Slow Pace

a quaint old town i pass in my commutes
lined with cafes and rickety-stores
slow life thrives in its cobbled stones,
tantalizing me with its hidden tones
half a mile of this utter bliss, teases
my mind to explore more, corners
where he knows me -and i know him
no one remains a stranger for long.
if i could stop and blend in,
gossip and smiles would welcome me in.
i long to savor and drink in
sites and sounds i once knew, flourished in.

Gloom

this need to vanish,
disappear into thin air
grasps me from time to time
i long to run away, hide my being –
anonymous incognito
from this world, its responsibilities
this feeling- fit for a coward
cloaks me, defeats my discipline
once again I surrender
a prisoner to restlessness.

Tick -Tick

rolling along, often stumbling:
dreaming yesterdays, smiling-
hazy tomorrows, barely caring:
living the moment, not worrying-

befriending enemies, more inviting:

wisdom gained, time ticking.

all -

signs of aging.

****

Time and age slows us down in a good way, won't you agree? Sure the aches and pains increase physically, but there's also the knowledge that this body isn't the be-all and end-all in life. Our hearts grow younger, wiser with age, at least that's how I look at it. The spirit in us stays the same. Of course, the mind would disagree...

Sirshasana

I - Inhale

my forearms push the earth down:
shoulders carry me up with a frown-
burden shifts away from the crown.

II - Exhale

heart and spirit, will not disappoint:
balance and poise, one focal point-
a vertical line, from joint to joint.

III - Breathe

tippy toes fly toward the sky:
the focus is set, gravity i defy-
heady feeling lifts me up high!
different world, from here i spy
my mind rejoices, how i could fly!

****

I have always had this fear of falling over every time I shifted my weight in the other direction. You know the head down, feet up variety. Yeah, I am talking upside down. But I believe in practice and I am a sucker for yoga. So lately I have been suppressing fear or at least trying to suppress my fear to get up on my head. I can do it against a wall, but that’s cheating as many of my peers have told me. The last couple of days I have tried head-stand smack in the middle of a room, fallen over plenty of times too, but I spy victory at last. I think I have learnt to curb my fear and also hold the posture for a few seconds, only seconds. My fear and focus often brings me rolling down - sometimes with a little poise :) Wanted to write about it here, so that I will push harder and practice some more. Also wanted to thank a friend who taught me the right way. Plus this is my seventh day contribution for the poetry month of April. On to my eighth.

Storytelling

gather around in a circle
let’s travel together this vehicle
into times lost to a trickle.
lost worlds, found by the word
vibrant shades discovered
leaving the listener enamored.

******

The art of story telling has always fascinated me. To lead the listener into a world where everything seems real, even momentarily, is a great achievement.

Motherhood.

her eyes speak to me
plenty, curiously questioning
why? silently enquiring
how? religiously following
where? she holds the reins
so very gently, yet firmly
i am hardly aware, oh my!

*****

Reverance can be a burden, for it is often accompanied by responsibility. A parent-child relationship can be tricky and challenging. I find myself in land-mines pretty regularly. This is just a start on how far that responsibilty can go....

Twinkle Star

once upon a star,
you smiled from afar
your humility and compassion -

my sanctuary, my salvation
i held on at all costs,
never imagining your loss
once upon a star,
i longed from afar

****

"Once upon a time..."tales are my favorites. So is the "Twinkle, twinkle, little star" rhyme. Thought would combine the two to come up with something unique, still in the draft version...

Innocence

innocence commands-
i learnt with practice
i am left powerless,
often unarmed-

when all it takes
is one single glance.

****

Partners

hush, there’s a storm

brewing deep within,

words and thoughts

battle- playing to win!

thoughts flow tangled

while words gently ripen-

unraveling the former

loosen the latter with a whirl.

look, there’s a calm

dancing with a spin

words and thoughts

twirl - waltzing in sync.

*****

My mind draws a blank and then fills up with words, thoughts fall apart fighting to be heard. But when they begin to flow in tandem, it is a symphony, a performance, really a wow!

