At times I become too tetchy with an emotional oaf syndrome which I generally nourish and nurture alongwith my creations.
It happened a few months back when I became too spontaneous and wrote off to a magazine in the UK with a poem for their competition.
Naturally, my enthusiasm was danked with cold water as the entry scourged in the first round of selection. It was reasoned, as an inappropriate category, under which I filed my nomination, "Desire" - was meant to be racy enough to keep the readers long awake in bed at night.
Then, I decided to create blog to fan the embers of my poetic jestures raher than sponge on the respected benevolent judges for their appreciations and/or criticisms.
But, it was supposed to come with a meaning - A koine to give insight into the various socio-political, socio-economic and humane facets of exoteric life.
I present you the poem which started it all...
# Speechless through the pane, I see
Spotlees in her beauty, is she
# Foaming the froth of endless crest
Pounding the rocks on boundless breast
# Roaring the fathoms of history
Boring the rivers to mystery
# Checking the deltas here-n-there
Making islands into no-where
# Sailors call for just folk-lore
Tempting All from beaches-shore
# Curls-uncurls All her day
Nibbling sand from her Own bay
# Tub ships on her body drool
Sub marines dive into her pool
# Enjoys the traffic when at her Best
Throwing tantrums at her chest
# A little bit of knocking Mood
And all the fun is over for Good
# If you don't stop teasing around
Dirge of darkness will surround
# A chalky strain of colours line
Where the sun cube drops in Wine.
# Winding through her curvy fars
Breezing through the waves apart
# Coasting on the nearest shore
Boasting of her skills so more...
# Winking at her gorgeous charm
Wonder, how she spreads her arm
# Mystic moment engulfs the fair
Fisher-folk dance above their share
# She chuckles at her own treat
My heart sinks at her retreat
# The day I gain the courage or power
I will cover One Mile to shower!
And, Oh yes, I tried to think of Desire as an impaired child wishing to cover a mile to the sea which he can see daily but not feel.
It is a desire because it is far from reality for him to realize such a small thing as he can now only visualize the lasting feeling.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Please Reply
I invite you all to share a short piece of a prized possession from one of my latest attempts.
Save thy laughter for sometime else
It's pounding on my Soul and Health.
Killer as u r by nature - O Dear
Take a pity on my Heart So Near.
Silky as ur hair flutter
Mark my word - My Genes utter :-
"If u r not my
I will die
Unless and Until u Reply".
The mood is of longing of a love-lorn person waiting for a response for his proposal when his lover has gone far away.
Most of the times we wait unto eternity for someone but our anxiety knows no bounds when they are out of sight as we fail to know if they nurture the same feelings for us.
I reflect on these thoughts and urge you all to make your feelings abreast when there is time, and not wait for the time to ripe!
Save thy laughter for sometime else
It's pounding on my Soul and Health.
Killer as u r by nature - O Dear
Take a pity on my Heart So Near.
Silky as ur hair flutter
Mark my word - My Genes utter :-
"If u r not my
I will die
Unless and Until u Reply".
The mood is of longing of a love-lorn person waiting for a response for his proposal when his lover has gone far away.
Most of the times we wait unto eternity for someone but our anxiety knows no bounds when they are out of sight as we fail to know if they nurture the same feelings for us.
I reflect on these thoughts and urge you all to make your feelings abreast when there is time, and not wait for the time to ripe!
Treasure Hunt
It is almost the end of a long long weekend in France on the occasion marking the end of World War (I) and I am already feeling perturbed, not because the war was over, but, to get back to the moribund practise.
I always need a reason to stay at home, which I enjoy to the hilt!
Actually, at home, I do nothing, and ... this NOTHING is a thing very difficult to manage.
I had penned down a few lines, during these tedious sessions, while trying to manage the "nothings" in my life.
I call this the Treasure Hunt.
I have given a clue, at the end of each paragraph, as to what they would mean to me if I were to superimpose emotions upon them...
# I search for stars in a cloudy night
I look for rains when sunny bright
(whimsical)
# I search for green on barren land
I look for well when filled with sand
(hope)
# I search for diamonds in a closed mine
I look for colours in jasmine
(crave)
# I search for money on the street
I look for comfort in defeat
(comfort/greed)
# I search for melody in drummer
I look for winter in summer
(uncertain)
# I search for taste in toothpaste
I look for refuge in the Chaste
(adventurous)
# I search for knowledge in search engine
I look for problems with my gene
(insatiable)
# I search for hairs on my comb
I look for peace in a silent tomb
(console)
# I search for a house to make it home
I look for faults to call it homme
(humane)
You can find a rhythm of "Search and Look" interlaced in the above stanzas in which I have tried to depict the extremities of life.
