created this blog long back but didn't post any piece coz i feel m usually bad @ expressing using the right words. I'm more conscious and worried bout the tenses which i use.
I have suddenly decided to start blogging just bcause all of my batchmates in hostel are leaving and i don't have anything else to do.
i need to accept the truth and try enjoying being alone like the solitary reaper...
i hope i keep improving and start writing my pieces using the correct form of vocabulary...
( even right now when i've already written the above i am sure i must have made so many grammatical mistakes) ..[:)]
I have suddenly decided to start blogging just bcause all of my batchmates in hostel are leaving and i don't have anything else to do.
i need to accept the truth and try enjoying being alone like the solitary reaper...
i hope i keep improving and start writing my pieces using the correct form of vocabulary...
( even right now when i've already written the above i am sure i must have made so many grammatical mistakes) ..[:)]
btw wt u dng so early in the net and not studying huh????
ReplyDeletehmmm ..nothing to write ths time bt yaa i'l keep visiting ur blogs n wl surely add something nxt tm.
ReplyDelete@leelo:
ReplyDeleteyep dear...dis is when i felt the tinge of the 'height of hopelessness and uselessness' within me....d feeling is pathetic..!!!
@ neki:
ReplyDeletethanx 4 cheking in...do continue reading and hope u'ud enlighten me with ur valuable ideas & suggestions...heheh..
No worry about grammars.....just express....if possible without saying a word.....
ReplyDeletehahaa..would have surely opted for that if it was possible...well...may be someday..
ReplyDeleteBehold her, single in the field,
ReplyDeleteYon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?
Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
William Wordsworth
hahah..i guess...dats not me but...heheh...
ReplyDelete