The fact about Poets



I was waiting eagerly for this book. I loved the concept and plus it’s a novel cum comic. This time, my online purchase is a non-fictional story made very humorous and a lot more fun. This story is based on a difference machine which was made my Lovelace and Babbage many decades ago. No…No…I am not here to review this book. It’s been just two days that I have been reading this and reached page 50 by taking out some alone time from my busy schedule. This book is about the facts. Yes, about the facts we didn’t know when the invention of the computer was in progress. It was today that I came across another fact about poets written in this book. Well, I write some damaged poems which you all readers tend to like by sympathy and comment over it. Moreover, the blogs that I follow are poetic, majorly. This is why I thought to bring this to my blogger friends notice about the fact that I read in thist book. 

First and for most, I would like to recommend this book to all the thorough book readers like me. Those who like historical stories. I know, I have read only 50 pages and it’s too soon to review it on the blog. But, believe me. You’ll too enjoy this comic book. 

Now moving towards the aim of this post. On page no. 47 of this book, I found the author mentioned that she discovered in her study of 2003 from the issue 27 written by James C. Kaufman, “The Cost of the Muse: Poets Die Young”, which found that poets really do die significantly younger than other writers. Writers of poetry die on average six years earlier than writers of non-fiction, and writers themselves die younger than normal people by two and a half years. The author of this comics did some actuarial statistics of her own and calculated that the average lifespan of a major Romantic poet was 47.2 years (John Keats and Byron [Byron is the character from above-mentioned comic] really throw off the curve, by dying at twenty-five and thirty-six). Determining by how much poetry was shortening their lifespan depends on if you compare them to the average Englishperson in 1830 (47.1 years), or to the average Englishperson in the top 10 percent by income, which was fifty-one years. Coleridge beat the odds, in any case; he lived to sixty-one. 

From my side, I didn’t do any investigation or research over this even after I am the researcher by profession. I do a lot and lots of experiments and to determine about this study will obviously is a very complicated task. It will be like to find many Poets and make them write a huge number of poems and watch when do they die?  But yes, a researcher asks many questions and this is what is happening in my mind now. According to me, a poet sets free him/herself from the cage of thoughts, grief and also the delight. So eventually this means, they aren’t slaves of some heartbreak or negligences. They feel happy, they write about it. As simple as that. I think the early death may be due to the most critical situations in their lives. It will be just a coincidence that they were all poets. 

A Poets is a Poet when they are craved to write about their feelings. They even can’t stop themselves into scribbling their words in a format of effective reading. So, I am not going to stop at all irrespective of my writer’s block, my busy schedule or the fact about poets die early. I am actually happy to know this fact from my loving comic. I hope you too are glad to find it out from this article. 

Thank you for reading and keep poeting 😀 😀 😀 

A walk to remember



With very slow and fast  pace
To keep up the speed with each other
Timeless silence
Makes awkward to walk further.
It’s really difficult
To find what’s on your mind
How can I speak?
If you aren’t interested these times.
Our conversation hasn’t started
Terminated with a bye.
After knowing I was upset
You didn’t try to ask the reason behind.
Our walk will never be resumed
Nor we will reach our objective
I’ll bid you a happy journey
You’ve already found someone new!!!

It’s complicated.


I raise my hands, I get down on my knees

It’s my time, come arrest me.

Even if I haven’t committed a crime nor any sin

I want you to shut me out, shut me out

Into the cube where I be for years and ages

So my memory is erased, my pain is constrained.

Please shut me out, Shut me out.

I don’t want to hear anyone

Their fake promises and world of magicians

The fairytale in the way they talk

Disappears in the cloud like water in the smog.

Better to get it at ease by shoving them away

Else they will make my life complicated again.

So it’s better Shut me out, shut me out.



Out of reach!


I am rude

I don’t wanna be

There’s a force grabbing me into it

Please don’t believe on what you see

Right now, I am not the real one visible to anybody!

You can never find me

Nor, you can bring me back

The hatred has taken its control over all of me

Until I try to return from the past!

I am out of reach from everyone

Even from my heart and mind

They are not coordinating well

I am getting noticed that I am not fine!

People who know me

Tell, I am working absently

People who are trying to know me

Tell, Am an example of insanity

So, distance yourself from me

I feel like an exploding bomb!

The burning sensation

The unending confusion

All I care about what’s right and wrong!

I don’t care about making new friends

That is not a hurdle anymore

Maybe the problem is,

I am not sure of what I am looking for!

Stuck between people and work

Am stuck
Am drowned
I cannot figure things out.
I need a help, please hear my shouts.
To face new people, to make new friends.
How can we believe on someone?
Who to keep as stranger and accept as friend?
I have lost my confidence.
I like to be on my own.
Let me concentrate.
Just leave.
I want to work alone.
Am always good and work superb than anyone else.
Always one step ahead.
So I’ll forgive your jealousy
It’s not your fault
It’s just me
Better than the best.

Two faced people

Hey, you there!
How are you doing nowadays?
Oh Am fine, my old friend.
I think, just called me
Stop staring at me
utter some words
or, else if you feel to leave
Get disappear within seconds from my sight.
I know its none of my business anymore
It’s about the friends we were
The persons we were before
Stop flaunting your stupid post on social sites.
You can never be a blessing to someone
Just a curse that needs to be understood
You’ve broken a heart and you’ll do it again to anyone
No matter how close it is to you
Anyways, At last, I said
It’s really nice to meet you.
Get lost, you’re just pretending to be real
So, stop wasting my time.

This is who you are Mr. ex

Let’s make memories you said
Not from the bright end, you meant
It was about something dark hidden in you
I tried to vanish it in blues.
You abandoned me to search for something new
I may be the worst person you ever met
And the one you’ll never get
I don’t care who you are with
Because you’re just a maniac with flapping wings.
I knew, the darkness has eaten you up all
You’re its hostage
You’re a Con.
Now again you are looking for someone to save you
Out of the drama and hell of the emotions
You want people to go through.
You are playing the same game
You will never be ready to settle in
Listen, no one can actually help you
Until you realize your mistake by leaving me.
You want a person to be near you
Always and ever
Begging you to not leave and just stay.
You are the junkie of fast food
That everyone likes to have
But its better if it is thrown away in garbage
With the things, those are harmful.