I tried to tread a thin path of sample evidence of the beast moulded in the beauty of the little happiness we garner from our day-to-day existence.
But, in the end it is a new beginning for we do not know the road to perfection. And, Perfection is the Quest for which we should embark on our Treasure Hunt in every little thing we do in our life.
I always need a reason to stay at home, which I enjoy to the hilt!
Actually, at home, I do nothing, and ... this NOTHING is a thing very difficult to manage.
I had penned down a few lines, during these tedious sessions, while trying to manage the "nothings" in my life.
I call this the Treasure Hunt.
I have given a clue, at the end of each paragraph, as to what they would mean to me if I were to superimpose emotions upon them...
# I search for stars in a cloudy night
I look for rains when sunny bright
(whimsical)
# I search for green on barren land
I look for well when filled with sand
(hope)
# I search for diamonds in a closed mine
I look for colours in jasmine
(crave)
# I search for money on the street
I look for comfort in defeat
(comfort/greed)
# I search for melody in drummer
I look for winter in summer
(uncertain)
# I search for taste in toothpaste
I look for refuge in the Chaste
(adventurous)
# I search for knowledge in search engine
I look for problems with my gene
(insatiable)
# I search for hairs on my comb
I look for peace in a silent tomb
(console)
# I search for a house to make it home
I look for faults to call it homme
(humane)
You can find a rhythm of "Search and Look" interlaced in the above stanzas in which I have tried to depict the extremities of life.
I tried to tread a thin path of sample evidence of the beast moulded in the beauty of the little happiness we garner from our day-to-day existence.
But, in the end it is a new beginning for we do not know the road to perfection. And, Perfection is the Quest for which we should embark on our Treasure Hunt in every little thing we do in our life.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Spirit of a Feather
With all my work, I am not sure if I actually notice anything around me.
This happened a few days back while I was on my way to the office and was a bit late.
I quite fell upon a cute little "Bird" on wheelchairs, cheering his other little friends in the football ground. It is not something I readily capture, but there was a certain element of longing in his eyes, to fly in the middle of the match, that I could not overlook.
I am not emotional but this incident infected me for sometime.
The whole day I was immersed in the look I had observed.
It is then that I made it a point to pen it down...
Like a feather I fly with a 'tuft' of
- a wind/
Like a feather I dance to the song of
- a wing...
Like a feather I swing to the moods of
- age/
Like a feather I cling to the beard of
- sage...
Like a feather I head to the east or
- west/
Like a feather I made to the crest of
- zest...
Like a feather I float on a boat of
- dream/
Like a feather I gloat on a sundried
- beam...
Like a feather I joke with a storm
- Enraged/
Like a feather I soak on a stone
- Encaged !!!
Perhaps, the way of life in France is cosy enough for the kid to have an automated wheelchair, but it does not differentiate him from the less privileged kids back in India. Entirely, both are on the same plane of paralyzation to feel any better at their points of numbness.
Now, I feel more gifted than before and will pledge to complain a little less to God.
A feather in the wings of a bird wishes to engage the storm and be responsible for the consequences at its own free will rather than to shred from the wings in a cage.
Nobody is Invincible, but, without a challenge, nobody is Alive!
This happened a few days back while I was on my way to the office and was a bit late.
I quite fell upon a cute little "Bird" on wheelchairs, cheering his other little friends in the football ground. It is not something I readily capture, but there was a certain element of longing in his eyes, to fly in the middle of the match, that I could not overlook.
I am not emotional but this incident infected me for sometime.
The whole day I was immersed in the look I had observed.
It is then that I made it a point to pen it down...
Like a feather I fly with a 'tuft' of
- a wind/
Like a feather I dance to the song of
- a wing...
Like a feather I swing to the moods of
- age/
Like a feather I cling to the beard of
- sage...
Like a feather I head to the east or
- west/
Like a feather I made to the crest of
- zest...
Like a feather I float on a boat of
- dream/
Like a feather I gloat on a sundried
- beam...
Like a feather I joke with a storm
- Enraged/
Like a feather I soak on a stone
- Encaged !!!
Perhaps, the way of life in France is cosy enough for the kid to have an automated wheelchair, but it does not differentiate him from the less privileged kids back in India. Entirely, both are on the same plane of paralyzation to feel any better at their points of numbness.
Now, I feel more gifted than before and will pledge to complain a little less to God.
