Filling in the Blanks- a Daydreamer’s Delirium

Sometimes, not so often, but regularly yet

The colors disappear.

On rain-soaked evenings or cloudy noons

My story-telling mind lets me down.

And all my selves that never were-

All those colorful powerful happening selves

I gave myself cease to excite me.

The bleakness makes her presence felt

Like the constant dripping sound of water

Running down an overworked tap.

I grope around in the blank grayness

To regain my lost fantasies.

Am I insane or ill?

Why can’t I live as I am?

I fear me sometimes- I fear my dreams.

And I fear the illusory happiness I run after,

My idle imaginations-if they engulf me

Or worse: melt away when the future comes-

The future of all the extra-ordinary happenings

Which I have kept at bay over the years,

When it at last arrives and the dreams shatter,

Will I be able to live and love?

When I finally out-grow my wishful fairy-tales

Will I be able to fill in the blanks?

P.S: The accompanying picture is a landscape painting by Tim Postell


  1. every line has a unusual imagery, different and specific that'd persuade one to stop and think....i don't know what you were thinking when you wrote it, but am sure every one can see something in this brilliant poem.
    a silente scream of a lost soul....perfect!!!


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