Midnight Musing

The night was calm. The moon glowed bright. The leaves were still; winds were on a break. Swarms of fireflies, glowing in between dark branches of trees, seemed to outshine the stars, which could hardly be seen in the smoky city-sky. A young singer lay still on her bed; limbs numb; messy hair; blank face; dry lips, and eyes constantly being washed by a fresh stream of tears. A melancholy lament played in her mind. To call herself a musician! Hardly a month back had she been rejected in the auditions for her dream music show. But that wasn't all. The one who filled her slot was the same girl that she had defeated for four years in a row now. "This must be some wicked game," she had told herself. News like such spread like an epidemic. And soon it was a common word in the streets that the singing prodigy has lost focus; fame had gotten the better of her. To these she tried to turn a deaf ear. "This isn't fair! I'm better than her! I'm good enough!" she...

  It all started when I was eight years old. One Wednesday morning while going through the weekly ‘Telekids’, my eyes stopped at one particular poem, written by a kid nearly of the same age as mine. It was so well written that I kept reading it again and again till my own thoughts had synced with its rhyme and rhythm! That is when I realised how poetry fascinates me, and decided to start composing poetry myself. The next week’s theme was ‘If I were a Superhero’, and I had made up my mind to compose and submit my first ever poem on that theme. Without wasting another moment, I started working on it right away. After hours of brainstorming, scribbling and editing, by the end of the day, I had my first poem ready in front of me. As an eight-year-old, I was very satisfied with my composition, and couldn’t wait to show it to my father as soon as he returned home from work! After reading my poem, my father was visibly pleased, and had promised to send it to the editor for me. My exciteme...