It has been a long hiatus.
This blog has remained like that neglected piano at the end of the room, gathering dust, and nursing memories of times when I had more time to spare.
It has been a more turbulent year, but one of the more positive outcomes is that my modest efforts at writing have finally gone from the confines of this blog, to more promising locations.
A magazine, of the online kind.
As long as the 8th issue is live, you can read my first published poem, "If, on a winter's night" here.
A writer's first publication is probably his most cherished, one that he remembers even when the pages have yellowed, and it has long disappeared from the memory of the few who read it. This poem is a particular favorite of mine, not only because of its significance as my first published piece, but also because it was one of my earlier poems, which I have recited in a number of open mics, and polished and revised numerous times according to many suggestions. I have seen it evolve and change, each time making a faint attempt to cling on to the previous version, to words which were written with long thought and care. I had written this about two years ago, during a snowy East coast Christmas, spent far from home. I can still feel the wintry melancholy in that lazy afternoon, when I penned those words. And yes, I was reading a lot of Yeats at that time, in case you have noticed the obvious influence of style.