This is a draft, not sure when I would ever get to finish it, but publshing anyway. It is hard to write when I haven't done anything creative in ages. This was a struggle and it is only Day Two.

But it sure is good to be poeming again.

First Scribe

one day at a time,
i intend to scribe
tidbits of rhyme
worth but a dime:
do hop on the ride
to read and write-
for madness is here
month of the insane!

****

April alas! Time flies by fast. Has it really been a year since I embraced this insanity? Last year I, with many others, took up the challenge of writing a poem per day, thirty in total for the month of April. I managed to do it to my very own surprise. I told myself I would never ever do it again, yet here I am trying to attempt another round of addictive behavior. Not sure if I will go beyond the day due to circumstances, I would like to think I will but I hate to make the commitment. I sure hope, my fellow bloggers interested in poetry would take this up and run with it. Here's to a month of creativity and fun. Happy Poetry Month, Everyone!

****
PS: “You call this poetry?” many of you are bound to ask. Well, it is really my poor attempt at it, do bear with me and I challenge you to write better. I will be there to read you.

Lost

lost to myself, lost in my thoughts
my travels touch oh several realms
unknown to the mind these journeys
of mine, wind through deep-dark alleys
searching for the one, to light my eyes
lost to the world, lost in its ravine depths
my wanders unravel several lifetimes.

******

I have driven around in circles for hours on end, lost. I have walked up and down aisles, the same aisles, lost. I have wasted time locating exit signs in closed parking spaces, lost. I have climbed up and down stairwells, the same stairwells in enclosed parking lots, searching for my car, lost. I have looked through people, literally stared through them without any form of acknowledgement, lost. I have no sense of direction, I am absentminded, and I have wasted half my life getting physically and mentally lost. Someday when I do find myself again, my lost de-tours would be well worth a laugh, I hope.

******

For Sunday Scribblings, I am attempting one after a very long time. I could so easily loose myself in this prompt. Thank you.

String-Hoppers.

oodles of ivory-white:
string from left to right-
delicious slippery curls
savory wriggly whirls
melt in my palette, spice
my yester-years to life

****

Idiyappam aka string hoppers made with rice flour, steam cooked and sprinkled with coconut shavings is a breakfast delight I was raised on. Served with a potato stew, it tastes out of this world. Though it has been eons since I ate the likes, how I wish I could taste a bite of those yummy home-made noodles.

*****

Please note that the picture is not mine, but the result of a simple google search. Thanks.

Young Wisdom

giggles and laughter,
grows my daughter:
tickles and squeals,
oh how she appeals-
her inborn innocence
drowns my misgiving,
her curious nature,
sense of adventure,
sparkles and rekindle
my enthusiasm for life-
her deep blinding trust
to this world’s interest,
seizes me, in wonder
reminds me, to reconsider
my own view, cynical -
of universe in general.

there's much wisdom

i've yet to learn

from one so young.

Years Fly

tied arms and limbs,
untangling simply vain
year is gone, but where
another begun, oh when
my struggle for freedom
unheard, unacknowledged
the daily grind called life
refuse to listen, or budge
and so l trudge along slow
tired, these arms and limbs

****

Happy New Year, to all those who usually visit me here. Work has kept me busy, no time for creativity- hoping 2009 will give me a break. Hope all are well, I will try to join in the fun when time permits...the one thing I lack immensely.

No returns

inadvertent lapse
require desperate measures
to get back on track:
realization struck too late-
for she had already bought,

a one-way ticket to the far corners of hell–
one often traveled by many,
one with absolute no returns-
inadvertent as it seems,
no desperate measure could,
would reverse this lapse.

*****

In response to 3ww prompt, also for TOP's prompt.

Contact

Eyes collide, moments are born
tales exchanged on contact alone
great walls erected, tumble down
angry pride banished like cloth worn
powerful connections grown and drawn
as eyes collide and moments are born!

