At the place we meet…

Am still to forget
The ways of your smile
And I cant give up
Treating myself unkind…

The look of your eyes
Tell me you are still mine
And its just not wise
To let someone reside…

This transition of my life
Is something
I cant stand this time…
Wake me up
Or let me sleep
I wanna get better
than just memories……
I say, should I give up
Or should I fight
Keep on dreaming
Of you each night…


- Eon Heath

i cant really say what provoked me to write this...it had something to do with a conversation with a fellow blogger and a little bit of the draught going on..
;-)
jokes apart, there are moments that question the foundation of your belief, your faith...tried to capture on such moment for me...



img courtesy - Google

Enigma, Me...

Posted in By Eon Heath 29 comments




Take a stroll
down the street,
It runs through
a few memories...

talk to a stranger
at some random spot,
his words would remind you
of my thoughts...

just linger along
in those emptiness,
you'll find yourself
aching for my presence...

but life aint
some gypsies' wonderball,
it shows no future
just lurks in the past....


-Eon Heath



Img courtesy - Google

Reverie...

Posted in By Eon Heath 40 comments




The chain of thoughts,
Often digs up the past…
Reminds me of the days,
Of the deeds and words
That were left halfway…

The nights are filled,
With my shattered dreams…
Revelling in my eyes,
Is the numbness of this pain
Memoirs of the crimson stream…

I shouldn’t have tried
Slaying these monsters
Of the bay…
In their vicious smile,
Is where my happiness lay…


-Eon Heath


p.s.- No nothings for why this post is here...it is long due...an acceptence to myself.
:)


Image courtesy - Here

Saaki...

Posted in By Eon Heath 59 comments



Woh shaam phir yaad aayi…

Teri zulfon mein ghul gaya tha yun,
Ke raat ki chadar odh li ho jaise…
Teri saanso ko pee gaya yun,
Ki apne hone ka ehsaas kho gaya jaise…
Teri aankhon mein doob gaya yun,
Ki har lamhaa tham gaya jaise…

Phir na jaane kyun, yaadein,
is sham ki tanhayi mein aa samayi…
beete dino mein behte,
who kuch palon ko saath layi…
shayad is jam ke paymane ne,
teri rooh ko hai sang layi…

phir saaki ne pila di,
aur woh shaam phir yaad aayi….


- Eon Heath

p.s.- Today a certain incident made me think about memories...memories of those days gone by...i donno, just wish Mallya would take over this place soon...
:D

Image - Google

A Lady, The Lady.

Posted in By Eon Heath 30 comments



I was born to give life,
I lived to nurture it,
I love, so I am…

They seek, for they believe
I am their mother,
And I can set them free…

They try to capture,
What they forget
Is not theirs…

I endure in silence,
Their wounds of lies,
For I know pain…

I carry their guilt,
Of robbing my soul,
For they themselves are weak…

I play their acts,
Of many a roles,
For its them I deceive…

I walk in shadows,
And give them my light,
For their blindness I pity…

They say am caged,
To the chains of their mercy,
Ignorance is my bliss…

I laugh and cry,
At these mortal beings,
For I am the woman they seek…


Ok, the image, well its a painting by Raja Ravi Varma. and its not for the painting that i wrote these lines, but infact after writing those words when i thought about the type of picture that i needed, all i could think of was, the person who first showed me this picture. To tell more about her would be like a story of an eternity, for we know each other since i donno, since my brains got the power to know i guess...(Though it may not seem so, but its a real long time back!!)


Hey, miss you... :)


Regards,
Eon Heath...(***di)

By the Window, She stands...

Posted in By Eon Heath 42 comments



The sun shines high,
The alleys stay deserted...
The night sets in,
Life brews...

They come in herds, men.
To buy what they lack,
A few, to find what they lost.

The alleys sell love,
A filth in light,
Treasured till dawn...

She stands by the window,
Looking for love,
Or selling hers?

Most savage her,
A few savour,
In the end, none care...

She takes them all,
A few lovers,
The rest lechers...

She is tainted,
For she takes
The sorrows of the day...

And yet in the nights,
The very mouths,
Seek her arms solace...

The day rises,
She retreats...
The night engulfs,
By the window, she is...




image - istockphoto

An Accusation.

Posted in By Eon Heath 43 comments

What is a post? What is a poem? Ok, lets us go back. What are words? Still back, why do we write? I have heard and come to believe, that we write to express, and words are the bridge that lets us express. It helps us convey our emotions, feelings that build up inside, and that may be joy, pain, love, hatred, anything.
Bu then, why don’t we sing? Or why don’t we paint? Why don’t we dance? We do. We paint the words to dance, to the tune of our will. To express.

I was told, “Words are sacred, respect them.” And so I did. I always try to check for typos, though at times I overlook them. I try to write the full word and not use our modern “sms lingo” but at times I still do. I try not to be profane. For it would wash off their purity. But then, at times I cannot help, I become weak. I fail to check my language and curse the people who show dis-respect to what I believe is pure.

I write, when I feel the words building in me. I write when am touched inside. Touched by beauty, pain, or love. Today I write, for I am pained and there is dislike and anger. Why? For someone tainted the glass window, that showed me her picture. I know it still doesn’t make sense, what I say, but have patience my friends, for I will reveal my intentions.

People who write have the gift of expressing their thoughts through words. And people who read them, and leave a note commenting on them, have the gift to understand those words. My friends, we all are here on Blogger to express our thoughts and relate to others. To learn from each other. There are no rules for writing. You are free to write anything on your blogs. And the readers have the choice to read what they wish to. We do not follow a blog to get readership for ourselves, nor do we write for comments. We read to understand, to relate, and to communicate. And we write for the same.

Now, suppose a daily scenario, where you read a post and relate to it very well. Next thing, you leave a comment expressing the delight, your joy on being able to relate to it. The beauty, of the authorship, of those words which could touch your soul. Next thing, next time, you are eager to read his compositions, for who could weave such beauty once can surely do it again. You read, you comment. But then, what happens if those words lie? No, words can never lie. It’s the hand that wields the pen that has lied!! And its deceit he has lead you into, for making you believe that those words were his.

Why? Only that person can answer that question. What makes us so selfish to plagiarise someone else’s art and name them ours? Why can’t we appreciate the beauty of those words? Why do we have to darken our souls and steal?
Yes, this post is about it. Plagiarism. A dreaded word for an author. A sign of disrespect towards a gift. Blasphemy it is.

My dear friends, I wish put in front of your judgement, a situation. A fellow blogger has posted a write up under his name and collected all the accolades for it. Not anywhere has he mentioned the slightest of the hint that those words weren’t his.

The source from where it has been copied is not “Blogger” and the post is not a recent one. In fact, the person whose actual work it is, is a lady who had posted it way back on Nov 20th 2007. The link for which is this, and the link of the post, whose authenticity I question is this.

Sourav Pandey, I wish to hear from you. I wish you would drop a comment here on my blog. The person whose blog you have plagiarised is not my friend. The only relation we have is, we write. Yes, we WRITE. For me, writing is sacred gift. I respect it. You may claim that person to be you, for the author is incognito, but then, I ask, why would you write portraying yourself as a Lady? So I rule out the chance of it to be you.

Still if you do prove it your own, I promise you to write an apology similar to this accusation and post it here.

You have 372 followers and 1352 people liking your work. I feel disgusted thinking of the way you misguided them. For you lied to your friends, who admired your work. Conveniently, you have your comments moderated or I would have posted these very words of mine on your blog.

I challenge you to stand up.

Regards,
Eon Heath.
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