1)
what dark secrets
hidden there,
scarring her?
face she must
the world though;
her inner fears,
her only foe!
smiling forever
under this mask;
reluctant to reveal
the pain within;
she holds on
head held high.
2)
sitting here with a facade
willing for this anguish to end
which I hide from all
wishing it to go away
let me be free
let me be happy.
I know how a scar feels...though it doesnt hurt too much on a day to day basis, it gives us a disturbing reminder from time to time.
ReplyDeleteBut again, what is happiness? Of all the things I have read, the concept of aristotle appealed the most to me. TO start of with, some considered happiness to be the reward for goodness. But as mentioned in the previous comments, a thing which is good for a person need not be necessarily good in the eyes of an other person. SO the concept of happiness is something volatile...I would say like god. Socrates and plato got closer to the answer when happiness was related to harmonious functioning of parts of a man's soul to preserve subordination of lower to the higher and from rational to non rational thoughts.
But Aristotle's theory stands out because happiness is more or less the central idea of his views. For Aristotle, nature is human nature as a whole. This is both rational and sensuous. His treatment of happiness is in closer contact with experience than that of Plato. The good with which he concerns himself is that which it is possible for man to reach in this life. This highest good is happiness. This must be the true purpose of life as we seek it in all our actions.
Hence happiness has been described as the kind of well being that consists in well doing and supreme happiness is thus the well doing of the best faculty. Pleasure is a subset of such an activity.
WHy all this talk? Because I had a scar once which drowned me in an abyss of sorrow. And to get out of it, I needed some proper reasoning. But the most funny part is, despite all that, the scar always remains.
Regards,
M.
Scars, I know and see so many. This poem captured my heart immensely.
ReplyDeleteHey Manoj,
ReplyDeleteIt is good to see you are reading a lot and that too good stuff. It seems you are even applying those in your life. We are are scarred but it should only make us stronger and resolute. And hope is always there at the end of the tunnel. Please always be positive....
Scars do and will fade away....I to await for that...
:)
Gautami
Dear Tina,
ReplyDeleteGirl, you are just starting out life... So I will only say that think of all the good things and learn from your past mistakes....It will all be Ok.
Love,
Gautami
hehe...I dont really apply what I read. The point I wanted to convey was this : I live behind a kind of a mask as well...my mask being a mental mark over the scars, but as usual scars remain. Physically I am pretty much phlegmatic and there's no question of feigning happiness. Based on how I see things, I am slowly but steadily becoming a nihilist.
ReplyDeleteAnd since I hadnt mentioned in my previous comment, a really good poem.
M.
Dear Manoj,
ReplyDeleteOnly comment about that mask you mention...don't we all have it? Ok, things are not good but why should anything be the way we wish it? Try seeing the other side. You will happy to find it very enriching!! Lectures!! remember I am a teacher..:)
Thanks but you don't have to mention it. If any of my poems makes you think then thats good enough for me!
Take care,
Gautami
Actually there are two poems!!!
ReplyDeleteHappiness is an activity confused with a state and a state which seems to infuse indescriminant varieties of activity with a special energy. Scars are history written in indellable letters of flesh. I enjoyed this rather a lot!
ReplyDeleteScars are indelible. But they fade away too. Atleast I hope for that to happen. Happiness is not that we have to seek outside. Its inside of us and we need only to search for it there. And we do find it in our own little ways.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Russell
Too much raw emotions running in your poem.
ReplyDeleteI like the way you express the bare truth in simple lines.