******

a comment from Mampi had me replacing the words "cloth torn" with "cloth worn" Thank you Mampi.

Moments

ripples on the surface
disturbed by splashes
followed by “I did it”s
echo the surroundings

tell me, dear folks,

how would I be bored?
as I settle down relaxed
to watch my three-‘r-old
throw stones in the pond
then screech in delight-
a bundle of excitement,
she is living the moment
without a single complaint

tell me, dear folks, tell me

how easy a habit it is?
to swell with happiness
and pride at her pranks –
when life is filled brinks
with moments like this.

*******

In response to 3WW prompt.

This is also for ReadWritePoem prompt

Journey

the river flows yonder-
gushing with energy
travelling with speed
very much like life, in
pursuit of the unknown

unable to stop yearning,
this need to get entangled
with everything worldly
she hushes and rushes
to be intimate like lovers

when waiting is finally over,
and the goal appears nearer
with happiness within her grasp
inevitable joining but a clasp
why victory still seems unclear?

*******

In response to the 3WW prompt

Alone

precious time slipped,
a million times
bitter words exchanged,
a million times
soulful tears fell unnoticed,
a million times
hurtful remarks smeared,
a million times
pricey moments melted,
a million times
worlds altered, lives changed-
once more, I am alone.

****

In response to 3WW prompt.

Madness

temporary insanity:
i omitted my karma
to gamble with the devil-
predictable outcome:
i sank even deeper

into permanent insanity.

*****

In response to the 3WW prompt

Terrified

a narrow dark hallway,

dim lights lead the way-
she moves with trepidation,
her heart longs salvation-
weary eyes dart side to side:
searching for the lone room,
to quiver and unload in gloom
she finds twenty-seven,
her temporary haven:
fits the key to the door,
escape from the corridor-
to rush in, and lock behind
breathin’, trying to unwind
exhausted and spent-
she collapses on the bed:
only to sit upright
to wait out the night
who would have thought?
terror lurked in her heart-
penniless, her story
fearless, her history!

#########################

In response to the 3WW prompt.

##########################

Curse

i remember my past,

death gripped last-

escape not so fast

i remember my past!

life drove by fast

and left me aghast-

i remember my past,

death gripped last.

****

In response to the TOP prompt, note that the image is not mine, but one from a google search.

In Limbo

edge of the precipice-
catastrophe barely delayed:
focus on the reins

circle’s focus,
know not of edge-
break-in delayed

delayed reflex-
lost my edge it seems,
time to focus

****

In response to the 3WW prompt.

Swordplay

entranced, the spectator follows every beat

a sworplay between equals, building heat
faces hidden beneath scarves, color of beet

battling wills, first clash and then retreat

mutual respect shone as eyes meet and greet

attack and defend, both warriors so elite

an artform majestic, energetic and neat

sinewy movements with a grace discrete

entranced, the spectator cannot take a seat!

*****

For the last day of NaPoWriMo, I give you an artform I really enjoy.

Drugs

a memory, an experience

strong enough to bruise

and erode multiple hearts

sharper than a knife-edge

drawing bloody thoughts

yet one i would relive

over and over again,

till death ends it all!

don't you see? clearly
i am past the point of
no return where regrets
matter, then again not!

for i am captured, addicted

an obedient slave,

with no gate for escape-

without regrets, but waiting

for death to end it all!

******

In response to Sharon's "What do you not regret, though you should?" . This is again an

addict's perspective, or what I imagine to be an addict's perspective. no, I don't do drugs, but

I have encountered a few who do and it is saddening how low a person can sink once addicted.

Life

an array of distractions

punctuate our mundane lives

birth and death iterates

a known process called life

an unexpected votive flicker

lighting paths unknown, hope

comes in handy when life

begins to molder- bruised

by splinters randomly thrown!

Handle such exceptions with care,

or be prepared to lame for life!

*****

For those in the software industry, you are bound to see the basics

often used in a work environment! For others - if you haven't noticed them already

- 'array', 'process', 'handle', 'exceptions' are some of the most common

ones.