A feather in the wings of a bird wishes to engage the storm and be responsible for the consequences at its own free will rather than to shred from the wings in a cage.
Nobody is Invincible, but, without a challenge, nobody is Alive!
Jar-Gone
The word "Jargon" means a term or phrase which is above common usage because it is only understood in specific circles.
I beg to take exclusive privilege (of my own) to massacre this terminology to fit this composition. According to my understanding, anything beyond comprehension of a layman is a Jargon.
Now, Jar-Gone (as is seen from the Title of this post) intends to bring out the complexity in the development of a human brain, which is still now a matter of subject for many to master. Hence I am justified when I call it a Jargon or Jar-Gone.
You will sympathize with this caricature only when you delve into the following few lines...
# There was Jar in my head/
Like a coccoon it lay dead/
With the drop of reasons it fed/
Sucking the blood from veins till red.
# The moons passed from -> new to full/
Helping me to be a -> few to fool/
The message was clear -> never to drool/
I felt I was -> a bit too cool!
# Today the coccoon has coloured wing/
I feel it like a fluttering thing/
The Jar is still in my head/
The lid is gone as I had said.
# Now, "Empty vessels make more noise"/
As if I had any better choice...
The human brain grows from young to old, from energetic to sloth.
But I perceive it from a mere spot to an infinite speck in my composition.
It always treads on the thin line of the Known and Unknown calculations, challenging our our very existence every second of our life.
It has been my prerogative to listen to my brain over my heart.
Now it is time I advise you all to follow your heart ... for, when the coccoon flies out of your Jar, it will be yet another Jar-Gone!
I beg to take exclusive privilege (of my own) to massacre this terminology to fit this composition. According to my understanding, anything beyond comprehension of a layman is a Jargon.
Now, Jar-Gone (as is seen from the Title of this post) intends to bring out the complexity in the development of a human brain, which is still now a matter of subject for many to master. Hence I am justified when I call it a Jargon or Jar-Gone.
You will sympathize with this caricature only when you delve into the following few lines...
# There was Jar in my head/
Like a coccoon it lay dead/
With the drop of reasons it fed/
Sucking the blood from veins till red.
# The moons passed from -> new to full/
Helping me to be a -> few to fool/
The message was clear -> never to drool/
I felt I was -> a bit too cool!
# Today the coccoon has coloured wing/
I feel it like a fluttering thing/
The Jar is still in my head/
The lid is gone as I had said.
# Now, "Empty vessels make more noise"/
As if I had any better choice...
The human brain grows from young to old, from energetic to sloth.
But I perceive it from a mere spot to an infinite speck in my composition.
It always treads on the thin line of the Known and Unknown calculations, challenging our our very existence every second of our life.
It has been my prerogative to listen to my brain over my heart.
Now it is time I advise you all to follow your heart ... for, when the coccoon flies out of your Jar, it will be yet another Jar-Gone!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Elegy of Technology
It decimates me, deceivingly, the value of education and the life we lead today and the pace with which we set off to complete our years.
Sometimes we do not gauge the purpose of our being. Sometimes we do not have a goal.
If we did not have the birthdays to celebrate we would not even stop to count our age!!!
Most of our objective is to stand in a line (very robotic!!!) and follow suit. For SURVIVAL.
I am also part of this mockery and I do not deny it.
But I find time to dream, occasionally, to change all that...
The erudite devil resident in me justifies the moral of my immaterial words.
The illiterate saint stands a step closer to accomplishing a lifetime of separation...
Reach out in the open land/
Far from the work-at-hand
The dreams of all the electronic flair/
Nourished in my blood with care
Seemed so futile at the wee hours/
Like Petals dried gray in flowers
Sent off to a Racing start/
From my comfy Rocking art
Struggle-fight-Show-thy-might/
Invincibly cast their delight
Every mile of lust uncast/
Earthly fevers of sarcast
Mirrors suggest a heavy chest/
Inner-Outer both unrest
Growing trauma of demand/
Parents-wife-children remand
Squared-off, the seasons moan/
Gathered riches or Happy loan?
Renting sorrow from a careless borrow/
Or, narrow-hollow from the wealth furrow?
The blackhole of successful ploy/
Eclipsed the lifetime of Joy
Mere suffering has less pains/
Second stands the heavenly gains.
Sometimes we do not gauge the purpose of our being. Sometimes we do not have a goal.
If we did not have the birthdays to celebrate we would not even stop to count our age!!!
Most of our objective is to stand in a line (very robotic!!!) and follow suit. For SURVIVAL.
