hope it is not, but not despair too || Rationale

The sky that shears the edge of this darkened nothingness

Shall breed the light of solitude, and save

A brilliant hope. For when the long gone summer

Returns the light of a million smiles, I shall be ready to recede.

Father and Son

This is an incomplete poem. I tried writing this one after coming back from a recent trip back home. No matter how much I tried to think how this one should end, I just didn’t seem to know. So I put it up as it was ... hope some of you will try and help me finish it. Leave me a comment.

Father and Son.

Written on your face, I see

All the stories of your life so far…

All your thoughts and every muse,

That made the man – today, you are.

With your hand and on your steps,

That’s how I’ve learnt to lead my way….

And, with the light of your wisdom on me,

All my fears have steered away.

I’ve seen the world like you wanted me,

And wondered how I’ve so pensive grown.

I know you fear that I’ll float away,

Like a boat that sails the seas alone.

the last paragraph stands incomplete

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author claims no rights for the above photograph

Biddings || Pax Mortalis

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....

To L. H.




Sweet slumber cometh only to the peaceful mind,
For the mortal needs to rest....
And, if there's not beauty in the things you see,
My biddings have gone in waste..

Sad and hurt, this heart of mine,
Doeth enough to rouse a fire…
Yet, strands of you don’t cease to fill,
The barrenness of this vacant mire…


To part with what I have with me,
To fray this cloak i wear…
To be in love, is just a point in time,
When the mind’s without fear…


To stop this fight and live a life,
I’d make my conscience clear…
But, sadly will you tell me why,
That we’ve made this fight so dear?

... ion

Dreams

Dreams

As the last of the day’s hopes give way to sweet slumber, my imagination remains active. I’m not sure where it is that it wants to wander off today, but my eyes are tired. Yes, they are. Tired after the thousand faces they’ve found and rested upon during their day-long expedition. Their search continues.

Soon I shall slip off into another world. There is nothing that can stop me. There will be roads that won’t end, and there will be places unknown. And all that I’ll see will be the sepia hue, derived from long evocative memories.

There will be flashbacks, and there will also be pictures that there never were. Some will make me happy, and there will be others I would disown. But before I close my eyes, there’s just the one thing I remember – …but I’ve promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep…

Strawberry Fields Forever

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a still from the movie of the same name

Little red bubbles of love, you call them.

Trembling voices and figuring woes, gather momentum

As we walk across the misty trails, like two souls lost

In abandoned passion, and the valley’s grass gently crushed underneath.

When you speak, the words fill up my mind.

Staying awhile, I know, I might find one more dream in your eyes.

As your fingers run through my hair a voice escapes me....

You're here today, it says.

Blinded, I am, but I feel your piercing gaze

Run down my face, an inch at a time,

Its placid charity echoing your warm touch.

Only, you are here today , and it is beautiful.

Not sure if you figure what you see in these eyes,

I can see your lips curl up into a smile, as you let me

Walk you through these strawberry fields.

Just a promise lingers – forever

Ruff and Me

Ruff and I absolutely love it at the park. So when I have the time I take him there in the evenings. “A little exercise like that is exactly what the two of you need”, my doctor tells me. But I think he’s read too much into the annual med test reports. But then things like chasing down the Ice-cream Man and putting his face through the park fence trying to reach out at a ball on the other side really gives him a kick. I don’t mind letting him act once in a while, in the way he used to when I brought him home with me. As I sit on the bench pretending to read the paper, I actually watch him be his inquisitive self. I think he knows that. Sometimes, I think he knows more about me than I know about him.

Usually, we find a lot of children playing around in the park in the evenings. I guess, the two of us just love sitting there watching the kids play. A lot of them bring their Frisbees. They are usually of bright colours. Some are conventionally beautiful and some exotically so. I think he likes the Frisbees more than the kids. I’ve often seen him watching the Frisbees fly past him, even as he sits without a wag in his tail or a rub on his belly (the two things he does best). I sometimes wonder, “What is this guy so thoughtful about?” when he’s busy watching the kids play. That he’s never chased down a Frisbee, is rather strange. Back home if I were to show you one piece of furniture which did not have the impressions of his teeth, I would fail miserably. So, it came as quite a surprise when he finally did what I had thought he’d never do.

It was one of those beautiful evenings in spring, a couple of years back. We had just settled down on our usual bench when I noticed this group of kids playing with a Frisbee. And, this dark blue plastic thing reflected the setting sun’s rays, off it, every time they threw it around. It was simple yet enigmatically beautiful. More importantly, it had taken Ruff's fancy. It had started to make him edgy as I could tell form the way he had started breathing now. I knew exactly what he was thinking. I knew him too well for that. “I have got to re-hook the chain to his collar”, I thought. Even as I groped around for his chain I could see the nervous energy in him reach threshold.

