Skip to main content

Dear Gretta

 


Dear Gretta, 

  

Your songs are like a poem that was long forgotten, that gives a dejavu everytime I listen to it. It  reminds me of New York City where you felt alone, where you were ditched by Dave and where you found yourself through Dan. You were never ready to compromise, you  were fully conscious of what you were doing and never doubted your own instincts.


Even when you felt a connection with Dan, you helped Violet to reconnect with him, bringing out the beautiful guitarist in her, which eventually got him back to his family. Yet you smiled for being the reason behind reuniting Dan with his family, you smiled even when you knew that this would leave you all alone again. You gave yourself truly into your songs that you could not tolerate the loss of its essence, the mere commercialization of it.  You breathed music, danced and walked with it. Even when you knew that those are fleeting moments, the moments in New York City where every song in your playlist gave meanings to every banal scenes, you lived it being true to the core. 


When your songs gave meanings to the life of many people, the invisible musicians, the lost musicians, and mostly lost people, you discovered yourself, you smiled contently at the closure you made with certain people and the emptiness that got filled with music. And when you paddled your bicycle through the New York City, ready to embrace the magic that your life has in store, ready to turn every single moment into a song, I understand sometimes it is loneliness, helplessness and the ability to be always true to ourselves that shows us right path, that takes us to our road, even when it means gaining very little for ourselves.


Love,

Someone from one of the banal scenes.


A. C

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Shuli’s Love

  Shuli washed her hair twice that day. One for her love to cleanse  all impurities of reality  and one for herself. She took a nap twice  that day. One for love that took  her melatonin, And another to forget. Shuli laughed twice that day. One on behalf of her tainted  Love, And another on her botched brain  cells. She cried a quarter that day. Half a quarter filled with anger, and the other half with shame. She danced twice that day, One for lost time on love, And another for her love for dance. Shuli wrote twice that day, One for her heart and  Other for her brain. She gave two hugs that day, One for her wet pillow And another for herself. Shuli played hostess twice  that day, One for her pain and  the last for her sanity.
Post a Comment
Read more

Little Poem

  My procrastination ends here, While the urge to write chokes my throat, My hands get paralysed as in a trance, I find excuses to write a little poem, I make up a lonely man, a distressed woman, a lovers’ quarrel, an unrequited love, But they are reluctant to play the part, Maybe i should give them a raise, Or throw a party at midnight, Maybe a few drinks might work, Only if they don’t puke. I can expect a little vandalism,  Some damage to the property and a mini scandal, Possibly out of rage. But at the end when I bring my weapons, Sometimes they get scared and back off, Some may never come back, Others find it funny and mock at me, And opportunists, seeing my desperation, Attacks me with manipulation. And all these while, my three panic attacks  talk to me in a different language, I try to write a little poem With a racing heart and flowing eyes, I write my little poem, tortured and broken, I end my little poem, Like a mighty warrior,  Who had a pyrrhic victory.
Post a Comment
Read more

Madeline’s Mirror

  Madeline’s mirror told her she’s fat, It appalled at her shapeless dress, Covering a chunk of flesh. She looked at her broad shoulders  And big breasts,  which reminded her of a pile of  clothes that no longer fits her. But Madeline smiled and applied her eyeliner effortlessly. Her mirror sneered at her  chafing thighs kissing each  other when she moves. Madeline’s mirror found her  plush lips contradicting  the pair of flesh  on either side of it. It spotted the two chins fighting for space like contestants in the combat zone. Madeline admired her freckleless skin, and applied her favourite lipstick. The mirror reflected  her flabby arms  complementing her  saggy belly. Madeline moved closer  to her mirror,  which still in oblivion,  started to produce sympathetic smiles at her legs. It mirrored how her legs carry all the weight, hiding under her flowy dress. Appreciating her silky hair and perfectly manicured...
Post a Comment
Read more