Extant

Yet again, today
You touched that
place - sore and hurting -
There. Where it never healed.

An ache, verified, mollified
And subdued.
It lay, awaiting your
Touch. Begging.

And so, it had to be.
Right?
Gratified now, that it
Has been acknowledged
It reigns.
Supreme. It's flow uninterrupted.

And I?
Begging.
To be mollified.

Did you say?
Pain
Is pleasure?




28 September, 2008

The Chill - A Senryu

The Chill


The liquid tear drop

Solidifies into pain-

Barren snowy heart!

28 September, 2008

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Syllable Count:

The/ li/quid /tear/ drop...5

So/li/di/fies /in/to/ pain-..7

Ba/rren/ sno/wy/ heart!..5

******************************

Senryu is a form of Japanese lyric just like the haiku. The one above is in the 5-7-5 format:) However, while Haiku celebrate the seasons, and nature, Senryu speak of human nature, and are mostly a little darker in their expression: More, from wikipedia..

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Senryū (川柳, literally 'river willow') is a Japanese form of short poetry similar to haiku in construction: three lines with 17 or fewer "on" (not syllables) in total. However, senryū tend to be about human foibles while haiku tend to be about nature, and senryū are often cynical or darkly humorous while haiku are more serious. Unlike haiku, senryū do not include a kireji (cutting word), and do not generally include a kigo, or season word.
The link, for those interested:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Senryu

me

sometimes
there are so
many me s
that I
don't know
me any
more

with each new
person
bond
feeling
a different
part becomes -
and takes
over

and I keep
wondering
when
that one day
someday
will dawn
when I can
stand up and
live

for
just


ME





6 June, 1987

Spectrum

Do you colour feelings?
Or do you let your
Feelings colour you?

Took me a while,
As a young young girl
To know the world
Wasn't just black and white!

Monochrome they call it.
My peculiar vision.

Ah! But back then
Little did I know
I'd feel them, instead!
Colours, you know?

She taught me that
An empathetic teacher
Who sensed that seething
Mass of frustration, that
Was me, in Art Class!

So she told me
How she heard sounds
That colours made!
Rain falling, in a shade of blue
Angry brakes screeching in
Violent red.
A gurgle of a baby's laughter
In white, and sometimes Pastel Pink!

What joy that brought!
But hearing wasn't enough.
Defiant, I knew that
To master the shades of myself
I had to feel, with it.

And so began that journey
Of a fecund soul
Feeling the blue s of a sad moment
The passion and warmth of orange and red
In the light of a bright sun
Richness, abundance of green
In fields, meadows, grass!

And I touched purple passion
With him - when my
Emotional skyscape
Burst into the glorious
Pandemonium of love!

Cocooned and warm - a fuzzy
Yellow, I've come to feel
Into the whiteness of a
Seamless endless limitless bond-

I know, I've felt the spectrum
With a palette of hues, in my heart-
More clearly felt, perhaps
Than you could?




8 September, 2008

The Little Girl

Wisps of grey hair
In tendrils tease her forehead
He looks on indulgently
His heart filled
Eyes twinkling,
Crow feet crinkling endearingly...

Her breath catches
She could never tire
Of meeting that delight in his eyes
Knowing she was in the spotlight
As she'd always be
No matter, they were
Together or not!

Elbows on the table
He leans forward
And curls a tendril
On a finger - a feather touch caress
And cups her face
As she turns to it
To smile a tiny kiss on his palm

There's one secret, you know,
You still haven't shared
He murmurs, eyes bright!

Is there?
She, mischievously, knowingly!

It's a game they play
And its enchantment never fades

She waits - lips slightly parted
Corners curling upward
Her anticipation draws him in

This time, you must, simply must
Tell me
How you do stay so young

She tilts her head, into his palm
Shakes it slightly...
And he holds it still,
with his other hand
Cupping her face, smiling
Knowing it too...

How could I not?
She whispers
'Coz I've always been
And will always be
Your darling little girl...
How could I ever age
When you keep my heart forever young?

Of course, she knows, he knows
Still, what they didn't know
Was this-

The magic they gifted
In that melting moment
To the jaded writer, at the next table
Who beamed, sat up
And met life again




31 August, 2008