*****

In response to Michelle's Friday Five and RWP's jargons prompt.

His & Hers

is that a 'he' or a 'she'?

for the face looks his,

while the form seems hers:

muscled forearm, ragged frame-

their souls are entwined

like him and her combined-

oh yes, i am definite,

it is a she in a he!

two sharing one whole,

dreaming to calm the soul!

relaxed the face,even asleep -

i long for a window to peep

into the hearts buried deep!

*****

In response to Michelle's Monday Mural

Utopia Exists

i seek perfection, true completion

i long for a place of absolution

i have traveled most every corner

searching, digging every quarter-

for as outrageous as this will sound,

may be it is Utopia i want found?

why don't you make with what you've?

why do you run seeking what you cannot have?

if happiness can't be found within -

how will you grasp what lies beyond?

so utilize all that you've at birth

let Utopia flourish on this earth!

*****

As they say, 'Where there's a will, there's a way'! I believe everything is within our power to make what we want of it. Mother Earth could be a close replica of Utopia, if collectively we made the effort to do so. Yeah, I have been accused of being a dreamer, an idealist, maybe I am one. But I prefer the positive outlook that leads me forward as opposed to the negatives that turn me stagnant. When it comes to Earth, I am forever optimistic and hope that more people gets some sense knocked into them before She decides 'Enough is Enough' and take things into her own hand. I would avoid her anger in all possible ways I could and hope you will too.

******

For Michelle's prompt, For WI's prompt, For SS's prompt. What a shame! I wish I could find some jargons to fit in to RWP's prompt as well! :)

Sing & Dance

buzzing bees:
singing in harmony-
wind provides chorus.

flowering tulips:

dance to the live beat -

of fluttering butterflies.

****

In response to One Single Impression

My Belief

be a warrior, have plenty of faith

not one or the other, but both apace -

for victory belongs to one so brave

willing to fight yet having faith!

when life throws hurdles one by one

pick up your strenth, forward face:

do your best, stretch your limits

then leave the rest to your faith!

faith has power as you would know,

but not for one who will not show-

courage and spirit combining faith

to win over life's impossible maze!

so be a warrior with plenty of faith

not one or the other but both apace.

****

My mantra, my belief, one that keeps me going is to be a warrior with lots of faith.

For Michelle's prompt on mantra.

Her

a picture, a pencil sketch

etched in black and white

stopped me in my tracks,to gaze-

glimpse in bewiderment, in awe

of reflected familiarity,my own?

wait, it can't be, how could it be?

as i trace the features one by one

many an emotion skip my mind

she seems so young, was i ever so?

she was carefree, she lived life so

who is she? why do i feel connected?

stop, she is not me but she is in me

even though we are so disconnected?

i should've known the answer was close

yet it gave me great pleasure, to know

her eyes spoke to me, just as her words

rang in my ears, i knew her deep down

within my heart, the knowledge took shape

just as she walked in to announce

as only she, my adorable ammoomma can do

'Appoopa sketched me, I was seventeen'

****

This is for my Ammooma, my grandma, who is a role model for me, her grace and her charm

beats no other and she is indeed a woman to be reckoned with. Also fits the prompt for 3WW.

*Appooppa is what I call my grandpa, he was a lucky man.

Lost Spring

flip-flops slap the pedicured feet,

bikinis sway in the scorching heat!

shorts and skirts out and about,

sun tan season is here no doubt!

days are longer, nights even shorter,

summer has overtaken spring for sure!

i am disappointed to say the least -

since i consider spring such a feast!

*****

In response to the TOP prompt

Detachment

ugliness is inborn

just like goodness,

mixture of the two

does not cause harm

but only compliments-

should they remain

like oil and vinegar:

together yet apart,

embracing yet detached,

separate identities,

preserving character-

easy to move aside,

when time arrives!

key of detachment

is easy to loose:

beware of its risk

when mixing twos-

for negatives arise

as attachment is born,

and flavours bring war

unlike oil and vinegar!

