Pencil shavings and Coffee stains

Leave a comment

27/10/2015 by Siddiqui Fayesal

Coffee stains on the
Pencil shavings laid

The ruffling of the paper
Gone quiet,
And the thought in its
Path somewhere stuck.

The pen that freely
Now lay unused in
The company

Of the dormant stretch
Of line
That cleaved the
Paper on its journey.

Poets come and poets
But the soul of their poetry
Dies not.

Once the hand that wrote
These rhymes,
Now dangles useless for
Want of a thought.

Those letters that
Once bled with life,
Now lays dry in their

The poetry lays stifled in their
Rawest form,
Unable to leave,
Unable to breath.

Rhymes don’t meet with
Their meaning,
Nor does the stories
Agree with their masters.

Prose and Poetry make a
Macabre mix,
While the puppet rebel
Against their makers.

The pain of the prose that can
Never be borne,
The melody of the poetry that’ll
Never sway,

The sigh of the poets,
That once were gone,
Now returns as
They walk away.

Siddiqui F.


  1. Paragraphs 1 to 7 along with paragraph 9 were written on 22.10.2014 in CCD at Agripada.
  2. Paragraph 8 and 10 was written at Petit on 30.04.2015.
  3. Paragraph 11 and 12 were written at Petit on 01.05.2015.

What say you???

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


  • 10,224 hits

Click! Click! Click!

Join 381 other followers

Jump to…


You will die the way you lived.

Aamil Shaheen

Delusions of grandeur

The Mundane

Finding the extraordinary in the ordinary.


...a whole buncha Tian'ness.


book reviews and more...

The Musing Quill

A Blog on Writing, Poetry, Short Stories and Books.


لفلسطين الحرية

Murphy's Law

Musings from a Literacy Coach

Literature Is My Porn

"She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live."

Three Magical

Welcome to the inside of my head.

Redeem the Thought

because thoughts become movements


Publishers of Fine Verse from India


"After all, tomorrow is another day."

Getting Loquacious

About life and everything else!


Bridge the Gap , Bring the Change

| Ramble On |

And now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods

The writer gives life to a story, the reader keeps it alive.

Ashish Shakya

Writer. Stand-up comic. General idiot for hire.

schizophrenic dreams

It is Dark, and I like it that way...

necessary means

occasional outbursts on art, philosophy, and life


... well we're going to die anyway!

Pulp & Fiction

We all change when you think about it. We’re all different people, all through our lives, and that’s okay, that’s good. You gotta keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be.

reading interrupted.

because reading also involves the way your head rests on your hand as you lean over a book, the damp mark you leave on a page when reading in the tub, or being interrupted by a

--- Grumpy Comments ---



Sharing knowledge benificial for duniya & akhira

Dad, the idiot

anchoring households for thousands of years

Yeha, Whatever.

(This blog looks boring, intentionally.)

My Musings

Simply Put....its a conglomeration of my thoughts as & when they occur

%d bloggers like this: