The last poem is not a complete one. Disrupted by the awareness that I was turning up a little late on reaching office and amidst the traffic our Cab had been always on the junctions at wrong time.
But I couldn't resist loading it to blog, as this had become my diary actually. Whether one reads it or not , it s my personal notebook.
I am not sure about whether I will be able to complete those lines.
But it was towards the end of the travel that it came over to me about how even my style has changed.
yesterday I tried to scribble on my note book some lines in Malayalam. But I couldn't proceed after three lines. A kind of block has occurred to my natural style ( language as well as tone).
but surely I do want to get back at my mother tongue very seriously as it can determine my fortunes with in 3 years if everything is going as planned.
Any way I am diverging my focal point about the transformation. As I had talked with Shabin that day there is going to be some love poems on my blog. I could foresee my style of writing. Even in the 'after the dry run' the style has clearly denoted this change, I believe.
From a poet who fumed and repented at everything, wanted to burn away the last vestige of vanity I am turning into something else.
Does it matter or not ? Who cares about the rumbles of an unknown confused guy anyway!!!
1 comment:
you think so..:)
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