****

In response to the prompt from Read Write Poem

Damayanti

red attire drapes

beauty sparkling gold:

white swan admires.

***
eyes dreamy black-

brown gaze notice,

lost look blue.

***

red lotus petals

compliment pillars golden:

silvery sky awaits.

***
messenger listens green

pink feet planted:

thoughts colored grey.

***

This is in response to the prompt from One Single Impression on Colors. This is also a form I have been wanting to try ever since I caught it at lissa's and Christine's blogs. It is called Rothko,

1. A Rothko (poem) can only be written while standing in front of a Rothko (painting).2. A Rothko is three lines, three words per line.3. Three of these nine words must be colors, and their position in the poem must be a tic-tac-toe.4. Like all rules of poetry, break at your own risk.

****

A little on the painting, this is an oil painting from Raja Ravi Varma, a famed Indian artist on a character called Damayanti, follow the link for the story on Damayanti here and here. Please click on the link here to see a bigger version of the painting itself. I have a framed copy in my personal collection and thought this would be perfect for this poetry form.

****

My NaPoWriMo for friday, Saturday and Sunday are all done today...whew, I thought I am gonna miss these out. But the prompts took me on a roll.

Bravery

Don’t be mere survivors,
heroes are true revivers -
fight your darkest fears
triumphs always have ears!

*****

In response to the WI prompt, I think I will take this further, but for now, here's the

draft as I consider it.

Unmolding

voice your sigh

compose a mold

fill brim high

with thoughts of gold

open your heart

break the mold

free your spirit

let peace be the goal

*****

In response to Sunday Scribblings

Indecision

what am i abandoning?

i can't help wonder

was it worth exploring?

the road least journeyed

what am i missing?

i am no risk taker

what am i loosing?

i have to ponder -

as I continue to follow

the experienced traveler

before mine.

****

This was triggered by a favorite poem of mine from Robert Frost. It is an inspiring poem for me, one I wouldn't mind reading over and over again every time indecision captures my mind and plays havoc with it. This is for the Poem In Your Pocket piece I would like to remind my readers of...

****

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

******

A play

stage is set

actors in place

touching scene

plays its pace -

starting at the

beginning, till it ends.

for each spectator

looking deeply in :

visibility spectacular

acting real -

where beginnings begin

with endless ends!

life is such,

as you will agree:

different views,

different worlds,

depending on the

beholder's eye -

full of beginnings

with no visible ends.

*****

In response to 3WW, and Michelle's 'different views of the window'

Blind Perspective

slippery cool to my skin,
gurgling musical to my ear,
fragrant breath to my nose,
healing nectar to my tongue-
i love to see your face
just for a moment, just once.


you quench my thirst,

you fulfill my need:
you are life-giving,
quite simply the best.
i feel you, i sense you,
i smell you, i taste you
i long to see you, meet you.
just for a moment, just once.


does it matter what color
you are? if i could see,
if these eyes of mine
could see, like i see
in my mind's inner eye,
you will be the color
of the rainbow for sure.
so maybe it is best
that i am blind and cannot see
for surely my dreams would flee -
if i see you, meet you face to face
just for a moment, just once.

******

I did two prompts in one, this in response to

Sharon's "What color is water?" from a blind man's

perspective as well as Michelle's 'I've never seen the face'

Sleepy Rhyme

day without end

eyes feel pinned

sleepy and tired

i nod off my head -

clearly

its time for bed!

****

'night.'night.

Krishna

playful and mischevious

you capture many hearts

your charming sweetness

span across generations

with lores full of gloss

i long to hear your stories:

fun and adventurous tales -

i heard them a million times

but would listen over again

a role model for several

your tales full of moral

thief of hearts you are known

innumerous souls you own

you are darling Krishna

famed the world over,

a Hindu God you might be-

mentor and friend to me.

*****

Krishna is a famed character from the Hindu literature, my favorite, so I decided to use him as the subject for the last two

prompts from TOP, one on mythology and the other on the Person.

