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Showing posts from December, 2013

Adieu 2013!

It's that time of year,
Leave all (y)our hopelessnesses aside (if just for a little while)
Tears stop right here,
I know we've all had a bumpy ride(I'm secretly on your side)

These are my favorite lyrics! In times of sorrow, or festivities and especially on a really rough day, I just hum to myself a few lines and wait for the magic to clear my thoughts!

So this year has come to an end, only two more days to wait for 2014--- I have a feeling its gone by quickly. I still remember what I did last year i.e, in 2012 and I wonder if my life is moving at a supersonic speed?!
Usually, I never question myself as to how the year went by but this year I feel like and want to ask myself everything that passed by me!

I am glad for some nice people who have entered my life and spread cheer and happiness within me. Some events were memorable, and some were worth forgetting. Some people I am immensely thankful to and some I am willing to forgive with all my heart! This is how one grows as a …

Marginalia - Billy Collins

Sometimes the notes are ferocious,
skirmishes against the author
raging along the borders of every page
in tiny black script.
If I could just get my hands on you,
Kierkegaard, or Conor Cruise O'Brien,
they seem to say,
I would bolt the door and beat some logic into your head. Other comments are more offhand, dismissive -
"Nonsense." "Please!" "HA!!" -
that kind of thing.
I remember once looking up from my reading,
my thumb as a bookmark,
trying to imagine what the person must look like
why wrote "Don't be a ninny"
alongside a paragraph in The Life of Emily Dickinson. Students are more modest
needing to leave only their splayed footprints
along the shore of the page.
One scrawls "Metaphor" next to a stanza of Eliot's.
Another notes the presence of "Irony"
fifty times outside the paragraphs of A Modest Proposal. Or they are fans who cheer from the empty bleachers,
Hands cupped around their mouths.
"Absolutely," they shout
to D…

To a Young Girl at a Window

by Margaret Widdemer The Poor Old Soul plods down the street,  Contented, and forgetting  How Youth was wild, and Spring was wild  And how her life is setting;  And you lean out to watch her there,  And pity, nor remember,  That Youth is hard, and Life is hard,  And quiet is December. 

About this poem: Margaret Widdemer often wrote in traditional poetic forms, and many of her poems explore the social issues of early twentieth century. She first received widespread attention with the publication of her poem "The Factories," which tackled the subject of child labor. (Source: Academy of American Poets via
At times, I feel glad to be able to read essential poetry and collect it too. While reading this poem I was reminded of "When you are old" by William Butler Yeats.
Is sorrow too private to be concealed under thicknesses of fake contentedness? Do we restrict our compassion toward…