But, before I could even shout out his name, he had turned his head around. My orders never mattered, but tonight I didn’t want to give him one anyway. And, in any case it was too late. A smile escaped me as he leaped to his feet, sprinted right at the object of his desire, dodged the bewildered 6 year old in the way, jumped, caught it right out of the air and crashed.

The sun’s rays continued to hit my eyes off the Frisbee, now held tightly between his teeth.

His droopy little eyes assured me “... we are fine ... ” … I didn’t doubt him. Never have.

Writer's Block - The Lighter Side.

I don’t think I have stumbled upon a Writer’s Block, ever in life. But, sometimes I simply lose track of my ideas after I have written a line like “… I always knew that after such a dinner the water in the pan might come to a boil the next morning …”



For me a writer’s block is just one of those amusing things. Simply put, that’s because I am not a writer. I love to call myself a simple human being who’s partially in control of his senses in a way that serves his sanity with decent doses of pride and humility. So, sometimes when I’m too scared to wake up my roommates in the middle of the night to tell them about one of my “eureka moments” I generally end up writing. That’s how I write, rarely and unexpectedly. But that is hardly the point of today’s discussion. So here is what I feel about a Writer’s Block.

So, if I were asked to write about a Writer’s Block, then probably the first thing that would come to my mind would be the image of a constipated poet. Something I call the “there-but-not-quite-there” phenomena. One can only imagine the frustration. But here I am, going through one myself, doing just that. It is a funny thing to have, really.


I usually try and think of nice words that will impress you with the very first line that you’ve read. And, not just nice words, they ought to be funny as well because I also have to collect those brownie points from you. But I’m still not there because apart from being nice and funny, these also have to have an aesthetic appeal so that they really gel well with the nice formatting that I have already thought of. And, Oh! It will be an add on if a few of these words also go by the English Dictionary, both individually as well as when arranged together in some form of a combination. Mighty difficult stuff, huh! And after having spent an hour or so on the very first line I have again done the inevitable: completely forgotten what the whole idea was all about. All in all, it is a Jack Black rock show. CRAZY!

I am not a good reader either. Even though my reading exploits do cover a little more than the “about me” sections of peoples’ profiles on social networking sites, I have hardly ever looked beyond the sports section of the newspaper. The good thing about this is the fact that it hardly ever makes me feel guilty of having systematically murdered English language with sentences like “hw u doin ma man…” or “chck out tht rack man.. cmpltly dope! ” I mean, where are the Police? I don’t see any.

But then, even Will Shakespeare in the movie ‘Shakespeare in Love’ is seen suffering from a Writer’s Block but eventually ends up having an affair with the very hot Viola (played by Gwneth Paltrow). Not a bad deal, huh! So, there is hope, still!

The best thing about going through a writer’s block is the fact that it leaves you with a chance to look life in the eyes and smile a few extra smiles. And all of this is only until a sudden avalanche gains momentum enough to put your ‘constipation’ to rest.


So, I sincerely hope you all have a great Writer’s Block!


PS: let's just hope that with this i've finally been able to kick start this blog which has undoubtedly been suffering a seven-month coma :)

With or without you ....

Your love , so elusive , has rendered my life worth living … when I fall asleep I can see your eyes in those distant picturesque dreams and I fail to wake up to this reality that brings new meaning to the word “ distant “ ….. I cant remember the last time I stopped and stared at an option not leading to your doorsteps … you know me and I presume I know you …. at least I want to …. So slowly does time reveal that you move farther away every time I want to come close … and I am afraid when the clock does strike, I’d be so far behind that my blurred vision would be inadequate to see you in dreams, even .... As I say this I break into a smile and I don’t know why … I really don’t . .Am I scorning myself or is it just that I remembered you trying, in vain, to untangle your hair from the headphone wire ….. . There are so many things that I remember you doing … and I fondly keep recounting them … how can I forget any of them? Aren’t they more important than the other worldly rubbish I go through everyday ?
I so wish that I could tell you that I have these memories of you, stored permanently in my heart that bring me solace when I am about to let go and break into pieces … but they might be emotionally illegal as you’re unaware of their existence …. But I promise to use them well … I do
There’s a certain me in me that tells me you are not meant for me….. but there’s also another me that says “if I can’t be with you in this life … I’ll wait … I’ll wait till this life is over and dealt with “ … Courage, it seems , precedes an emotion that they call love ……..