Glory

ray of sunshine:

i basked in it's glory

warmed inside out.

glorious smile:

spread from ear to ear

rising sun.

*****

In response to one single impression prompt.

Plea For Help

how could you let me die?

after giving me this life -

for you know that i am alive

from the day you concieve'.

dont judge me please
first get to know me

listen to my plea
give me my voice

my sex shouldn't matter
my resolve will not shatter

i am as good as a 'he'
i am no helpless 'she'

allow me my basic right
let me solve this plight

give me one chance
to prove my stance

a reason to be heard
thus spread the word

fearless let me fight

with all my might

my heart will take flight

the future will be bright

allow me this life

don't kill me please!

*****

A few weeks ago, a chance encounter got me aquainted with Roop Rai and her blog unchaahi where she talks of 'sex-selective abortion'. Thanks to Roop for taking me to her space. To my delight she requested me to write a few words regarding her cause, the fight againt female genicide in many countries including India. I have been thinking how best to spread this message across, it is a sad state of affairs but it happens and measures need to be taken to prevent it. I request all my readers to visit Roop's site and contirbute your thoughts in the best way you can. There's lots of information here. I believe in her cause.

I also thought this fit the prompt at ReadWritePoem to 'speak freely' on behalf of those who cannot voice their issues. A female foetus in my opinion is the least fortunate and if one could speak, I am sure her plea would be heart rendering.

This looks to fit my Sunday Scrbblings prompt as well as WI prompt. And finally for Michelle's prompt, I choose my favorite words as the highlighted ones. These last three pieces I fit in as I wanted this voice to be heard by maximum number of people.

My Weapon

i write, i type, i deliver

with ten fingers poised

pouring thoughts at will -

rarely do i acknowledge

this weapon at my tips:

one taken for granted,

one least appreciated

but never ever, never once

accredited, recoginzed!

what if i lost them?

what if they paralysed?

where oh where would I be?

how oh how my life lead me?

this life would simply

waste away, it would be

worse than dying surely-

living ghost that i would be

so when i glimpse

these palms of mine

i feel thankful, grateful

totally blessed.

*****

For my tenth NaPoWriMo, I am using Michelle's prompt called My Hands

Good & Bad

remember the good old times

funny how the world chimed

theatre cost just mere dimes

not money but people primed

times have changed, full of crimes

not people but dollars primed

winds betray, altering climes

hearts vanish, heavily grimed

life tastes like tarty limes.

******

In response to the 3WW prompt

Tidbits

loosing interest-

like night without the sky

encountering blank.

feeling stagnant -

like bird without wings

bereft existence.

****

Aunt Trouble

There's my great aunt

whose tale would haunt

her life is history

her death a mystery

oh, she's tough to flaunt

****

This is for MK's prompt as well as ReadWritePoem.

Stranded 'kus!

forest fire:

lone bird in the sky-

stranded high.

***
gathering storm:

burdened thoughts at war-

stranded within.

***
flowing stream:

calms the inner soul-

happily stranded.

***

clear blue sky:

merry making birds-

stranded hearts.

***

In response to the prompt from On Single Impression

Betrayal

look me in the eye

when you truly try

don't you dare lie

when i bid goodbye

deduce the reason why

when you see me cry

for once, don't be sly

or regret when you die

Self-Battle

brave face crumbles

tears rain unheeded

her mask unmasked:

the shower turns on

her soul-clenching sobs,

merges with the whoosh

weak,gut-shaking frame

hides behind the steam

stranded within a maze

with no key for escape

she continues her quest

for the lost highway

her fear and self-doubts

rival, to pull thoughts

in opposite directions:

making victory impossible

and hence the unmasking -

hiding from the world

and letting go, to fight

her own personal demons

helps to mask herself

as she turns off water

and step out, to face

the world one more day.

*****

In response to the Writer's Island which I havent attempted in a long long time, also for NaPoWriMo.