Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Blank

Blank and empty was that hollow cave 
capable to echo if you walked-in brave 

Blank was the school’s big black board 
Home to many learnings underscored 

Blank was that huge canvas 
whilst all the colors flashed past the painter’s eyes 

Blank was the farm to the farmer oh so kind
until it sowed life to our bodies and mind

Ask any parents’s finest memories 
It’s their child’s blank face in innocence 

Blank may not mean anything by itself  
but is the beginning of every major completed self

Choice

Choice is what gives you a name 
And is what to a warrior in a battle 
to kill or --- to be 
to live now, or forever! 

Choice is what to a poet and a painter 
of some words ; of some color

To a girl, it’s for a boy 
and to a child, it’s for a toy
makes choice one a priest 
and the other —-an atheist

As a poor man’s wish
(to be able to choose)
And a rich man’s option
to the grave,  His choice it heeds!

The other side...

Some deemed less precious than the others
lie on the ground collecting sand and powder
the deep blue sea holds a few - precious i.e.
adorns everybody – from politicians to pious
Oh Stone.. how enticing are you!

Sometimes in the memory of a Building, 
of days bygone
as a monument, place of worship & birth
or a few accolades in books for your size and girth
As a toy to my joy – when I filled my pockets
Small stones rattling & jingling, eager to make it to my collection
ah! those days of chaste dream – sometimes space sometimes rockets

Never knew the other side, until I heard the Church bell!
to my man I commit, I trust and love – to share my life
It was that one precious stone on my finger – to make me his wife
The high church was all Stone, stood tall as the town’s pride
for every girl in the town, dreamed standing in there as a bride

To the many in nature, you stand occult
for I have heard some say stone hearted - used as an insult
Such dreary standards man is always known to set
Prejudice in every stage – for pride, pomp and threat
Never will they know nor hear another bell
needs a stone at burial– a stone – to write their name of life spent!
to leave a mark loud enough as if struck by cymbal
Oh Stone, how grave can you be, even in the final event!

Remember to Forget...

Strange is this thought of 
remembering every time to forget
I am put in the same next minute 
as I was in the last minute

Is this so important I should remember or 
is this so nice that my mind let it wander?
I wonder how did it make home in my mind,  
to my memory closet, this is new of its kind

I know I should forget
I say, "That’s it, now I forget" 
But there you go memory just met

Like an unsolved riddle, this thought was kept 
for very long until I hoped to forget

I wish I remembered how to forget... . . .

Poetry

Meditation, pass-time and hobby 
are some of its names 
It’s neither an academic score
 nor an effort for fame

a sheer joy of expression, in all the true colors,
 while the most beautiful lady of literature
 seeks not to flirt with amateurs

Acts as a best companion during loneliness 
awakens the hidden friend to oneness 
Friend I call, which seizes to have any entity 
It’s a pretzel of oneself being in its own identity

This speaking painting does take many shapes & forms

 the reader owns the brush, writer writes no norms!

void everywhere!

Lot of chaos around 
creating a deafening silence 

Too many medias
too few communicate, 
Too many beings, too few feelings
whats the meaning

Each treading their own path 
Only with their knowledge of math; 
people know not lost their way
then where is the way?

All running so fast to hold high the mast; 
the ship might sink, Shouldn't we think?
Might not last very long, 
when things are going wrong. 

I know, it's wrong somewhere, but
could some one tell me where?

All these thoughts a private affair,
Can't let them in the air

Yes - void everywhere !!

Life of Death

As the cool breeze ruffles the dry leaves,
which time had covered the buried,
I take time to look back,
So soon, so fast, I was here ..back !

People I see around me bidding good bye
with their humane feelings standing by
this burrow very vast, so quiet, so calm,
the father still standing beside reading the psalm

Although Time had let me enough to grow
never attempted to know this burrow
Little do we make efforts to look forth
We remain wanderers walking back & forth

I, in this new world am all-alone,
Just as I in the other,
Neither brothers, nor bothers,
just left to ponder

I turn around to see my friends and foes
Who have finally given up their egos,
And wishing to turn their clocks back,
now that they are here…back !

Alas..! I wish they knew this before,
Which anyday was in store,
this realisation all along veiled
whilst only hither to be revealed!

Same mornings..,same nights.. pass,
Seasons doth reasons surpass
as I lay cold in the grass,
to count myself once amongst the mass!