I am also part of this mockery and I do not deny it.
But I find time to dream, occasionally, to change all that...
The erudite devil resident in me justifies the moral of my immaterial words.
The illiterate saint stands a step closer to accomplishing a lifetime of separation...
Reach out in the open land/
Far from the work-at-hand
The dreams of all the electronic flair/
Nourished in my blood with care
Seemed so futile at the wee hours/
Like Petals dried gray in flowers
Sent off to a Racing start/
From my comfy Rocking art
Struggle-fight-Show-thy-might/
Invincibly cast their delight
Every mile of lust uncast/
Earthly fevers of sarcast
Mirrors suggest a heavy chest/
Inner-Outer both unrest
Growing trauma of demand/
Parents-wife-children remand
Squared-off, the seasons moan/
Gathered riches or Happy loan?
Renting sorrow from a careless borrow/
Or, narrow-hollow from the wealth furrow?
The blackhole of successful ploy/
Eclipsed the lifetime of Joy
Mere suffering has less pains/
Second stands the heavenly gains.
U and Us
Friends, we often have trysts with visions of fulfilment that had in some way evaded us in the past and we would like to live in the shades of the memories.
Memories, some haunting - some soothing , but all give a hope of tomorrow when everything will be fine.
And, in this relentless quest for Tomorrow, for what we missed in Past, we waste a lifetime of energy and opportunity in the Present.
I have read Paulo Coelho, say, in one of his memorable works, "When you want something in life, the entire Universe conspires in letting you have it!".
I believe him, but I am, after all, Human. And, I cannot resist the lust to be careless, at times, though ...
# Thinking of you All night/
I had a dream in my heart
Like the sky dons the stars/
A sheet of dark velvet scarf
Spotted with the sparkle of your Laugh/
The brightness of your Love.
# So beautiful was this sight/
The moon stood a witness
The Sun forgot to Rise/
I kept watching - You kept laughing
The Night was so Quiet !
# All of a sudden, the dew of Love/
Fell on your hand
And shivering with excitement/
You strung on my senses
The faith in me was Shattered/
By the disbelief of Joy.
# Were it you, Or were your Not?/
Yes! I could feel you...
I could fight for you...
I could care for you no More/
No Mortal can ever Ignore you.
# But, tonight, you are mine/
Be mine forever ~
AND, The Romance of Success
Was All Around Me,
Unto the Silent Night.
Memories, some haunting - some soothing , but all give a hope of tomorrow when everything will be fine.
And, in this relentless quest for Tomorrow, for what we missed in Past, we waste a lifetime of energy and opportunity in the Present.
I have read Paulo Coelho, say, in one of his memorable works, "When you want something in life, the entire Universe conspires in letting you have it!".
I believe him, but I am, after all, Human. And, I cannot resist the lust to be careless, at times, though ...
# Thinking of you All night/
I had a dream in my heart
Like the sky dons the stars/
A sheet of dark velvet scarf
Spotted with the sparkle of your Laugh/
The brightness of your Love.
# So beautiful was this sight/
The moon stood a witness
The Sun forgot to Rise/
I kept watching - You kept laughing
The Night was so Quiet !
# All of a sudden, the dew of Love/
Fell on your hand
And shivering with excitement/
You strung on my senses
The faith in me was Shattered/
By the disbelief of Joy.
# Were it you, Or were your Not?/
Yes! I could feel you...
I could fight for you...
I could care for you no More/
No Mortal can ever Ignore you.
# But, tonight, you are mine/
Be mine forever ~
AND, The Romance of Success
Was All Around Me,
Unto the Silent Night.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Looming Thoughts
I would like to begin with one of my compositions which is cynical but has a deep-rooted expression embedded in the lines.
To befit a promising start, I reconcile the road to friendship in exactly what I do not wish to believe....
Scavenging on a Notion/
Far from the Land,
Speaking with a Vengeance/
Scars on the Hand,
Scattering bloody Fashion/
Aye, Dracula Band!!!
See - Here Hate is Ration/
In times of Sand.
I hope my future endeavours would rise above the meaning to fulfill an enriching journey.
To befit a promising start, I reconcile the road to friendship in exactly what I do not wish to believe....
Scavenging on a Notion/
Far from the Land,
Speaking with a Vengeance/
Scars on the Hand,
Scattering bloody Fashion/
Aye, Dracula Band!!!
See - Here Hate is Ration/
In times of Sand.
I hope my future endeavours would rise above the meaning to fulfill an enriching journey.
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